Solomon Jones: Going old school on mall hooky players

I'M THE PARENT of a teen. I used to be a teen. If there's one thing I know about teens, it's this: Sometimes they just don't do right.

That's why it doesn't surprise me when teens play hooky. Teens, after all, don't have much perspective. They can't possibly imagine that Little Mikey, the nerdy guy from fifth-period biology, will one day be their boss. Nor can they fathom the possibility that Pretty Ricky, the starting running back on the football team, will one day be a janitor.

I guess that's why I keep seeing teenagers having the time of their lives in The Gallery at Market East when they're supposed to be in school.

I'm not saying it's The Gallery's fault. I've seen mall security chase kids during school hours. I'm not saying it's the cops' fault. I've seen them checking kids' identification. I'm not saying it's anybody's fault. I'm just saying I keep seeing kids.

Perhaps it's because we're dealing with a generation that's bolder than we used to be. At least when we played hooky, we had sense enough to do it indoors. These kids? They'd play hooky at their parents' jobs if they could.

Some parents should be blamed for that. Others shouldn't. But when you've tried fining parents, berating parents, even jailing parents, it's pretty clear that parents can't do it alone.

So here's my suggestion. If these kids are bold enough to play hooky halfway between police headquarters and City Hall, adults should be bold enough to make them stop. To that end, I'm offering three plans to get kids out of the mall.

Plan A

Institute a mall rodeo. Kids playing hooky will be chased through the corridors of the mall by professional rustlers. Each cowboy will be given 30 seconds to lasso an errant kid while yelling "Yee-haw!" The first cowboy to get to 10 kids wins a starring role in a rap video titled "Lasso Love."

It might not make the kids stop playing hooky, but it would make for great reality TV.

Plan B

Post signs in the mall threatening to arrest those who show their underwear and/or body parts that should only be seen by medical professionals. Enforce this rule using onsite cameras. When a violator is spotted, sound an alarm that plays Conway Twitty's greatest hits from a tricked-out Hyundai whose backseat has been replaced by fifty subwoofers.

This will make the boys pull their pants all the way up, and force the girls to wear clothing that fits. It will allow me to go to The Gallery without the summer blindfold I wear to avoid witnessing body parts no one should be forced to see.

Plan C

Gather a crew of lunch ladies from the city's toughest schools, and send them into the food court at lunchtime. Allow them to confiscate every taco, hamburger, cheesesteak and chicken wing these little buggers have purchased. Get the head lunch lady to rally the troops. Then have the lunch ladies surround the kids. I imagine the battle would go something like this:

"Hairnets ready!"

With one giant whoosh, the lunch ladies don their helmets.

"Salisbury steaks ready!"

One hundred spatulas scrape mushy meat off a grill.

"March!"

They move in, mercilessly, ruthlessly, and perform their duty like the highly trained mercenaries they are.

Within minutes, the lunch ladies have force fed those kids so many processed meat patties that no kid will ever return to the mall during school hours again.

If these plans fail, we could do it the old-fashioned way. Bring in some old-school mothers armed with the leather straps from the barber shop. Bring in some old-school dads with their sleeves rolled up. Then, just bring it.

It wouldn't be pretty. It wouldn't be politically correct. But I bet you wouldn't see any more kids in the mall during school hours. *

Solomon Jones will sign copies of his new novel, Payback, at Borders, The Gallery at Market East, 9th and Market streets, April 3, noon to 2 p.m.

Solomon Jones' column appears every Saturday. He can be reached at

info@solomonjones.com.