My Last Fight – Story 2

Writing about running into my 6th grade teacher in an education class did drum up some memories as to why she may have had the impression of me that she did. 

As long as I can remember I was a bit of a terror, one main reason being that I was often picked on because of my size which I made up for by not fighting by the rules,  In other words, I bit, scratched, kicked, or whatever it took.  I may not have won them all, but I sure made that person think about picking a second fight.  My problem was that although I never picked a fight, I never learned to walk away from one.

One such instance was in 7th or 8th grade when I accepted a challenge to meet after school and down the street a bit. The two of us were really having at it drawing a rather large crowd around us.  The crowd, of course, attracted a couple of police officers in their squad car.  They quickly separated us and asked the crowd to disperse; then, went on their way.  We all watched until they turned right at the next corner and went out of sight.    Then, my opponent looked at me as I looked at him.  We shrugged and willingly went at each other again, but unbeknownst to us, the police had simply circled the block.  The next thing I knew we were both in the back of the squad car and headed the few blocks to the police station; and, an appointment with the Juvenile Officer.  Now, let me tell you, this officer was the spittin’ image of Jack Web who starred in the famous Dragnet television series; and, I mean the spittin’ image; not a person to tinker with.

I recall sitting in front of his desk as he twirled the cylinder of a revolver while talking with me.  Now, I have no idea of what I said, but do know it was certainly not the thing to say, because he suddenly stopped the spinnin’ and  leveled that pistol slightly above my eyes to my forehead, cocking it in the process as he said:  “Son, I better never ever see you in this office again.” 

Although my mind goes completely blank to this day as to what followed, I’m sure I left with soiled pants.   I do remember as well when I was on my bicycle going face to face with him as he was walking towards our local card parlor.  Let me tell you, I did a 90 degree turn crossing the street through heavy traffic just to get out of his way.  Furthermore, I recall getting stopped for loud pipes on my car when I was sixteen.  I distinctly remember telling the officer that he could do whatever he wanted to me if he wouldn’t make me face that Juvi officer.

Yep, looking back, I’m sure my dad was in on it all as we lived in a small town.  I do know my fighting days came to an end although I was given an option shortly after to attend the Catholic High School or reform school….. and, that is another story.

Now, the reason I tell this story is not to suggest aiming a weapon, but some youngsters such as myself need a come-upin.  I guess the trick as a teacher is to figure out which one as well as when and where.   I do know I would say to my classes that I never laid a hand on a person I didn’t like; that what you needed to worry about was that if you were mis-behavin’ and I didn’t lay a hand on you.  That meant I was going to get you by the book where everyone would have a hand in making your life miserable.

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