…but probably wouldn’t have. My mind, even back in Jr. High, isn’t put together that way.
I would have had an air-tight alibi, and there might have been few “missing, presumed dead”…
I too was taught “violence never solves anything” and “never, ever fight” by my mother. Dad disagreed, but remained silent in the name of domestic tranquility.
So I got my ass kicked on a weekly basis and horribly ridiculed on a daily for most of my Jr. High years.
Being smart bullies, they never went for face shots; that leaves readily seen evidence. It was only chance that my mom saw the bruises on my torso, and called the school to complain.
The administration’s response was about as strong as lukewarm watered-down oatmeal, and got the beatings upped to a twice- or three-times-a-week ordeal. I kept silent for fear that my mom would complain again, and that I would be hospitalized or killed by these thugs.
This was also about the time that my Dad briefly locked away all of his guns. He started to tell me how to defend myself, and was going to enroll me in Karate, but a screaming hissy-fit by my pacifist mother nixed that.
What changed? My brother-in-law, an Army E-7, showed me some stuff on the sly while home on leave, and told me some things about violence, and it’s proper application, and a few tidbits about tender portions of the human anatomy guaranteed to slow down or disable an attacker. He also mentioned some stuff about ambush tactics and guerilla warfare, and how it might apply on a personal level.
That may not have been enough in and of itself, but next year, in our freshman year at HS, the “Bully Club” went to various different classes. Kicking one person’s ass at a time is a lot simpler than 5 or 6 at a time. I took my lumps, too, but it never came to the attention of the administration.
Locker room stuff. After school stuff. You know. “Kids will be kids” and all that.
But they got the message and left me alone.
And I became a firm believer in the morality of violence applied in defense of oneself, or another.
There is, IMHO, no crueler creature on this planet than kids. They make Nazis look kind and sympathetic in comparison.
I don’t advocate that every kid that’s being picked on to lash out violently, especially not in a mass-violence form.
But a few busted kneecaps, cracked tibias and humeri, and a single bullet (sans fingerprints) left in their shirtpocket whilst they lay about screaming in pain, and the thug crews will get the message.
And the baseball bat was for P.E. Class. Honest.
A Nation of Cowards
Andy William’s is a coward, IMHO. But he’s also a victim, one I can empathize with even if I don’t condone his actions.
A victim of bullies and tormentors; of years of denigration and physical abuse; of a system that turned a blind eye and let it go by; of a society so scared of confrontation, so morally weak as to allow themselves to be intimidated into docility that the only form of expression William’s felt he could rely upon to receive attention was uncontrollable rage and random violence.
Blame it on the guns? Cartoons? Video Games? Rap Music?
Sure, why not. Blame 'em all and a few I didn’t even mention.
That avoids the issue and allows the teachers, principals and parents to look themselves in the eye in the mirror every morning, so supremely confident in their non-violence that they are truly stunned when another kid checks out, or worse, flips out, loads up and goes hunting in the halls of education.
Mom and I don’t talk about violence; she has made her disappointment in me clear. Not that I lose any sleep over it.
And my children will not live in fear of bullies. Ever.