When I was in junior high, I was coming through a crowded area after lunch when I felt a hard punch square in the middle of my back. It was too crowded to move as we all pushed through the door; but I didn't have to take more than a brief glance to know exactly who had done it. "Gina" followed me down the hall with her posse of fight starters and mumbled comments under her breath at me.
I was terrified.
I was in 8th grade. She was in 7th and I was probably about 12 inches taller than her. But I was still scared. She ran with a rough gang, and she was always in the office getting in trouble, often for fighting. I, on the other hand, was the good kid. The only time I ever had to visit the principal was for student council issues. I was a fairly likeable kid, which made that hard punch on my back even more puzzling and upsetting to me.
"Gina" had her henchmen get messages to me that she was going to beat me up, at lunch, after lunch, at the next school dance, after school, before school, when I was at my locker. For two years, I made sure I was never alone. I spent two years being terrified of her, despite the fact that she never got close enough to lay another finger on me. It wasn't just at school either. I was also afraid I'd see her at the mall on the weekend and that she'd take care of her unfinished business there.
I casually mentioned something to my parents once about "Gina." My parents left me handle it and never called the school. Thinking back, I wish my dad would have taught me how to punch. He was the underdog kid when he was in school until the day he beat up the bully who picked on everyone else. It was a similar situation, but I didn't want to fight. Knowing how to though, would have been a nice back-up and a bit more reassuring than just avoiding "Gina" in the halls.
When I moved up to 10th grade, the sense of relief I felt was remarkable. I was a new person. After feeling like I was under duress for all those years, I was finally free from "Gina" and her doom crew. I enjoyed that year like I hadn't previously enjoyed another. For that reason, the year flew. I never once ran into "Gina" at school functions or off campus and for that I was both thankful and relieved.
On the first day of 11th grade, I was nervous. "Gina" would be coming up to the high school, and I was dreading it. I thought about it all summer long. The high school was huge and combined two junior highs, so it was possible to go quite some time without running into someone. I knew it was going to happen eventually.
It was about four weeks into the school year when it finally did. My friend and I were leaving English class and heading down the hall. There she was, coming at me and scowling. She had an awful look on her face and I knew she meant business. The thing I had going in my favor was that my friend and I had continued to grow; she hadn't.
I don't remember that we had some grand meeting or plan for when we saw her, but we must have had a mental agreement between the two of us. Jen and I made a conscious decision that "Gina" wasn't going to divide us, intimidate us, or cause either of us any more stress. As she walked faster in our direction, we picked up the pace in her direction. As she got within feet of us she slowed down for a confrontation; but my friend and I weren't having any of that.
Shoulder to shoulder, Jen and I continued to walk as fast as we could right into "Gina." We knocked her over onto the floor, and she went skidding on her butt. She wasn't hurt, but she definitely knew that the tables had turned. We didn't say a word to her, just kept on walking, and she never bothered either one of us again. She never even make eye contact again, and I was able to rest easy. It was finally over after almost four years of feeling terrorized.
During those horrible years, it wasn't so much the physical threat that bothered me. I could have handled being beaten up, I'm sure. What was so awful was the mental aspect. "Gina" terrorized me and made school unpleasant when it had been just fine before. She deflated me and took the fun out of my days and extracurricular activities. I thought about her often and wondered what I ever did to make her hate me so much. I had never even talked to her. She wasn't in my grade or involved in any of the activities I was involved in, so why did she hate me so much? That was the part that bothered me the most.
People, in general, want people to like them. It's hurtful when someone doesn't, especially when you know you haven't done anything to deserve it. When I think back about that incident now, I so wish I knew then what I know now. If I hadn't acted so afraid of her, I wouldn't have made such a nice target for her. If I had confronted her after she hit me, it might have boiled down into a fight; but it also might have stopped right there. If I had shown her that I wasn't afraid of her, she might have backed off. If my dad had taught me how to throw a good punch, that would have helped as well. I would have felt prepared and that would have taken away a lot of the fear.
When Big I complained about being picked on by a couple little girls last year, I took her complaints very seriously. It wasn't anything major, just some laughing at her and excluding her; but I know that it doesn't take much. I assured her that it was o.k. for her to speak up for herself, to tell them to knock it off, and that if push came to shove (literally) I wanted her to know that I supported her defending herself. (She did actually use a wrist escape on the bus one day.) I didn't want her feeling intimidated the way that I had, and I don't believe she did. She never complained about going to school and those little bullies seemed to be more of a minor annoyance than anything else. They certainly weren't the center of her school experience the way "Gina" was to mine.
Big I and I are a lot alike. We're both very sensitive and want people to like us. She's so much like me that it makes me nervous sometimes. I don't want her to be so sensitive and so worried about what everyone else thinks.
But there's one major difference between us. I started karate when I was 29. Big I started at age three. There are plenty out there who joke about children in the martial arts not being able to defend themselves, that it's a money making venture only. That's not at all true of our experience and our dojo.
While the martial arts at a young age may not be able to teach a child how to take out a 6'4" attacker, karate offers an amazing self-confidence to children. If I had been in Big I's shoes, I would have tried to stay home from school. I would have stressed about those little girls. I know, because I did the exact same thing in junior high school. Big I did none of those things. Through that experience, I saw that she has great self-esteem, and I definitely know she wouldn't have a problem defending herself against another child.
To be able to spare her the emotional trauma that I went through myself with "Gina" is one of the best gifts I could ever give my child. I often talk about how the martial arts has impacted my life and why I love it so much; but there is nothing that thrills me more about the martial arts than what it has done for Big I.
