A TALE OF 4TH GRADE REVENGE

My Bully Owned My Teacher Until I Called for the Family Superhero

Are There Rules About Fighting Back?

Pain plus giggles.

My pain. His giggles.

That was the common routine with fourth-grade bully Timothy Snodgrass.

This was his first year at our school. He came from a different part of town, a different state, or maybe even a different planet.

All I knew was that he was larger than any of us. Timothy (name changed) stood three inches taller. Plus, he had a 20-pound advantage over me.

He hurled me back-first into a row of lockers. I tried shoving him in return, but telephone poles don’t move. I fell down again.

Timothy loved tripping people. He sent me sailing when I was headed to the pencil sharpener on the wall.

“Heehee,” he’d snicker with high-pitched glee.

Why did he act this way? That was only one mystery that tormented me. The other puzzle involved my teacher, whom I’ll call “Miss T.”

Miss T looked ready to retire. Her face was a mixture of boredom and exhaustion. Smiles were few and fleeting.

The exception came from her new student. She’d perk up whenever she called on him.

“Timothy, how about you?” she cooed. “Do you know the capitol of Iowa?”

He made a buzzing noise. Like his brain was a stuck record.

“Call me Tim,” he announced. “I want everyone to call me Tim.”

The teacher seemed pleased that this news flash was broadcast to everyone. “I’ll try to do that,” Miss T vowed. “It takes time, but I’ll try. I’m sure all of us will try our best.”

Miss T gave her student a gentle verbal nudge. “No idea about the state capitol then?”

All he did was scan the ceiling. As if someone wrote the answer for him up above.

“Fine. I’ll come back to you later,” the teacher promised.

This was the strangest species of a teacher’s pet I had ever imagined.

Trying to Tell the Teacher

After school, I stayed to talk to Miss T. “I’m having problems with Timothy. I need your help, please.”

The teacher shook her head. “We’re supposed to call him ‘Tim.’ Remember?”

I groaned and nodded. “Fine. TIM. Well, he picks on me. I try to avoid him, but he won’t leave me alone.”

Miss T looked to the ceiling, just like Tim did earlier. “Boys will be boys,” she began. “And Tim is a new boy. You should be nice to him. You should make him feel at home.”

I feared this was an April Fool's joke in winter. I frowned.

“I’m serious,” she warned. “Tim comes from a good family. I know. He needs help to settle in, okay?”

All I could manage was “thanks” as I shuffled away.

I did my homework that night and went to bed early. I wanted to figure this mess out fast. Two bruises and a total loss of pride later, I needed to do something big. But what?

The next day, at afternoon recess, I managed to avoid the student formerly known as Timothy.

“Hey, Tom,” called a surprising voice. There was Darrell leaning against the school wall. He stood on one leg, resting his other foot up the wall next to his standing knee.

I thought he looked like a flamingo. But so did my dad and uncles when they stood the same way.

Next to Darrell was bobblehead Bob.

Darrell named his pal after those nodder mini-statues. Bob liked his nickname because he liked Darrell.

“Tom, we don’t like Timothy,” Darrell confided. “We don’t like the way he’s been treating kids. I saw him pick on you more than once.”

I answered in many nods, which made quiet Bob grin.

“Yeah, he has,” I said. “But I’ve tried avoiding him. I’ve told the teacher. Nothing works.”

Bob stopped nodding. He turned and looked at Darrell.

“We’re going to find Timothy after school,” Darrell shared. “Just come watch. You should like what happens. Follow us when we leave for the day.”

My lips were moving, but no words came out. I looked, and both Bob and Darrell were nodding together. Nodding with huge smiles.

“Okay,” I whispered.

The bell rang. Back inside for one period of free reading. Then, the last bell sounded.

A Surprising Showdown

I walked several feet behind the pair. Then, they started walking faster. Behind the church. Into the vacant lot.

Sure enough, they had learned the route Timothy took home. He was taking huge, careful steps, hoping to walk in pre-made footprints.

“Tim, come here,” Darrell called. “We have something for you.”

He shouted back, “What is it?”

Darrell smiled. “A surprise.”

Tim shrugged and turned back on his way.

“Tim-mo-THEE,” Bob sang. His voice sounded like all mothers.

“Timmy needs his diaper changed!”

That did it. Stomp. Stomp. Stomp.

Darrell stood firm. “Stop picking on kids. Leave us alone.”

Tim shook a fist in the air. “Make me!”

I had lost track of Bob. Where was he?

Darrell said, “Fine. Happy to.”

He ran at Tim, hitting him in the chest with his head and both hands.

“Whoa-oh-oh!” Tim choked. He looked like he was doing a backflip. Then I saw Bob.

He was on his hands and knees behind Tim. He made a human table, allowing Tim to fly farther when shoved.

“We mean it,” Darrell shouted. He helped Bob up, and they both ran back toward the school in silence.

I looked at Tim, wallowing in the snow, trying to stand up. He turned and saw me, a safe 10 feet away.

“Tom!” Tim yelled. “I’ll get you. I’ll get all of you. Just wait!

Tim turned around to continue home. But he didn’t take a single step.

That’s because I tackled him from behind. He landed face-first in the snow. “Uffff!”

When I leaped atop him, I felt like a cowboy riding a bucking bronco. Then, Tim sounded like a whoopee cushion losing all its air.

“No more!” I growled. “Leave me alone. Leave us all alone.”

A rumbling voice answered. “Or whutttt?”

I grabbed his soaked head and gave him a snow shampoo. “That’s what. I’ll do it every day until you stop.”

“No!”

“Yes!”

“Get off him. Let him up!”

A lady living across the street saw me. “Every day, Timothy,” I promised.

I wanted to dunk him again. I wanted to dunk him until it was dark.

“I’m calling the police!” the lady screamed.

I ran away. Timothy never followed.

Instead, I faced an even bigger bully the next day.

The scariest part of the next day at school was the silence.

Darrell and Bob said nothing to me. Neither did Timothy!

When the last bell rang, Miss T pounded on her desk.

“Darrell. Bob. Tom. Stay here. We’re going to have a talk.”

She motioned us to cross the hall to the furnace room. We all followed.

Waiting there was a woman who looked like Miss T’s sister. This stranger had her hair in curlers. They were held down with a black headscarf.

“Stand in front of the furnace, boys,” our teacher ordered.

The door opened. Timothy came in and stood next to the woman who was his mother.

“This is Mrs. Snodgrass. She wants to talk to you.”

The woman sneered at each of us. “You ganged up on my boy!” she said. “I’m ready to turn you in to the police.”

Timothy seemed to have a halo over his head when his mother looked at him. Otherwise, his scowl and squint returned.

“I’ve been friends with Mrs. Snodgrass for years,” Miss T informed us. “I’m ashamed my students would act this way.”

The rest of the tag team lady lecture sounded like a non-stop buzzing. At last, the teacher opened the door, shooing us out.

Darrell and Bob grunted goodbyes at me.

I picked at my Swanson TV Dinner that night.

“I’m in trouble at school. Bully trouble,” I confessed.

My Mom stood up. “I’m going to sort laundry so you two can talk.”

My Dad pushed his empty foil tray aside. And I told him everything.

“You told me to fight back. I did. Now, there’s all this trouble.”

Dad stood, then smiled as he looked down at me.

“I’ll see you at school tomorrow afternoon,” he said, patting my shoulder. “Wait for me with Darrell and Bob.”

I stood and hugged him. I didn’t hear any police sirens that night as I tried to sleep.

The next day, I told the guys my dad was coming. “He wants you guys to be there.”

They nodded, but just stood and stared at me.

I smiled. “He’s my dad. He has to help. Somehow…”

The school day took forever. At last, it was over. Or was it?

The class doorway was filled with my father, all 6-foot-2 of him.

He wore his black suit, black tie, white shirt and black wingtip shoes. My dad was draped in his chocolate brown wool overcoat. I thought it looked more like a superhero cape.

“I am Ernest T. Owens. I need to speak with you right now about my son and his two classmates. There’s been a huge mistake,” Dad said.

Miss T started to sit down at her desk. “No, we need to go meet in the furnace room,” he ordered. “Just like yesterday.”

She stood up and put her hands on her hips. This teacher struck that pose before she’d yell at a kid.

“Or would you rather us do this with your principal in his office?” Dad asked.

My teacher’s face started twitching. I think she was trying to smile.

“No, no, no!” she bubbled. “The furnace room is fine.”

“After you, ma’am.”

She walked in. I followed Dad. Darrell and Bob came next.

“The teacher told us to stand in front of the furnace,” I pointed out to Dad.

Miss T shook her head and waved her arms. “Anywhere is fine, Tom. Shall I bring in more chairs?”

My dad flashed a small but determined smile. “We won’t be here that long.”

My teacher tried to smile back. “You didn’t have to come to have your son apologize. It’s all forgotten.”

“No, it’s not! You seem confused. These boys tried to enlist your help when the Snodgrass bully wouldn’t leave them alone. They had to take matters into their own hands.”

Miss T realized where my dad stood. He was in front of the door, blocking her escape.

“Then, you and your long-time buddy Mrs. Snodgrass ganged up on them in here with Timothy watching.”

The teacher tried to look insulted. “Maybe we were hasty. But that’s all done now. The boys have learned their lesson.”

‘The Truth Shall Set You Free’

Dad cleared his throat. Then, this lion roared.

“No, what YOU did was wrong. This is your time to apologize and say that this will never happen again.”

Miss T took shook her head repeatedly. Bobblehead Bob was biting his lip, trying not to laugh.

“No! I won’t beg for forgiveness in front of…children!”

My father made his hand into a stop sign.

“Well, I have another idea. I know the names of the superintendent and the school board members. And the city editor at the daily paper. Shall we go see them, instead?”

She closed her eyes and hung her head.

“Pardon me. I am sorry, and it won’t happen again.”

She looked up and smiled. But my dad wasn’t.

“Don’t tell me!” he commanded. “Tell them.”

Miss T glared at him. Then she turned in my direction.

“Tom, Darrell, Bob, I am sorry. This will not happen again. Really.”

My dad nodded. He held the door and motioned for the lady first to leave. She did. In fact, she disappeared. Or, Miss T ran and hid.

Darrell stopped and looked up at my dad before leaving.

“Thank you, Mister Owens. Tom, you have the coolest dad ever!”

Bob grinned and nodded one zillion times to show how happy he was.

I was driven home that day by the person who showed me that bullies come in all varieties. But there are always ways to fight back.

He was the best teacher I ever had.

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