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Showing posts from October, 2016

But, he's a...

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I met my first bully in kindergarten. Mrs H had a son, a boy of 7 or 10. He studied in a different school. Once a week, he would be dropped off at our school during the “rest period” so Mrs H could take him home. Most days he would monkey around on the playground. But on some days, when Mrs H had a staff meeting, he would come into our class, pulling plaits or boxing our ears.  He did receive a gentle rebuke from his mother but that only seemed to fuel his antics. As weeks went on, he became a terror. He had picked up his victims, and I was his favourite; I was puny, stick-like - a good target. From pulling my hair, to whacking my head as he ran about laughing, it was dreadful. School became a fearful place because there was no knowing on which day he would come.  One day he hit my knuckles with the wooden end of the blackboard duster. My fear of this boy was absolute from then on.
Amma had a word with Mrs H. I was reassured I won’t be troubled anymore. As usual that week, Mrs H’s boy…