Hayden is my stepson. Mr. Harvey is Hayden's science teacher, and Mr. Harvey doesn't play, at least that's what he always tells the kids. He's a Marine, I don't know if I'm actually supposed to capitalize that, but it seems appropriate based only on the story I heard of their special training during which they're made to stand for something like an hour in water just above freezing - that's barely liquid. Hayden seems to like him and says that Mr. Harvey always says "I don't play," as if someone made a mistake and thought that this Marine-turned-fifth-grade-science-teacher was someone who liked jokes. I imagine, based on what Hayden has said about him, that he teaches like a Marine would teach - serious, straightforward, no-nonsense, and no playing.
Hayden was telling me about his fifth-grade camping trip the other night. He was talking about the friend he had made. They bunked together with a couple of other boys and, like boys, they were up way too late trying to be quiet but being loud instead. They had been warned a few times by the threatening shouts of Mr. Harvey from the next room, reminding them of his unwillingness to play. Finally he'd had it and he came in wearing just the shorts he was sleeping in and gave them a stern military-type dressing down. When he turned around to leave the room the boys all saw, in very large Old-English-style lettering, tattooed across his upper back the words "I DON'T PLAY," lest anyone have a question.