When I look back to my school days a lot of really sweet memories are shadowed by the way some of my classmates looked upon me and treated me. I understand now the reason for that I was very different. Being of Slovenian origin, I could feel with my skin how annoying I must have been for them. My group consisted mainly of ordinary kids, concentrating on studies or on their social life. However, there was a guy with a stupid name Huck, who would always behave arrogantly and harshly especially to those who were less popular than him. He was quite handsome with bright blue eyes and blond curly hair. Once he asked if my clothes were my mothers or grandmothers. He asked this when all the other pupils were in the classroom and most of them burst out laughing.
They also probably disliked my accent. Another thing that most certainly irritated them is that I was sometimes late for classes. This happened because I always had to walk to school and could sometimes get distracted on the way. I liked watching the clouds flow, helping some termites build their formicary or daydreaming about some book characters like Captain Blade or Three Musketeers. When I tried to explain some of this to the teacher asking for the reason of being late, Huck and his minions would sprinkle with laughter and play the ape trying to copy my intonation and voice. I always tried not to take much notice of it. My Mom and Granny always told me that I was special no matter what and their unconditioned love and support served me as a kind of a bulletproof shield.
That day I was coming back from the big break that I would spend outdoors around the corner watching birds and eating the bread-and butter sandwich that my Mom would make for me. As I was passing past the cloakroom I remembered that I left some notes I might need during the class in the pocket of my coat. When I was ready to leave the cloakroom with the notes, I suddenly heard Hucks voice getting closer. Instinctively, I hid behind the far rack with younger pupils outerwear. He was not alone, about five or six other boys and girls were with him. I heard him excitedly talking about some great plan of his. The minions were impatiently giggling. Huck quickly found the way to the rack he wanted and, smirking wickedly, showed his friends my old-fashioned turquoise wind-breaker. Huck said something about wanting to do it all his life. He unhooked the jacket from the rack, threw it to the floor and started to jump on it with his dirty boots. His friends started to laugh and joined him. They were jumping on the jacket with primitive tribal screams and hooting as if it was some kind of a ritual dance performed to appease ancient and cruel gods. Suddenly Huck stopped jumping and looked at one of his friends in surprise as he saw that the girl was not participating in the act. I recognized her. Her name was Rachel and she made an impression of a sensible and good-natured girl despite being popular. Come on, - he said to her. Jump with us! Its fun. She replied that she was not in the mood and said that that was not the thing she considered funny. Huck shrugged his shoulders and looked at her with overt despise. All of his stupid minions started to hiss, hoot and giggle. Come on! Dont pretend to be a princess!- they shouted. I suddenly became aware that it was my jacket they were ruining. A huge wave of offense and anger rose in my heart and I was no longer afraid of this handsome boy in burgundy Doc Martins stepping on my jacket with such a fanatic ferocity as if he was not just trampling a girls jacket but trying to get the evil out of it.
Suddenly I knew what I should do. I went out of my far corner and confronted Huck openly. I was so furious that I scratched his cheek and it bled. He was laughing at first but when he saw his own blood, his mouth twisted in hatred, he hissed Crazy bitch and ran out of there. I was even a little sorry for him. I did not feel a winner, though. It was against my beliefs to hurt anybody and my jacket was ruined. Nevertheless I was surprised to see how Rachel looked at me after Huck ran away and his minions left the cloakroom too still giggling nervously. There was some undisguised admiration in her eyes. That was the day I made my first friend. I was no longer the person who does not need anybody else, making effort to pretend that bulling does not bother me. That was the real victory.
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Being Bullied At School. (2019, Oct 16). Retrieved from https://speedypaper.com/essays/being-bullied-at-school
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