by Susan Morton

Created on: November 15, 2008   Last Updated: November 17, 2008

When I entered the first grade I was terrified. Mainly because I had never been to kindergarden and I was so shy. The very first day I got into a fight, and with a boy who would bully me till the sixth grade. I was the runt of the family. My sister had cut my hair rather badly. I was poor and my dresses were hand me downs. To top it all off I stuttered very badly. So here comes this boy whom I did not know was held back a year. He called me a funny looking little girl and shoved me against a tree. Well the fight was on, and the worst thing was here, comes my first grade teacher. I was sent to the office for which was a habit for the rest of my elementary school years. He was assigned to sit behind me, and he would never get caught pinching me, but I would hit him with my book, so down to the office I would go.

I spent four years in speech therapy in order to get rid of my stutter. I was not tutored at home. I was the sister of a prodigy, and quiet frankly not wanted. So I was pretty much on my own. In the second grade, I had a teacher that pretty well screamed at us for any little thing, and you could hear her down the hall she was so loud. From the first to second grade I let the bully constantly get me into trouble.

I was in trouble at school, and abused at home. But bythe sixth grade I had enough of the bully, so I told him to meet me after school by the big tree. Then we would settle this problem. I was wearing my favorite plaid dress, along with my saddle oxfords. I had my hair in pigtails, it had grown long by then. I met him when every one had gone home, and I was sure I would get a spanking for getting home late, but this was definitely worth it.

I put my books down, then he put his fists up, and I punched him squarely in the nose! It split his lip and gave him a bloody nose, and much to my amazement he started crying! Here was this giant of a bully crying, and he ran away. I straightened up my dress, picked up my books, and went home smiling. My mother informed me when I went home that I was going to get a whipping. I was still smiling. My father came home took off his belt, walked into my room and asked me what was I smiling about. I told him I whipped the bully, he actually smiled, and put on his belt and walked out of the room.

No one said anything about it that night, and I could not stop smiling till the next day. Later on in the seventh grade we had another bully but this time it was a guy that was huge. I mean he looked like Lou Ferigno the Hulk! But that is another story. the moral to this childhood memory is sometimes you just have to take some things into your own hands. I don't recommend this for other peoples children, and in that day and time was not as violent as it is today. I honestly look back at that as the time I took my fate into my own hands, and I did not even have to mess up my saddle oxfords to do it.

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