Jay Tea over at Wizbang is ruminating on the lessons that can, and perhaps should be learned from schoolyard scuffles.
This reminds me of the single genuine fight I ever got into in school. I was in seventh grade (at Eisenhower Middle School in San Antonio, for those of you keeping score). There was a guy a grade behind me who took the same bus home, so we generally had to hang around in the same area of the bus stop after school. He was a nasty bastard - hyper-aggressive and a real bully.
One afternoon, I somehow got on his bad side and he started going for me. You have to understand that I was a flabby, scrawny and (at the same time) slightly chunky kid with thick glasses. I don't think he really expected any resistance. Nonetheless, for whatever reason, something snapped off in me: when he started shoving me around, I hauled off and slugged him. To this day, I remember the round-eyed look of wonder that sat on his face for an instant. Then the battle light flamed up and he came for me again.
As it turned out, the kid was aggressive but very wild. He sent haymakers all over the place, only a few of which got anywhere near me. In the meantime, I managed to land several solid shots to his face, eventually bloodying his nose. After a time, he closed in and we fell down in a clinch. I dunno what would have happened next, because at that point the bus stop monitor appeared and broke it up. She then marched us off to the vice principal's office, where it was explained to me that the punishment for fighting was a paddling (this was in, lessee, about 1977 or so). I was given a permission slip to take home for my parents to sign and dismissed back to the bus.
When I got home, I explained to the 'rents what had happened. They told me that I'd done exactly the right thing, but that the rules were the rules and I had to go ahead and take the punishment.
The next day, I remember that I was in Mr. Gillespie's history class when word came down from the office that they were ready for me. As I left the room, I could hear the whispering all around me.
When I got to the VP, he again explained why I was being punished and asked me if I was sorry. I said yes I was, but that I had only been defending myself and that I'd probably do it again if I had to. He nodded and proceeded to have me empty my back pockets and lean over a chair as he reached round for his paddle.
Well, I can't really recall now whether it hurt very much. I don't think so. But here's the thing - I only got one swat. That was it. The other kid, so I was told, got the max of six. And because he was a perpetual troublemaker, I'd go bail the VP hit him harder than me.
Personally, I think I learned an awful lot about character and consequences from that little episode, all of it to the good. I doubt very much that anyone would take away similarly useful wisdom in this day and age.
Posted by Robert at May 26, 2005 12:06 PM