I’ve had a lot of bad experiences at school when I was little, but I remember most of the time I got in trouble at school for fighting. My teacher sent a note home in my backpack and my mom seemed to pay it no attention that day. It all started when the biggest boy in my class pushed me down at recess.
I already didn’t like him because he beat my best friend up when were walking home one day, so I knew as soon as he messed with me I was going to fight him no matter who was around. I was only three feet; eight inches, and kind of frail, and he was four feet; five inches tall. He had the upper hand, but back then I went with my first mind and nothing could change it.
That day started off ordinary: I got dressed, ate breakfast, and walked to school. My house was only five minutes away from my school, and my neighborhood was huge. I entered the first grade hallway with my backpack that seemed to swallow me. Just before I walked in the classroom I saw the bully and his friends mean mugging me from a distance. He seemed to stand over them because they too were small.
I paid them no attention and just went to class. The teacher let us color for a while, then we had to go over our abc’s. Later we had snack time and everyone was talking about something I overheard. I didn’t hear the boy exactly, but I did hear beat up, and recess. I was guessing our class bully was going to beat someone up, but I didn’t know who.

We had nap time and my best friend came and sat by me. He told me that I was supposed to get in a fight today, and everyone was talking about it. Recess came fast after that, and I was nervous. Normally no one wanted to go because our playground was basic; it had a sandbox, some slides, swings, and a basketball court. Considering a fight was about to happen, the people who knew were eager to go.

Then out of nowhere someone pushed me and I swung backwards hard. It was the bully! I’d never noticed how big and chubby he actually was until I actually got close. “Get off of me,” I screamed. He didn’t care; he just wanted to fight, so I picked up some sand from the sandbox and threw it at him, hoping it would get in his eyes. I then tackled him, and then the teacher pulled us apart. The teacher wrote notes to our parents, but didn’t suspend me because it was my first time getting in trouble that year.
When I got home I went to the restroom and cleaned myself up, when my mom came to the door and told me, “I’m going to whoop your butt when you come out,” so like a typical six year old I started crying.
When I came out everyone yelled, “Happy birthday!” Then they laughed because I thought I was in trouble. I got a new bike, necklace, and a whole bunch of toys.
This experience taught me that I shouldn’t get in trouble if I don’t want to face the consequences. Now I think before I act, because I normally let my ego get the best of me. I now know a lot of conflicts can be avoided and it normally takes two people to start a conflict. I also know I can tell someone if I’m about to do something wrong and I need help.