IT HAPPENED TO ME
I Confronted My Schoolyard Bully
He wasn’t expecting it
“Everyone say ‘Welcome, Sean,’” the 5th-grade teacher said, gesturing wide to the classroom full of kids. I stood stiff at the front, looking like a diminutive lighthouse as they all chanted “welcome” in a monotone voice.
It was yet another reset, another move after many that came before it. And the complete deletion of all my friendships. This was the life of a military brat.
Things started out great. I’d learned early that humor was a quick way to make friends in class. With one quick gesture or goofy face, I could start wearing down someone’s defenses and become a buddy.
Things started going off the rails on the playground. It was a big one-acre plot, with slides, a jungle gym, tetherball courts, a kickball field, and even a sand area for the smaller kids.
I immediately noticed a larger boy, Earl, patrolling the playground like a menace. He was either harassing and bullying other boys, and the teachers seemed painfully absent. Earl had this perpetual scowl on his face like he’d been born angry into this world.
Then, he started getting into my face, pushing me for no reason. One time it was because I’d “badmouthed” him, even though I’d never said a word. Another time, he claimed he saw me making faces at him.
It was clear that he was just making up reasons to harass other boys. I usually just took it, along with the humiliation. I wasn’t the violent type.
On one occasion, I was playing tether ball, and he walked over, and without warning, socked me in the stomach, sending me to my knees, wheezing for air. Thinking back now, it’s peculiar that I didn’t want to tell the teacher for risk of being a tattle tale, when I was already being embarrassed routinely, in front of other kids. I took some twisted solace in the fact that I was one among many being bullied.
And then he started bullying me in front of a girl I liked, Annie, which doubled the misery of the situation. She seemed to like me back, but I feared this wouldn’t last if I kept getting mauled every week. But again, I didn’t like fighting. I was a sensitive kid, and much smaller than Earl, as he’d been gifted an early puberty.
I went home to my mom and said, “I’ve been getting beat up by this kid at school. I don’t know what to do.”
Mom was a strong woman, but I’d expected her to say, “Tell the teacher!” Or offer some diplomacy tips. But she looked tired that day, and wasn’t in a mood, and said, “Stand up for yourself! Punch him in the mouth!”
I stared in silence, surprised. This wasn’t the response I was expecting. For the record, I had no intention of using her advice as a free pass to go pick a fight or hit anyone. Heck, I wasn’t sure if I had it in me, to begin with.
The next week during recess, I had one of the large play balls out of the bin and was bouncing it around on the outside basketball court. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Earl tormenting another boy, grabbing him by the hair, saying something in his ear threateningly. I still can’t fathom how the teachers could have been so blind. He should have been expelled.
I tried to mind my business and not look at him. Then, from the corner of my eye, I noticed Earl walking towards me. He yelled, “Hey, stupid!”
I cringed, realizing this might actually go down. I had envisioned myself turning confidently, and saying, “You dare talk to me like that?” Then roundhouse kick him before being carried off the playground like I’d just sunk a buzzer-beater.
That plan felt pretty flimsy now. More realistically, it felt like another episode of school yard beatdown starring yours truly. And, of course, Annie was standing there with me, asking me to pass the ball — not realizing I had bigger problems.
Earl walked up and stood with his face about two inches from mine, and repeated, “Hey, stupid. Did you hear me? I’m talking to you.”
I stared. Unsure what to do as I felt his breath on my face. He repeats “Hey stupid? I said…did…you…hear…me.”
He grabbed me by the hair, like he did the other kid moments earlier, except I resisted, and it was a blur after that. We started wrestling, our arms locked onto each other and we fell, hitting the ground at the same time. He was bigger and stronger, but I was determined because he seemed furious that I was fighting back. I didn’t want him to get on top of me so he could start hitting and/or choking me. I genuinely feared for my life.
As we rolled around on the ground, I remember tasting dirt as he pushed my head down, and hearing Annie yelling, “Stop! Stop fighting!”
We scrambled to our feet, I somehow broke free, and without thinking, pulled my arm back and decked him square in the nose.
He stared in a brief stunned silence, and I thought, “OK. I’m dead meat.” I braced myself for the imminent beating.
Then, to my disbelief, Earl’s face scrunched up and he started crying, as he turned and walked off. It sounds twisted, but I actually felt bad for hitting him. After all the hell he’d put me through, the humiliation, the hitting, kicking, throwing sand in my face, and all the misery the other boys on the playground had endured — I somehow felt bad for hitting him.
I looked over at Annie and she looked completely shocked but I noticed a half-smile peeking out.
And for a moment, I felt like the coolest kid in the world. Yet, somehow, the teacher appeared a few moments later, and hissed, “You know why I’m here, Sean. Get over here!”
I was escorted off the playground and put into day detention for the rest of the week, all for defending myself. And the teachers never knew the real story, and the hell we’d been through. But I never had problems with Earl again.
No, I still don’t think violence is the answer in the vast majority of situations. I’m more of a make-love-not-war type of guy. But it would be naive to think you should never stick up for yourself. Having transferred schools so often, I learned that being the new boy is hard sometimes. The bullying is real, and relentless at times, and some teachers are completely blind to it.
You have to put your own oxygen mask on before you can begin to help others. Sometimes, being strong is the only option you have, whether it’s standing up to a bad boss, or an oversized bully.