Hell Is For Children

[hondarobot]

I was just thinking about bullies (not to mention what a strange word that is, I wonder about it's origin. . .but I digress). People, in any given situation, seem to flock together and find power bases to protect themselves. The people who don't manage to fit into a given social structure often times find themselves prayed upon by those within said power structures. The "strong", who fortify the group, demonstrate their power by preying on the "weak", or the outsiders.

I'm rambling, but here's a story to demonstrate what I'm rolling around in my head right now:

I can clearly remember a day in kindegarten when my class was tasked with a stupid "color book" assignment, I was 6 years old. It was also the day I kissed a girl for the first time. Her name was Jennifer Bell, and I don't remember anything else about her beyond that. This was 1973 or '74, so the schools were pretty hippy dippy at the time and I got away with kissing this girl for awhile until the teacher got back into class, probably returning from smoking a joint in the teachers lounge or something :)

Anyhoo, Jennifer and I got yelled at and sent to our desks to do the color book thing. I did a shitty job and handed my paper in. The reward for doing well was this little plastic bear toy that the teacher handed out, and since I fucked up my assignment I didn't get one. The kid sitting next to me got one, and he thought it would be funny to pour some salt in my wounds about the fact that I had failed.

I was never a big kid, never bully material myself, but the fact that this kid was fuckin with me pissed me off. I grabbed my "safety scissors" (the ones with the rounded edges) and told the jerk that if he didn't give me his plastic bear, I was going to demonstrate just how "un-safe" those scissors could be. The kid started crying and told the teacher what I was doing, and I had to sit in the corner of the room the rest of the day. I didn't get a plastic bear toy, and never kissed Jennifer Bell again.

I had acted like a bully, but it earned me respect with the other kids. After that, I always made friends with the big jock guys, because I didn't ever want to get bullied myself. I stuck up for the harrased kids when I could get away with it without letting my shields down, but something about threatening that kid with the scissors that day still bothers me.

I guess the moral of the story is. . .actually I don't know what it is. . .

How about: If you want a plastic bear toy and a sweet girl to kiss, do a decent job on your color book project.

Anyone else got any interesting school days stories? I've got tons more, just seeing if the ball will get moving or not on this thread. School days were pretty strange for a lot of people, but still a topic worth discussing I suppose.

[blahblahblah]

I was just thinking about bullies (not to mention what a strange word that is, I wonder about it's origin. . .but I digress). People, in any given situation, seem to flock together and find power bases to protect themselves. The people who don't manage to fit into a given social structure often times find themselves prayed upon by those within said power structures. The "strong", who fortify the group, demonstrate their power by preying on the "weak", or the outsiders.

I'm rambling, but here's a story to demonstrate what I'm rolling around in my head right now:

I can clearly remember a day in kindegarten when my class was tasked with a stupid "color book" assignment, I was 6 years old. It was also the day I kissed a girl for the first time. Her name was Jennifer Bell, and I don't remember anything else about her beyond that. This was 1973 or '74, so the schools were pretty hippy dippy at the time and I got away with kissing this girl for awhile until the teacher got back into class, probably returning from smoking a joint in the teachers lounge or something :)

Anyhoo, Jennifer and I got yelled at and sent to our desks to do the color book thing. I did a shitty job and handed my paper in. The reward for doing well was this little plastic bear toy that the teacher handed out, and since I fucked up my assignment I didn't get one. The kid sitting next to me got one, and he thought it would be funny to pour some salt in my wounds about the fact that I had failed.

I was never a big kid, never bully material myself, but the fact that this kid was fuckin with me pissed me off. I grabbed my "safety scissors" (the ones with the rounded edges) and told the jerk that if he didn't give me his plastic bear, I was going to demonstrate just how "un-safe" those scissors could be. The kid started crying and told the teacher what I was doing, and I had to sit in the corner of the room the rest of the day. I didn't get a plastic bear toy, and never kissed Jennifer Bell again.

I had acted like a bully, but it earned me respect with the other kids. After that, I always made friends with the big jock guys, because I didn't ever want to get bullied myself. I stuck up for the harrased kids when I could get away with it without letting my shields down, but something about threatening that kid with the scissors that day still bothers me.

I guess the moral of the story is. . .actually I don't know what it is. . .

How about: If you want a plastic bear toy and a sweet girl to kiss, do a decent job on your color book project.

Anyone else got any interesting school days stories? I've got tons more, just seeing if the ball will get moving or not on this thread. School days were pretty strange for a lot of people, but still a topic worth discussing I suppose.

Very interesting, indeed.
Spit out some more of your stories and i'll tell you what your diagnosis is.

[Quinn]

I think everyone, from the toughest of us to the weakest of us, has had to deal with at least one bully throughout the duration of their school experience. The way I see it, dealing with bullies is a good thing that builds character.

My bully experience was probably a little different than most. In my case, I wasn’t afraid of him and knew I could kick his ass, but was prevented from doing so by a healthy fear of my father. Being raised in what was – by any definition – a brutal household, I was used to getting the living shit getting kicked out of me for the slightest infraction (real or imagined). Fighting, which had been something of a frequent experience in school until about 5th grade, was considered a particularly serious infraction. The last time I had done it (5th grade), I was literally beaten into unconsciousness when I went home. As one might imagine, for all the good it did, I endeavored to prevent this event from reoccurring – which meant putting up with shit from a bully.

His name was Shawn. He gave me shit every fucking day for months during 7th grade. He poked me with pencils, spit on me, and did everything he could to provoke me. I kept telling my mother what was happening and asked for permission to “resolve” the problem. Finally, one day, when both my parents came to pick me up from school for a trip we were to take that weekend, I mentioned it to my mother in the car – in front of my father. My father, who I thought would kick the shit out of me for getting into any confrontational situation – whether I provoked it or not – responded by asking me a question. He asked me if the kid was still inside, pointing to the school building. I told him that he was. My father finally said the words I had only dreamed of hearing: “Get him, now.”

I ran into the building to find my bully sitting on his legs, with his knees under him, cleaning his locker out while waiting for the buses to arrive. When he saw me, he threw a pencil at me. I responded by kicking him in the face, which actually knocked out a few of his upper front teeth. I followed this up by slamming his head into the locker until he went limp. Long story short: he was taken to the hospital with a severe concussion, missing teeth, and some very deep cuts to his face. The teachers, who had seen what was happening for months, believed me when I told them it was self-defense. So did the police. My punishment: ten days suspension, psychiatric evaluation, and you guessed it – a severe beating from my father.

All in all, I regard the whole thing as a positive experience that helped me.

-Quinn

[BeardedOne]

Being one with earth, fire, wind, and water, I too tend to seek the path of least resistance. I'm not one to get into a scrap (Though my closest friends were horrified at the potential results of my having finally learned the ins and outs of firearms), yet I seemed to draw bullies like a magnet all through school.

Eventually, by sixth grade/age ten or so, I came to the conclusion that I was never going win against any of them, so I might as well start playing with them. Not like playing-in-the-park with them, more like playing-with-the-mouse-before-the-kill, much as a cat might do.

Bullies are like cats. Once they discover where the mouse comes out, they camp there until they catch it. Unlike cats, however, most bullies are dumb-ass little fuckwads that can't imagine that their prey might be smarter than they are. After a couple of times of getting jumped as I was leaving school (Usually after the unneccessary warning of how they were going to 'kill' me after school), I adapted to the situation and began using other exits from the building (Of which there were at least a dozen, some even within sight of the main entrance and the reasons of my detour).

This went on for an amazing number of weeks before they finally got tired of waiting for me (Sometimes in blissfully dismal weather). I have to wonder whether they thought I was living in the school building or something, as I was there every morning, but clearly never left the building at night. Unlike cats, who will eventually tire of waiting and prowl around looking for an alternate egress, these guys never sussed out that there might be a way to get around them.

Some of these goons eventually died from misadventure, went on to become local politicians, or followed their family heritage and joined the force (Allowing them to beat people 'legally'). The rest of us, such as myself, Mike Wallace, Mike Dukakis, and Conan O'Brien, got away from that damned town.

Life has been a bit better on the outside. 8)

[InHouston]

I was just thinking about bullies (not to mention what a strange word that is, I wonder about it's origin. . .but I digress). People, in any given situation, seem to flock together and find power bases to protect themselves. The people who don't manage to fit into a given social structure often times find themselves prayed upon by those within said power structures. The "strong", who fortify the group, demonstrate their power by preying on the "weak", or the outsiders.

I'm rambling, but here's a story to demonstrate what I'm rolling around in my head right now:

I can clearly remember a day in kindegarten when my class was tasked with a stupid "color book" assignment, I was 6 years old. It was also the day I kissed a girl for the first time. Her name was Jennifer Bell, and I don't remember anything else about her beyond that. This was 1973 or '74, so the schools were pretty hippy dippy at the time and I got away with kissing this girl for awhile until the teacher got back into class, probably returning from smoking a joint in the teachers lounge or something :)

Anyhoo, Jennifer and I got yelled at and sent to our desks to do the color book thing. I did a shitty job and handed my paper in. The reward for doing well was this little plastic bear toy that the teacher handed out, and since I fucked up my assignment I didn't get one. The kid sitting next to me got one, and he thought it would be funny to pour some salt in my wounds about the fact that I had failed.

I was never a big kid, never bully material myself, but the fact that this kid was fuckin with me pissed me off. I grabbed my "safety scissors" (the ones with the rounded edges) and told the jerk that if he didn't give me his plastic bear, I was going to demonstrate just how "un-safe" those scissors could be. The kid started crying and told the teacher what I was doing, and I had to sit in the corner of the room the rest of the day. I didn't get a plastic bear toy, and never kissed Jennifer Bell again.

I had acted like a bully, but it earned me respect with the other kids. After that, I always made friends with the big jock guys, because I didn't ever want to get bullied myself. I stuck up for the harrased kids when I could get away with it without letting my shields down, but something about threatening that kid with the scissors that day still bothers me.

I guess the moral of the story is. . .actually I don't know what it is. . .

How about: If you want a plastic bear toy and a sweet girl to kiss, do a decent job on your color book project.

Anyone else got any interesting school days stories? I've got tons more, just seeing if the ball will get moving or not on this thread. School days were pretty strange for a lot of people, but still a topic worth discussing I suppose.

Seems to me you were just pre-occupied with Jennifer, and your school work for that day suffered as a result. That has happened to the best of us men throughtout our lives. I would have told your classmate "Fuck your little teddy bear, I was kissing Jennifer ... nah nah nah nah!"

Let it go dude.

[BeardedOne]

I would have told your classmate "Fuck your little teddy bear, I was kissing Jennifer ... nah nah nah nah!"

:lol: :lol: :lol: :lol: :lol: :lol: :lol: :lol: :lol: :lol:

OK, you win! Bonus points! Game, set, match! :lol:

[hondarobot]

Hehe. . . grade school trauma stories don't seem to be drawing a big response thus far.

Great stories in this thread. I know Quinn is an Irish descended bastard like myself so I can totally relate to his post. I am learning to not be so hot headed anymore, however.

Patience and discipline is the key.

School was weird. Any other stories out there?