School Bully

I think every male I know has had some kind of monster bully in his life, predominately in the early grades of school. We see them portrayed everywhere in movies, cartoons, stories, and everyone can relate to knowing one, and even fewer admit to have been one - but everyone one knows how they make life hell for the "smaller sized" person. This is a story of one, so let's go back a few years, show you how old I really am....

Moving to Arizona was my way out of what I thought was a bad situation. Dad had passed away in early 1985, and I spent the next year in what I felt like, was hell for a teenager, living with my step mom and half sister (who was about 2 1/2). My Mother had remarried several years before, and since she had custody of my sister & brother, had moved to California, then on to Phoenix, AZ by this time. So calling Mom and asking to come live with her was what I thought the best thing to do. I came out that summer, and prepared to start as a freshman at a new high school being built in the district.

I don't know if you need this background information, but since some people compare me to Cliff Clavin, the trivial facts gotta come out sooner or later. This school district (Deer Valley Unified) is the largest school district in the continental US. It covers most of N. Phoenix, plus up to 25 miles north. In 1986, there was only 1 existing HS, and Goldwater (my school) was in the process. Goldwater would take only 1/2 of the districts 9th & 10th grades, and as each year progressed, would open each successive year. My sister was a senior when I started, so we did not attend the same school, rode different buses, etc. And as a side note, cuz I think I am proud of it, I am of the First Full Graduating Class from Goldwater. Sometimes I can be such a braggart. On with the story ...

Now being in the "Big City" was a bit different for me. The HS was only about 4 miles away - easy bike ride distance for early morning band practices - but the number of students was shocking. There was usually more than 30 kids in each of my regular course classes, where I was used to like 15-20. Of course, about 90% of the students knew of each other as they had attended Jr High together, and I being new and from out of state, felt very uncomfortable...I was never fast at making friends anyways. The first few weeks are typical - settle into a scheduled routine, pretty much figure out who to avoid, who the jocks are, who are the class gov't types, etc, etc. Me, I was a band geek. I didn't care what they called me, because I knew I was doing more than they, as I marched with a 45 pound marching bass held upright in front of me for 20 minute performances. I don't see football guys doing that... maybe carry a 3 pound bag of leather and air for 5 yards then put it down. Anyways I am getting off track....

New schools opening mean many new teachers coming into jobs. One such new teacher was my 3rd period, General Science teacher, Mrs. Kelly. She was from Scotland, and had an accent that you had to think twice when she was talking to you to understand what she was saying. She spoke slowly enough for general class teaching, but otherwise would slip and speed up. So, I'm new, the school is new, and my science teacher is new. And so is the trouble that started that 9th grade year.It was that fateful day in October of 1986 that I remember when the world went off-kilter, and I became open game to the carrion beasts. I sat in front of a giant of a student named George Duker. This guy stood 6'2" as a 9th grader, was on the JV football team, played almost last chair trumpet in band with me. We sorta knew each other. More like I knew he was a dumb-ass jock that had other people do his homework for him, and that he sucked playing trumpet. He knew me as excelling in all my classes, especially science, and decided that that particular day was to start my life of hell. The classroom is quiet as we are in the middle of a mid-term exam on what we have learned so far. I feel a pencil tap and a whisper "Ralph!". I know it is coming from George sitting behind me. I know he is wanting an answer for a question on the test. I ignore him. "Ralph!" I hear again just a tad louder. "Give me the answer to #2." I look up to see where the teacher is, she is sitting in the front middle at her desk, we are on the far right. Again a tap on the should er from behind. I shake my head no emphatically. "Ralph, you better help me with some of these answers. Now I need #2." I quickly risk a half-turn towards him and whisper back "No. Now leave me alone." As I turn back around, I feel a huge hand grasp my shoulder, and pull me backwards. About that time, Mrs. Kelly looks up and around - the hand drops. As she goes back to her grading, or whatever, the hand comes back up and the voice speaks, "If you don't help me, I am going to beat your ass after school."

What would any normal, scared, smaller-sized person do at this point? I think we all know. I bowed my head in resignation, then I thought, 'Fuck this. Let's see what can happen.' I stood up, turned around to face George square, and sentenced my life. In a voice loud enough to fill the room, so everyone could hear, "George, I am not going to give you any answer on this test. So you can quick poking me with your pencil, keep your hands to yourself, and leave me the fuck alone!" Yes, I really did say the F word. Mrs. Kelly of course stood up and was asking "What is going on here"

George turned redder and redder in the face, and I could sense it was time to move. I grabbed my backpack and test, and headed to the front. As I took that first step, I felt the shirt on my back start to stretch as we tried to go separate directions. George grabbed me and shoved me into the storage closets along the wall. I dropped the book bag and test. I turned, prepared to do battle to the death. My dad had taught me how to fight, and I was not immune to it in my younger years. All I could see was a mountain, with an arm going backwards. Then my salvation (or so I thought) came in the form of Mrs. Kelly. From out of nowhere, she appears next to George, reaches past him and grabs his ear. Yes, just like you see old grannies do to their misbehaving kids. Mrs. Kelly drops George to his seat, holding his ear to keep him from moving, and demands to know what is going on. So I told her. George was wanting me to give him answers on the test, and threatened to beat me up after school if I did not. George denied it all, but I think Mrs. Kelly knew from his academics what was really the truth. She escorted him out the door to the office. I never got in trouble for anything. The next day, class went on like normal, but George had been moved to another teacher's class.

So all is well that ends well? It didn't end there. George was in band also, and he tried to cause problems there, but I had enough back-up there was no trouble. He ended up dropping band because he would fail since he was playing football. We also had PE together, and in the winter wrestling was the agenda. At George's request, the coach put the two of us against each other. Yeah he was 6'2" and I was like 5'8", but I weighed over 200 (I was a butterball). I won that match, which only infuriated George more, especially when the coach asked me to join the wrestling team for the heavyweight division. I declined. For the next 2 years, I never had a class with George, we would only see each other passing the hallways, where he would always try to trip me or push me into the walls.

My senior year, my brother was a freshman at Goldwater. My brother was very small at this stage. He looked the size of a 5th grader, and I in pure Senior form, had been teasing him at home for weeks about how if my friends or I saw him we would stick him in a trashcan, etc. Pure terror to a freshman, and especially to him, as he thought we really would. The lockers in the halls were small squares about 2'x2' and stacked about 4 high. Stuart, my brother, had a top one, that he couldn't hardly reach. Turns out, George had a middle one, and they "traded lockers, and George found out Stuart was my brother. I don't know all the details to this day, but George agreed to "protect" my brother from my friends & I. George also ended up in my Gov't class for the year.

Nothing much happened that year. Stuart would run the other way anytime he saw me int he hall or around school. George never bothered me, anywhere, even in class. I let it all pass thinking maybe he finally matured. Bullies never do. We were in the final 2 months prior to graduating, when George decided it was time for revenge. One day after school, I was headed to the bike rack to get my 10-speed and head home. As I am wrapping the chain around the seat rack, I hear a voice ask me, "Got a problem there Ralphie?" I look up and see George. I quickly lock the lock and start to pull the bike out. "Looks like a couple flat tires, Ralphie." Sure enough, somehow both tires were flat. George drops his books and starts to close in on the 3 steps between us. I kind of tossed the bike to deter him, but he just shoved it aside. I am thinking, this is it - no one around, no teachers, I am getting my ass creamed. George shoves me hard in the chest and I stumble back about 3 steps. "I been waiting a long time for this Ralphie. Ever since 9th grade. you are dead meat." and he starts to pull back to swing. I don't know what to do at this point, my mind is blank, and all I can think of is I do not want to get hit by that punch. I turn as he swings and the punch hits my book bag, which has a few textbooks in it. This doesn't phase George, and he draws back again, reaching to turn me around with the other hand. As he turned me, I spun and kicked out as hard as I could...hoping for the groin shot. Instead I hear a scream from George, and he falls to the ground. I quickly step over to my bike, and start hustling down the road to home, never looking back.

For the next week, George had a crutch. Seems I missed his crotch by quite a bit, and ended up kicking his knee out. George never came near me the rest of the school year, and I ignored him as I always had done. Graduation came, and that was the last time I saw George. I figured he probably went to some Community College and ended up as some manual labor worker in some warehouse. Never cared. The 10 year reunion came up, and I attended. Friday night was basically a cocktail mixer, and I had went alone. After a couple hours of mingling, George sought me out. I had seen him earlier, and was just avoiding him as I did in school. He caught me by surprise as I was sitting at a table. After basic pleasantries, I asked him point blank - What do you want? George startled me by saying to apologize for harassing me for the years of HS. He said he never realized what a bully he had been until he got into college, and wanted to say sorry for those 4 years. I accepted, and asked him if the knee injury ever kept him from playing a football scholarship, to which he had said no. He had lost interest the senior year, and wasn't really good enough for scholarship anyways. We shook hands, and parted company. My buddy Scott comes up about then and asks what happened. I told him nothing, George and I were just reminding each other of the HS days.