As I walked down the 7th grade hallway trying to reach my bus, I tried to get a pest that resided on my back, eating away at my self-esteem and throwing punches at me, off of me. This pest, however, was not the type of pest you are probably thinking about as you read this. This pest was known as a bully. I kept barely walking as I bawled toward the door, thinking that this pest had absolutely no reason to be beating me up.
It all started on a nice, sunny, ordinary Friday afternoon. I had walked out to find that the pest (a boy) previously mentioned standing near my bike, loosening the front wheel of my bike with a screwdriver, banging it on the lever used to loosen the bike’s wheel. As I walked closer, I heard a person saying “Whose bike is that?” “I don’t know,” the boy replied (he obviously didn’t care if he injured someone). When I got closer to the boy, he chuckled and looked up at me and said “Have a nice ride.” He then “fixed it” by loosening it more. After he jogged off to his bus, I tightened the loosened wheel and I biked home. On my way, I saw my dad driving back from Trader Joe’s and explained what had happened to my bike. He then left and I rode home
When I got home (all in one piece, might I add), I told my mom what had happened that afternoon. My mom, immediately switching into Mama Bear mode, called the school and filed a report with the dean. The dean recorded what my mom told him and bode her good bye.
Some problems began to surface when I got to school on Monday. I was unpacking my backpack, throwing books and other materials into my locker nonchalantly as the same boy came up to me and accused me of spreading rumors around the school. I kept denying his false claims but he insisted that I was spreading a false truth around the school. We argued the matter slightly more, but he eventually left, went to his locker, unpacked, and went on with the day.
After the school day was over, he came over to my locker. We had almost the same conversation, except that it ended slightly differently. This time, he shoved me a bit and then punched me in the face and did that over and over again until finally a teacher saw us and stopped the chaos. I felt humiliated, sad, and angry all at the same time as the pest beat me up. The teacher and I then went to the dean who was outside supervising the porch and other outside places. The teacher wanted me to just go onto the bus but the dean stopped me and wanted to hear my side of the story. I told him what my point of view was and then went in the bus.
When I sat down, still sobbing, I was showered with questions. “What did he do to you?” “Does he punch hard?” What did you to deserve that?” I answered the questions that were being thrown at me, but subconsciously. As I sat there feeling as though I was being hounded by the paparazzi, I was thinking hard about that guy who beat me up. I thought that the way he acts is so stupid, and that he only did that to raise the self-esteem of himself at the expense of another’s self-esteem. I thought that one day he would end up in jail because of the way he acts and I would laugh as I was sitting in my luxury condo when he would be living in a jail cell.
When I got home, my mom was there to offer me sympathy. My crying started up again as I squeezed my mom tight; I was so happy to be with her I was in such a time of distress. She then said she had made me cookies. I sat down at the table and wolfed them down as though I hadn’t eaten in a week.
Later that night, I thought that it would be interesting to see what people were saying on Facebook. I immediately found that people were siding with the enemy. “Dude there was a camera on u even! LOL,” is an example of the nature of the people’s comments. That made me even more pissed off at the boy. But, later on, the boy posted “suspended 4 2 days. fml…” That post made me think to myself “Ha-ha! Justice has been served.”
In my point of view, bullying should stop. And the only person who can stop bullies is you. For all of you who are bystanders, you should stand up for the victim and tell someone of authority. When I was bullied, I wish that someone had stopped the pest before he could make any more damage on my ego. So, for all of you who are bullied or are bystanders, be brave and tell an adult. It really helps.