Looking through a box of old family memorabilia this summer at my Dad and Aunt Kathee's house, I found our year book from 5th grade. It was hard to square how young everyone looked; everyone except for my twin brother and I. We looked normal. Is this because it's us? We don't see ourselves growing older? Is it because I've seen so many younger photos of us growing up over the years that youngster me in 5th grade seems normal?
One of the class photos with accompanying name jumped out at at me - Joey. Instantly the scene focused in my memory of boys surrounding me, a circle around me, their faces jeering masks, taunting me. I can't really member the words, just the faces. I felt trapped in their circle and I knew their goal was to hurt me, first my feelings, which was working, and then physically. It was 3rd grade. We had moved to Alpine, Texas, from South Dakota. My twin bro and I might have been warmly welcomed by many of our classmates. I don't know. We were shy. We didn't communicate well with anyone except each other. Soon many of the boys went out of their way to make us feel like unwelcome outsiders. That's what it felt like. Leif and I were in different classes. I think I had the worse end of things.
Where was Leif, my twin, when that circle of angry, screaming boys surrounded me at recess? I don't know. I do remember turning in circles myself to look for a way out and it was a solid circular wall of jeering faces. Some were throwing arms at me, others darting in to push. I think Joey must have tried to kick me, because his foot ended up in my hands and I had my way out. Joey was a little guy, the smallest boy in 3rd grade. I easily yanked his leg into the air such that his body followed, then I had an ankle in each hand and swung him in a spinning circle, spinning faster and faster, using Joey as a club to knock the others boys down or out of the away. Their circle disintegrated. I opened my hands and Joey left me like a rocket, flying off into the distance before crumbling into a pile. I sped off and the boys gave chase. I was faster. At that age the school's playground and accompanying sports field seemed like an endless tract of real estate on which to escape pursuers.
And so it went for the rest of 3rd grade. Our older brother, Tor, was in 6th grade, Alpine Junior High, home of the Fighting Bucks. He could go home for lunch, and rode his BMX bike past our elementary school everyday during our lunch recess, saw the commotion on the playground. He told our parents it looked like Leif and I were in daily hit and run battles with most of the 3rd grade boys on our heals.
During fourth grade the fights were less frequent. We made some good friends and were normalized. Though less frequent, some of my bloodiest fights were in the fourth grade. Once my teacher spanked me just on the rumor that I had started a fight. It was not true. I cried as she walked me out of the classroom. Benito, one of my greatest tormentors and the most popular kid in school, stood up and started clapping. Many of my classmates followed his example. My teacher must have felt vindicated, like she had truly caught the perp and was doling out just punishment. I really had not been in a fight that day.
By fifth grade there we were in very few fights. One memory: Most of the boys in our grade playing soccer on the big sports field. I was defending our team's goal. Leif was on the far side trying to score a goal. We were on the same team, of course. The biggest dude in our grade, Walker, was on the opposing team. He grabbed Leif and body slammed him into the school yard fence, and went to kicking Leif on the ground. Walker was huge. I can see his chubby, ruddy face breathing heavily, hair flapping back and forth and he kicked and stomped on Leif repeatedly for what seemed an eternity. I was frozen by the sight, unable to move my legs to get across the field and help him. I feel like it was the most violent thing I saw in our elementary school years. I felt the violence of the act inside me. I wanted to vomit. Leif doesn't remember it.
On the last day of 5th grade I found myself in a fight with David, the class nerd, later valid victorian for Alpine High School's Class of 1994. He went into the U.S. Navy, was discharged for being gay during the Don't Ask Don't Tell policy days. I can't recall why we got in a fight. We hung out together quite a bit. At the end of the fight I had him on his back on the ground. I was kneeling over him, his head stuck between my knees, which acted like a vice. I gave him three or four half hearted punches to the face, bloodied his nose, and let him up. David was scrapy. It had taken a lot to get him down and make him give up.
It was David who punched me in the face in 6th grade during recess, giving me a bloody nose. I deserved it completely. I had become a bully, picked him out to place in a head lock, which he spun out of then swung a really well placed and powerful haymaker into my face. I knew I deserved it. I told the principal it was my fault. I don't recall if I got spanked. By this point I had worked my way into the cool crowd. In the hallways between classes my friends said I had to get revenge for the bloody nose, kick David's ass after school. They egged me on. The sense of urgency to maintain my spot in the cool crowd and get revenge overtook that small shred of guilt I had felt for being the bully, that I had deserved David's fist slamming into my nose.
After school I led a crowd of 6th grade boys (youth, juvenile delinquents?) across the street to where David was walking home. After putting a block between us and the school I led the chase. Who was in that group of boys looking to see a fight, to make sure David got cornered before reaching his house so that I could take my shot at revenge? I don't remember. It probably included Benito and Walker. It probably included my good friend, Fred. I hope it did not include my best friend, Casey, who was a decent fellow and a friend of David's. I know the group did not include Leif. We cornered David in an alley where he scampered up a fence. I grabbed his ankle as he pushed himself onto someone's roof, but he kicked free of me.
A circle of boys was circled around the corner of the house, jeering at David, screaming at me to kick his ass. David looked scared, but also had a sparkle in his eyes like he knew he had escaped. A man came out of the house and yelled at us, said he should be ashamed of ourselves. Go home! I'll call your parents and tell them what you did!
I was ashamed. I had come nearly full circle. I saw with ultimately clarity that I had become one and the same as the circle of boys who had surrounded me in 3rd grade. My parents' did not get a phone call. The man didn't know me or them. He didn't have to call them. The experience changed me, a change that has lasted until this day. I had fought so hard to not be bullied, to be a normal kid that was accepted, who didn't stand out like a target. I had fought so hard it earned me a ticket to hang with the cool kids. Nicole, the school crush, even said she would consider dating me, after she was done dating my friend, Fred. (That was another moment that stopped me cold and made me ask what the hell am I doing on this path with this crowd.) As I stood in that alley I realized I had become the bully.
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