I have this friend with two sons. She and I were on the phone yesterday when she explained that her youngest would no longer be attending preschool. Her explanation was reasonable enough: Commute time, curriculum and, of course, expense. But her final reason got me to thinking. To quote, she said, “Little Jimmy told me to ‘shut up’ yesterday. And that type of garbage can only come from those little hellions he meets at school.”

I will concede right now that I am not a parent. The shaping of little people’s sound minds and bodies does not fall to me with any regularity.

To be truthful, the friends I do have with children refuse to allow me any chance at supervision of their young ones. (Their reasons usually centering around the unfortunate puppy incident from my freshman year.)

Despite this lack of immediate obligation to a short person, I feel imminently qualified to comment on both method and standard given that I am a direct product of a rearing, and have lived with the consequences and advantages of my own parent’s decisions on the matter.

For the purposes of this dialogue, raising a child will be divided into three categories: The defensive, the offensive and the social. The defensive, or matters of confrontation, are best related by example.

Imagine for a moment you are a parent, in any city. You have a six-year-old son. Now imagine he is on the playground, during recess. Another boy, a bigger boy, meanders up to your son, pushes him down, kicks sand in his face, calls him a “smelly belly nerd” and makes off with his brand new Captain Commando Ninja Warrior Space Man (with the Kung Fu Grip). What would you have your child do? Tell the teacher? Find another playground? Get his friends together and make a move on the bigger kid in the bathroom?

Now if your a man answering this question, I am willing to bet your answer lies somewhere closer to the assassination attempt in the bathroom.

After all, if you think back to your formative years, aren’t playgrounds a lot like the yard in prison? If you don’t let it be known from the start that you’re not to be messed with, everybody picks on you. Which brings me to my first point: The defensive.

Throughout your existence, no matter occupation, social standing or geographic location, you will be called upon to defend yourself. The intimate social interaction of playgrounds and classrooms are but a sampling, a microcosm of what will be a portion of the defining battles of your life. Children not only learn to interact at a young age, they learn to negotiate, fight and compromise.

My father taught me how to box at a young age; we’ll call it six or seven. I was smaller than even most of the girls in my class, and an ass kicking was always just around the corner.

My dad believed basic survival skills were paramount: how to read, write, do math, scan a map and defend myself. Such tools are necessary; you can’t get through life being illiterate, and you have to at least be able to sign your own name.

I suggest you be equipped to count your own change, know how to get to Albuquerque and throw a right cross. If you doubt the need for the last one, visit a bar in this city after eleven at night, or move to Dallas.

The offensive is essentially the opposite of the defensive. If the idea of your child as a bully appalls you, consider it more along the lines of recognition and acquirement of goods and services.

Everybody needs and wants something; I guarantee you if your child never progresses beyond how they cry for milk at ten days old, they are sunk in my world.

So the social. How do you learn to flirt? To negotiate? To bribe? Brag? Pout effectively? Ask for a raise? Get the connection?

Human interaction is practiced through continual exposure. If you doubt that ask yourself how many momma’s boys you know that went on to be super studs.

Take a minute out to consider the origin of most wallflowers. Being around people teaches you how to be around people.

Perhaps this muddled call to action is somewhat inappropriate coming from a man with not even a scintilla of experience as a real adult.

But you know what, as a parent, you’ll feel much better about my advice if I’m considered the cold-hearted bastard competing against your kid for a spot on the baseball team, or a college scholarship or a woman’s heart.

I am not calling for a removal of the tenderness and kind moments of circumstance that are being a kid. I just want us all to remember that the world can be mean.

It can be downright ruthless even, and a young person not prepared to face that reality is a young person who has been done a disservice.

As I said to my friend, if you don’t want your kid to learn to be rude like his classmates, tell him not to be and punish him when he is.

But if you remove him from the company of his peers instead, if you stunt the growth of so much that comes from knowing human nature, then you have cursed him or her, from the start. Manners are crucial in this world but so is a good right hook.

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Zuri Jerdon is a graduate student in English from Cincinnati.