We are the products of our genetics and experience.
Sometimes a negative experience can help shape us too! One incident from when I was a young boy (thirteen/fourteen-years-old,) still haunts me today. Bullying and violence are things I detest and, when I became a teacher I set about dealing with it.
Excerpt – A passion for Education – The story of a Headteacher
Chapter 8 – Relationships
For me the philosophy I applied during my tenure as a Headteacher came right out of my experience as a student. There were lessons to be learnt from how I was treated and taught as a child and youth and the things I had witnessed.
Simon was in my class at school. He lived in a council house on the estate but Simon put on airs and graces. He and his family had pretensions.
Simon, who in my memory was the spitting image of Rimmer in Red Dwarf, always came to school immaculately groomed, his crinkly fair hair brylcreamed into place. He had a supercilious attitude that got up people’s nose. He adopted a sophisticated voice that sounded a bit put on.
Simon, like Rimmer, annoyed people and became the focus of bullying.
Every class has a pecking order. Boys vie for position by being hard, showing off, cracking jokes, developing attitude, being athletic, being violent, being big and tough. It is very primitive.
Simon was considered soft, puny, annoying and a pretentious pain in the arse. He had few, if any, redeeming faults.
Simon was rooted to the bottom of the pecking order.
This was good news for all those swimming in the benthos of the Form’s lower levels. The heat was off them. They could keep their heads down and let Simon take the brunt.
Simon was laughed at, pushed around and abused. He was the butt of nasty quips and put-downs. It seemed as if no-one in authority cared a jot about this. Boys will be boys. Fighting was normal. Simon got picked on; Simon got in fights – so what?
One day word got round that one of the hardos in the year was going to have a fight with Simon and flatten him. This was all going to kick off after school on the top playing field.
It was all very electrifying. The whole school was in a state of extreme excitement. There was a touch of mass hysteria.
The only person who amazingly had got no inkling of what was planned was Simon. He remained oblivious. To this day I cannot conceive how he could have remained so unaware of what was kicking off. It seemed to be the only topic of conversation around the school. Simon must have gone through the day in a complete bubble.
Simon always walked home through the back entrance, on a path past the adjoining junior school on the right with our school playing fields on the left.
When the bell went the whole school rushed out to gather on the top field to wait for the main event. There were literally hundreds of us.
Simon rambled off home in a dream.
There was a short cut-through to the field and it was only then that Simon must have got a sense that something was up. He must have heard the crowd gathered on the other side of the cut-through and somehow realised it was to do with him. He turned round and tried to dodge back into school to avoid them.
Unfortunately for Simon this eventuality had been foreseen and arrangements made. The path was blocked by four sneering sidekicks and Simon was pushed and herded down the cut-through out into the open field the other side.
A great roar went up when he appeared and everyone surged round like a pack of excited dogs.
Soon there was a circle in the centre of which was the hard kid and Simon. Simon tried to bolt through the crowd and escape but they pushed him back. There were far too many people for that. They were too densely packed.
There was a great roar of excitement, with chanting and jeers.
The struggle seemed to go right out of Simon as if, realising there was no possible escape; he resigned himself to his fate. He turned round to face the other lad and stood there limply with his hands down by his side.
The other lad was grinning at him with his fists up.
‘Come on then you faggot,’ he gestured, playing to the crowd.
He stepped forward and punched Simon in the face.
A great roar went up. They must have heard it in the school.
Simon stood there and looked back dolefully so the lad hit him again. Blood trickled from Simon’s nose but he just stood there.
The lad goaded him and pushed him but got no response.
Someone shoved Simon forward into the boy. They wanted action. The crowd were shouting at Simon to fight back.
The lad hit Simon hard but still there was no response. He shoved him and hit him again.
Simon just stood there defencelessly and took it. He stared straight at the kid with his arms dangling and did nothing.
This was not quite the fight we had been expecting and it certainly wasn’t what the lad wanted. He’d wanted to provoke a fight, knock a flailing Simon around a bit, floor him and walk off a hero.
This was not quite going to plan.
Simon had blood dipping from his nose and mouth and still just stood there. It was evident that there was no white knight from the school who was going to charge to his rescue. There was no help to be had.
The crowd had quietened down and become a bit apprehensive.
The kid sensed his moment of glory was passing and decided to get it over with quickly.
He stepped forward and started whacking Simon in the face as hard as he could with a flurry of blows. He wanted Simon to go down so that he could walk away the victor and still retain a little of that glory.
However this didn’t work out either.
Simon refused to go down. The punches smacked into his face and he reeled and jerked but remained standing defiantly facing the lad and took those blows.
The crowd had changed. This wasn’t the exciting spectacle they’d been expecting. It was nasty. It was getting revolting and everyone wanted it to stop.
Some called out for Simon to fight back. Some called out for the lad to stop. Some instructed Simon to go down.
The lad desperately tried to knock Simon down. He threw everything at him. He was getting frantic now as he could sense the sympathy of the crowd had turned. He had no exit strategy.
Simon’s face was rapidly becoming a swollen, bloody, bruised mess and still the punches thudded in and still Simon neither fought back nor went down.
There was something really sickening about it by now. It was making everyone ashamed to be there witnessing it.
It is incredible how quickly the mood of a crowd can change. The lad felt it. There was no glory to be had here. It made him feel cheated and angry.
He tried a couple more shots and then stood back, a little confused, raising his fists and declaring himself the winner while Simon stood there swaying with his swollen wrecked face streaming with blood, tears and snot.
That’s all I remember except to this day I am utterly ashamed that I got caught up in it and went along, all excited like everyone else, to see Simon get beat up. Not one of us told a teacher. Not one of us warned Simon. Not one of us tried to stop it.
That’s human beings for you.
We can be so cruel and heartless.