Remembering an Event

               It was the end of my seventh-grade reading comprehension final exams, and everyone in the class was filled with joy after finishing their exams. We were all enjoying the last few moments we had with each other before the class was over. The teacher brought musical instruments to class, and we had a lot of fun playing and listening to them. We made every effort to have a good time and cherish the short time we had left together. Many of us started to crack jokes and play competitive games on the computers.

          Then suddenly, I started to hear a different type of laughter, and it  grew in intesity throughout the classroom. This was not the joyful  feeling I had felt a few moments ago. This laughter was directed at one person in the room, and that was me. There was a student,  Logan, who I had barely spoken to in class. He had noticed how I had been getting bullied earlier in the school year, and he wanted to get an opportunity to be the center of attention. He started asking me embarrassing questions like, “Hey did you eat lions for dinner back in Africa?”  Then, he would make funny noises with his mouth and insult my background and culture. I tried not pay  any attention to him, so I turned away from him and continued to play games on the computer. 

               One of my close friends came up to me and tried to cheer me up. He started to explain everything Logan had said about me. I turned to my friend and said, “I’m not worried about that man. He’s not worth my time.” We both started to laugh, and we kept playing on the computer. I tried not to say anything bad about Logan, but he continued to make comments about me to others. I decided to crack some jokes about him, but instead of saying them to the whole classroom. I said them only to my friend. I said, “bro that man is so fat that we could use his belly as a trampoline.” My friend and I started laughing, but my friend was the loudest person in the room, and everyone heard him. He was rolling on the floor laughing uncontrollably. I continued to make fun of Logan, and everyone started to join me. Logan ended up saying nothing, but he kept his head down until the end of class when we were all dismissed. I started walking toward the bus, and all of a sudden, I experienced a violent attack from behind me. Suddenly, I turned around, and I punched the person  who had just hit me. The moment my fists made a connection I realized that I had hit  Logan. He had just hit me in the back with his binder. After I punched him, he fell to the ground, and I  stood over him. Everyone circled around me because they were shocked  that I had  just knocked Logan unconcious.

           There was a teacher who saw me punch Logan. She yelled at the crowd and said, “everyone single one of you should go home!”  Then, she turned to the both of us and said, “You two, in my room now!” By this time, Logan was awake and getting up off the floor. We started walking towards the teacher’s room, and when I got to her room, I started having doubts and regrets about the whole situation. I started thinking about what my teacher and parents would say. Fear and deep dread consumed me as I heard the heels of her shoes approach the room. She grabbed us and reported us to our teacher. I had built such a good relationship with my English teacher that year, but when I looked into his eyes, all I saw was disappointment. It felt like I had let him down. Instead of going home that day, he ended up escorting both of us to the principal’s office.  

               When the principal heard what had happened, he cautioned the both of us sternly, and told us to sit outside and wait to be called into his office. He gave each of us a statement sheet so we could both write an explaination  of our side  of the story. He peeked out of his office and called my name. The principal had an angry look on his face, and before I could even say a word, he tells me, “I have a low tolerance for foolishness in my school. You mean to tell me that you knocked out a student? What do you have to say for yourself?” I sat up, took a deep breath, and explained everything that had happened. I was trying to explain to the principal that it was all out of instinct, and I only wanted to defend myself. He told me, “That is not a good excuse for putting your hands on someone. I have no other choice but to suspend you. I will call your parents, and you will have to work out a way with the rest of your teachers to finish your finals. Now get out of my office!” I walked away mad because I was expecting the principal to understand. Logan was sitting across from me, and my hands were clenched in rage. All I wanted to do was walk over to where he was sitting and unleash my wrath on him, but I took another deep breath and waited for my dad to come pick me up. Someone in the front office walked up and called for my attention. They wanted me to know that my dad was ready to pick me up.

                    When I saw my dad, he had a very angry look on his face.  He asked me what happened, so I told him everything. When we got home, he was very disappointed in me for the way I had handled the situation. He said, “I expect these behaviors from other people, but not from you.” When I heard those words, I felt a sense of frustration towards myself because I felt that I had disappointed everyone who expected more from me. I ended up not being able to enjoy my winter break because my parents took away all my electronics, and they made me sit in my room. As the days went by, I started to realize that there are other ways to handle a problem. I cannot control the way others treat me. However, what I  can control is how I  choose to respond. I can choose to do the right thing by avoiding violence and abusive words by ignoring them.

Picture Citation:

"Kickboxing Fighting" by Skitter Photo is marked with CC0 1.0.