I remember the day as clear as glass. I was in 6th grade and my teacher had just announced it was a class break, a time we were allowed to eat snacks and move around the classroom. But on that day, I reached a breaking point.
My friend sat across from me. Two classmates who were attention seekers were making fun of him again. They did something mean to him every day: stealing his school supplies, calling his sister ugly, or laughing at his big head. On this day, they were singing a song about him, "Chicken, chicken Josh." They sang endlessly and cruelly. Those words were like a bite of hot pepper to my friend, who turned red with anger and embarrassment, while tears of frustration dropped from his eyes. I could see how hopeless he felt.
Normally, I would just sit and watch it all. I was very shy. I rarely spoke during breaks or raised my hand in class. I was so shy, in fact, that my teacher made me a chart to tick every time I raised my hand. She said I'd receive a prize if I filled it up. But I never did. It didn't help with my shyness; it just made me more self-conscious. But on this particular day, I took a stand. I'd had enough. I stood up and shouted, "Leave him alone!" Silence broke out, all eyes in the room fell on me. But the silence was short-lived as everyone went back to enjoying their break. For the rest of the day, every time the bullies would laugh at my friend during class, I would scream, "Stop troubling him," or, "It wouldn't hurt to be nice."
But these words didn't help. In fact, it made the situation worse: I too became a victim. From that afternoon on, the two bullies began to make up songs about me. They chanted, pronouncing my name in a different dialect to show I was different from them. This mocking and disrespect upset me a lot. I felt helpless.
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A few weeks later, I spoke to my teacher after class.
……
One day, my teacher finally said, "David, I think it's time to get the principal involved."
