Someday he was really late for the session, and because then we didn’t have cell phones so common as today, I had no means to call him and ask where he was.
He was one hour late already, so I decided leave home. But as soon as I stepped through the door, he was there with a black eye, and with his uniform everywhere.
I was shocked to see him like that, and also worried about what might have happened. When I asked him, you can easily guess his answer, especially due to our topic here. However, the situation was serious, almost like a real crime.
A few boys from the neighborhood, where my student’s school was, had beaten him to get his money. Boys were around 17 years old, and my student was 13. He wasn’t of a wealthy family, and his mother had come to me to ask for help for his English class, because if he failed once again, he would be kicked out of the school where English was one of the essential among the curriculum.
His mother had found me herself, and the idea of private lessons was hers, without the knowledge of her husband, who was the real father of the boy by the way. (Now, take notice for this detail because it’s important, and you’ll understand if you keep reading.)
When he told me about this, he didn’t ask me for help against the boys to take his money back or something, but he just told me that he wouldn’t be able to pay me for the session, and asked me to explain the situation to his mother, whom he thought would be very angry most probably.
Now, I might have thought he was after something else more “sinister,” like keeping session money he got from his mother to himself or anything. But he wasn’t such a boy, and the black eye was a proof strong enough. So I chose to make him show me those elder boys, which he did.
From this point, I will tell all what happened in full details, because actually these are all important when it comes to the manners and psychology of bullying guys.
We went to the same alley he was attacked, and sure enough, the boys were still there. Three of them, still in their school uniforms, and their bags with them. It was a tragicomic scene actually. Three school boys trying to play street games. I watched them from afar to see who the leader was, and when I picked him, I told my student to wait there and walked directly to them.
Now, there’s something that should be understand. Before I leave home with my student, I changed my clothes, and wore leathers and jeans. If I went them with jacket and tie manner, they would simply laugh at me, try to get rid of me somehow; but with my appearance and manners, it was completely another story. They were trying to act like a street gang, and I was there as someone who looked like a real gangster.
And the first thing about streetwise boys – especially whom think themselves as streetwise – is to treat them respecting the code, which means strength and sway; you know what I mean, right? I would make them taste their own potion.
He was really around 17 or 18 years old, and he was the king of the world in his own mind. (No, of course it was just a show, because mostly – almost without exception – with such boys comes a very low self-esteem in fact.)
I approached to him, and with a theatrical manner, I turned back to nod my student who was waiting far back at the entrance of the alley. Then I extended my open arm, and I gestured him to give the money back with a quick motion.
“Who the f..k are you, his brother?” he asked aggressively, but I noticed he was paled quite visibly. But in front of others, he chose to stand his ground.
“No,” I said. “But I wonder why you took his money.”
“It’s none of your business, go away,” he responded.
I kept looking at his eyes directly in a cold manner, and perfectly silent. I made him understand I wouldn’t leave without taking the money back.
At that point, spite of my elder age, he noticed – the first time I guess – that I was actually very shorter than him, so he looked down upon me. “I took his money, because I could,” he said. “What are you gonna do about it?”
It was funny actually, because while he said all these words, he was swallowing hard, and looking at his friends as if he wanted to be sure they were still with him. He was about to piss himself, and I was giving him a good lesson while I was having fun.
“Then you will give me the money, because I can kick your ass,” I said, having a look at the others as well. “All the three of you.”
Well, no need to tell the rest I think, because you can easily guess what happened afterwards, give or take. I took all the money they have, called my student to get closer, asked him how much he gave them, took it, and threw the rest of the money to be collected by the so-called “gang.”
At the other hand, how did I know so well about the bullying boys? Well, I did, because I was one of them once. Because when you fell as a victim of bullying boys, especially as a boy who is a bully magnet like me, you have two options: either you become victimized and get scarred for the rest of your life, or you become one of them to be able to survive, and get scarred for the rest of your life.
However, I was one of those luckiest ones who can find the third option to heal back with help and share the experience to… well, show the light?
More articles about this important topic:
THIS IS VERY PROFESSIONAL!
More tidbits coming in future articles, meant to spur you on to create momentous moments!
And Follow us!