So a direct confrontation between Christie and an actual teacher had been a long time coming when Marie Corfield, an art teacher from Flemington, New Jersey (who has since become a good friend of mine), crossed the street from her school while on lunch break and confronted Christie. Why was he cutting funding to education while blaming the state’s fiscal problems on middle-class teachers, she asked him? Why was he bad-mouthing the state’s schools when they were consistently at the top of the nation? Video of Christie’s reaction became the first big YouTube sensation for a governor whose staff prides itself on its social media savvy. When Corfield dared to roll her eyes at Christie’s response, he stopped in midsentence and upbraided her—without the slightest trace of irony—for wanting to “put on a show.” He then proceeded to blame teachers for the state’s fiscal woes, claiming that if they had only taken a one-year pay freeze, he could have plugged the budget hole. It wasn’t true: The state’s Office of Legislative Services later released an analysis that showed a teacher pay freeze wouldn’t have come close to filling the budget gap. But the truth was never Chris Christie’s top priority; what mattered was that he had found his villains. Teachers, not millionaires and corporations benefitting from Christie’s tax giveaways, were the problem. Cutting pay and benefits for educators was the solution.

Looking back at the video more than four years later, it’s astonishing to see how little Chris Christie has changed. Some politicians mature in office, softening their tone as they come to understand the responsibilities that come with positions of authority. Not Christie: The open contempt he showed toward Corfield that day has resurfaced every time his critics have publicly confronted him. A high school student from Newark, an ex-Navy Seal in Roebling, a former Asbury Park councilman—all have withstood the withering sneers of their governor. In 2012, Christie even chased after a heckler who made a passing comment one night on the Seaside Heights boardwalk. You would think a few years in office would have made Chris Christie’s skin thicken a bit. And you would think a sitting governor who was already being talked up as a possible Presidential candidate would show some restraint. But it’s clear to many of us New Jerseyans, after years of observing Chris Christie, that the man craves these conflicts—especially with women. He once told the press they should “take the bat out” on State Senator Loretta Weinberg, a seventy-nine-year-old grandmother and one of the most respected figures in Trenton. He called Assemblywoman Valerie Huttle a “jerk” and former Assembly Speaker Sheila Oliver a liar. Christie takes particular glee in railing against teachers, a field where three-quarters of professionals are women. Last November, just before his reelection, Christie held a substantial lead over his opponent, Barbara Buono. The smart move would have been to keep his head down and coast to victory.