I was bullied. It was either 1st, 2nd or 3rd grade,
so I was somewhere around 6 - 8 years of age.
He was just bigger than us and a year or so older than us,
and apparently had a mean streak.
I don't remember how much he bullied me.
I only remember one incident.
I had a brand new white knitted hat that my grandmother had made for me.
He filled it with mud and threw it into the woods while I was walking home from school.
One day while I was walking home, I saw him bullying Armand B.
Marcel was throwing rocks at him and making him cry.
Armand B. was the quiet un-cool kid everyone made fun of.
Something inside me rose up with righteous indignation,
and I yelled at and chased Marcel the bully away.
I don't believe he ever bullied me again after that.
I'm getting a vague memory of making a regular habit of standing up to him after that.
I wasn't afraid of him anymore.
|