Standing up for the underdog

Kids can do it without fighting.

Originally published in the Moultrie News.

There’s a boy at my son’s school who gets picked on. The school is aware, but it happens before school, recess, etc., where they can’t see it. My son notices it and wants to stand up for the boy, but he’s afraid it may result in a fight. How can I help him while discouraging fighting?

You and your son are on the right track. Students, especially older ones, have a responsibility to stick up for the underdog, but that doesn’t have to mean violence. I learned what it does entail when something similar happened to me.

It was my senior year. My friends and I would hang around outside after lunch (high schoolers never refer to such free time as “recess”). One day, a new kid — a freshman we’ll call Herb — started joining us. Presumably, he recognized us from band class. He had recently moved to Mount Pleasant and still wore his old high school’s green and gold jacket, the same colors as our arch-rivals.

If those things weren’t enough to get him picked on, he also was socially awkward, wore sad man-glasses, and parted his hair in an unfashionable wilt (not at all like the wings of a glorious eagle, like me).

I can’t say we enthusiastically welcomed him into our circle. We just let him hang close by. He rarely spoke, so it wasn’t worth the effort to shoo him away.

One afternoon, a group of dudes tossed an apple in Herb’s direction, hitting him in the chest. They erupted in laughter. Herb hung his head low. In that moment, I felt his sadness. The weight he had been carrying — heckled, transplanted and friendless — was exposed. I suddenly felt a righteous indignation toward the apple tosser.

I strode over to the dudes. “Hey!” I said. “One of you just hit my friend with an apple.”

I was immediately doused in my own stupidity. What was I doing? These were tough guys, and I was no fighter. One stood up and burst into my personal space. “What are you going to do about it?” he said, then shoved me with his fingertips.

You wouldn’t know this if you’re not a teacher, but approximately 45 percent of students are born with a “Fight Radar”— an internal alarm that sounds whenever a brawl is about to happen. A hush fell over the kids around us. The air grew still. My knees started knocking.

I wanted to run away screaming, but I was too dumb, too proud, or both. I shoved the dude back and said, “I think you should apologize.” The crowd’s silence crescendoed to a low “Oooooh.” A flame ignited in my adversary’s pupils. It was on.

He pulled back his fist and swung. I flinched, and he missed me — a miracle! I made a ball with my hand and limply thrust it forward. He ducked it easily. He cocked another fist, and I started reciting the Serenity prayer.

Then, deus ex machina-style, a senior built like a brick port-o-potty pushed through the crowd and stepped between us. “Knock it off,” he said. “There’s no reason to fight.” Thanks to him, I am alive to tell you this story today.

The apple-tosser and I returned to our circles. The crowd, disappointed there would not be blood, dispersed. My friends laughed at my brazen foolishness. I deserved it, but I was annoyed at Herb. I came to his rescue; he should have come to mine.

My annoyance vanished when he spoke. He looked at me and said, “Thank you. Nobody ever called me their friend before.”

As sad as that sounded, I knew it was true. A melee and a murder had almost occurred, but for Herb, a single word cut through: friend. It overshadowed everything else, including the bullying. It didn’t undo the apple toss, but it made it a lot less important.

I was dumb to get into a fight that day. To stand up for the underdog, all I needed to do was widen my circle by one. Friendship, not violence, was the proper antidote.

And maybe that’s the secret for your son. Fighting for a stranger can be helpful, but comforting a friend may do even more.

Read the original column here.