This is a public service message to all kids who attend school with other kids. Listen up.
There is a good chance that if you make fun of, bully, torment, torture, ridicule (or any combination of these behaviors) other kids you go to school with that they will one day come to school and blow your brains out.
Maybe you aren't motivated to be nice to your fellow teenagers because of peer pressure or because they're "different" from you or because you're not particularly nice yourself. Perhaps the threat of imminent death might be that little extra something that makes you think twice before trying to ruin the life of some other unfortunate teenager.
I think we've seen enough examples of kids dressed in black, who are alienated from society and from their peers, coming to school with weapons and shooting.
Just a little something to think about so Mom and Dad don't have to blot up your brains from the cafeteria floor.
2 comments:
I really didn't have a problem being bullied in highschool.
except.... on one occassion.
There was a guy on the football team - big guy - who did not like me at all.
Probably because even though I was so much smaller I managed to make the starting team while he played slightly more minutes than the water boy.
Did I say he was big? Not fat big, mind you. Muscular big. Maybe 6 foot 2.
Anyway the season was over and we were at a crowded basketball game and he walked up to me, looked at me and said my name in disgust, then proceded to lean his head forward and slowly let a big slow mucousy spit (do they still call it a "luger") cascade upon my shoe.
Now I was the better football player but not stupid. He could have killed me with one punch. So the best I could do was look kind of baffled and procede on my way. I guess you could say I played it cool. And it worked to some extent. I did not need to be put on life support after this interaction and somehow I didn't look like a complete coward as my friends looked on.
But secretely I seethed. I was beside myself with rage. All I could do was hope that someday justice would catch up to this low-grade bully.
And so it did. I guess 2 or 3 years later. Yup, I heard the "awful" news that he had gotten so drunk while in the city that on his way back home while waiting for the subway he lost his balance and took a header onto the tracks.
Poor guy. He fell on the tracks. Probably broke an arm or leg or some hurt like that.
But that was probably tough to discern. I mean how was the coroner to know which came first - the broken bones or the train that came roaring into the station to greet his unfortunate circumstance.
Me? Well I really didn't give it that much thought. I kept it simple. Just for the sake of trying to comprehend the moment he experienced I was able to put together the contrast of the look on his face just before he spit on my shoe and compare it in my minds eye to the look on his face when he saw the train of destiny roaring forth.
Now as I look back, yea, I would have loved for him to have feared me as he must have feared that approaching train. But in all honesty, I gotta admit, I was more than satisfied with this compromise.
This is a lovely anecdote. In fact, there is so much to it that I will have to contemplate the inner and outer meanings probably for most of the day.
I would suggest that at your earliest opportunity you send it in letter form to the newspaper on that Indian reservation in Minnesota where the kid blew those people away. I don't think they have subways up there, but I'm sure the meaning will not be lost on them.
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