Unfortunately, bullying has been around since the days of
Cain and Abel. A recently released movie focuses on the damaging effects of
this sadistic practice. My school district and many others across the nation
are implementing proactive strategies for our students as we continue to deal
with the scourge of harming others. I remember a few bullies as I was going
through my school years and I must confess that my own actions sometimes crossed lines I
am not proud of.
While visiting with a couple of my sisters recently, I
was reminded of the bully that was the bane of my existence one particular
school year. It was my job to drive my younger siblings from our farm in the
country to the grade school in town. From there, some of my siblings and I took a
bus to our high school in another town. The logistics of loading up kids,
books, lunchboxes and assorted Show and Tell projects often goaded me into
becoming a drill sergeant, only too happy to point out the shortcomings of my
passengers as I started the engine of the old beige Dodge and hoped we would
all make it to town on time. My mother always set our clocks to “town time”,
meaning it was set for the time we should arrive at our destination if all went
well. I watched that clock with an urgency not always appreciated by my sibs.
One year, however, I came up against a loud and abusive
bully that made it almost impossible to keep a timely driving schedule. About
two miles from our farm, on a rock-strewn gravel road, there lived a gaggle of
geese. It was clearly evident that this flock of geese had never participated
in the Olweus Bully Prevention program. They were out to get anyone or anything
on two legs or four wheels. One particularly aggressive winged creature was
only too happy to stand in the middle of the gravel road as I approached and
honk in a most raucous manner. And to add insult to injury, the goose would
peck at our car’s front bumper and make our movement forward an intricate and
delicate dance each morning. My attempts at sneaking by without them noticing
us in the first place were always thwarted by the crunching of our tires on the
road’s surface.
One particular day, I had had enough. As I approached the
home of the flock, it was clearly evident that my tormentor was fluffed and
puffed and ready for a show down at OK corral. Something snapped in my brain
and I barked out an order to my siblings. “Hang on. The goose is going down!” I
stepped on the gas and went full throttle forward. I drove right over the goose
as my sibs looked out the back window in horror.
Here is where the story gets a little murky. I felt no thud
or crunch of bones under my tires as I proceeded to roll over the goose. I’m
also quite sure that I saw in my rear view mirror the wings of my feathery
perpetrator flapping away, indicating an alive, albeit, ruffled goose.
What I do know for sure is that my pulse finally returned to
normal when we arrived at our destination on time. My siblings took me
seriously when I told them they needed to behave while I was driving. And, best
of all, I never saw a goose again on that stretch of the road.
No comments:
Post a Comment