Yesterday’s posts on bullying and candy police had me reminiscing about my school days. Specifically my final year in elementary school back in the early ’80s. My family moved to this particular suburb of the big city when I was about half way through elementary school. My parents chose this suburb because, at the time, they had the best schools in the area. I suppose that was as good a reason as any. I ended up being better prepared for college than any of my fellow pledge brothers.
The darker side of this particular move happened to be that the town we moved into was known as the rich community, and my family was decidedly not rich. That is not to say we were poor by any stretch of the imagination, just less well heeled than the average. Anyway, these two factors, moving to a new school and not being made of money, meant that I was targeted by a roving group of bullies from the clique of kids that had been together from the beginning. I fought back as best a third grader could and after that was pretty much left alone.
By the time I reached the sixth grade I had friends, but as often happens from time to time friendships would end for no apparent reason. Allegiances would change, and girls were obviously coming into the picture. Boys being boys would do things to impress or win their favor. The girls were opening their eyes to their power over boys. It was a heady time of hormones and fart jokes.
It was towards the end of this school year that I got into two fights. The first happened shortly after getting off the school bus. A kid named Jimmy, who at one time I had been friends with, made a comment about something. I’m sure it was stupid. Heck my memory is so fuzzy now, that as I’m trying to remember the events I’m thinking maybe I was the one to said something to him. Probably so. Anyway, he crossed the street to confront me and the next thing I know he has taken a swing at me. My glasses came flying off and I literally went berserk. Caught him under the chin with the first punch and he went down like a sack of potatoes. I climbed on top and starting pounding on him. All in all the fight was over as quickly as it began.
The second fight I got into was also with a kid, call him Dave, who had been my friend for a while too. Another kid named Nick had moved to the area and joined our group and for whatever reason it had put a wedge between me and Dave. Eventually Dave and I came to an impasse about something or other. Equally as stupid and mundane as the first fight mentioned above. Dave challenged me to meet him after school to have it out.
Our teacher at the time was that rarity of rarities, a male elementary school teacher. To this day I still have a lot of respect for the guy. Our teacher found out about the fight, to take place after school and on school grounds. He confronted me about it, and asked me to reconsider. I told him I had to do it, otherwise the bullying would continue. I remember telling him that much. To his credit, he understood. He didn’t try to stop the fight or break it up. He let us have it out.
The fight was inconclusive to say the least. Dave was into wrestling at the time and I was learning Karate. He came in low with his arms out to the side. I got one good front snap kick in to his face before he was on me. After that we kind of both went down to the ground, each trying to get the upper hand. It was over quickly and neither one of us was hurt. I can’t say there was any clear victor. Dave and I never patched up our friendship in the following years of junior high and high school. We went our separate ways.
