I usually just lurk around the more interesting debates, but I feel a pretty close connection to this topic so I might as well throw in my two cents.
My mom always taught me that fighting was wrong and uncivilized, while my dad gave me the much popular “Don’t hit first but always hit last” routine. But starting early in grade school, I was always very introverted and meek, and of course I became the perfect target for bullies, someone they could lord over and who was an easy pushover. But since I didn’t know better, and have always been tall and skinny, fighting back never seemed to be much of an option for me. Sometime early on in third grade my teachers picked up on my passivity and talked to my parents about it, and my mom even swayed to the side of sticking up for myself. I never thought I had any chance of winning a fight, but my dad was a wrestler all through high school and college, and he taught me how the ground can be a powerful equalizer. Pretty quick after that I ended up fighting the bullies that routinely picked on me, and while I didn’t win outright, I showed them that I was willing to stick up for myself if pushed to it and they promptly moved on to other more manageable kids. Problem solved, right?
Nope. The problem with getting a reputation as a person who will always fight if pushed far enough means that every bully who has an axe to grind will start searching you out. And in the early grades, the bullies have a nasty habit of being only one year older, but a whole lot bigger. Before much longer, I was fighting more and more often. While my grade school was a smallish school, and none of the fights ended with anything too bloody, the teachers and my parents always kinda saw that the bullies got what was coming to them, and I was just sticking up for myself. Being a teachers pet probably helped me on that front, and hurt me with the bullies. Middle school changed all of that. After two fights within the first month, I was labeled as a troublemaker and warned that any more fights would get me a month of suspension or possible expulsion. The problem was coming from the fact that after all the fights I had been through in grade school, now I was starting to kinda like to fight. In fact, I would say I enjoyed it a lot. The smallest thing would push my buttons now, and I would go out looking for people I didn’t like to see if they might just say something to set me off.
Ok then; back to grade school, and taking all the abuse that anyone could dish out. Only now, I had made so many enemies that all I got was near constant abuse. To top it off, people knew that I was banned from fighting anymore with a threat of expulsion. There was nothing to risk by harassing me. Back to square one, only now, I’m on the bad side of administration, so any complaints by me are waved off.
It began to reach a point where I seemed to have a group of hecklers follow me around almost everywhere I went. Mostly old bullies who came back to belittle me again, to make up for whatever face they had lost when we fought. It went on like that for over two years, until it reached its most fevered pitch right before the spring of my freshman year. I was still very tall and thin for that age (6’1" and 130 pounds) and by then most of the cliques in high school had formed, and unfortunately, one of them was composed of almost all of my old enemies, and they had taken quite a liking to harassing me as often as they could now. I’m not sure exactly when it was, but it had to be right before spring tryouts began for baseball, because me and a friend were playing catch at a park down the street from my school. I mouthed off something to the whole crew of them, and the biggest bully came over the fence to try and rattle my cage some more. I don’t know exactly what I was thinking, but I think that a combination of pent-up rage and that feeling of being bullied non-stop again got to me, and as he walked up to me my blood just boiled, and as soon as he got within my reach, without warning, I decked him with a baseball I was holding in my hand. I have still never seen anyone drop so fast in my life. But the strange part was that I wasn’t happy with just having stopped him, so I jumped on top of his chest and started to pound away at his face with the baseball some more. I don’t know exactly what came over me, but I guess that it was a lot like people describe road rage. I saw what I was doing, but I couldn’t have stopped it even if I had wanted to. Finally both his friends and mine dragged us apart and when I saw him all beaten up and crying, I felt worse than I ever could have imagined. Not the vindication I expected when I first had the idea. Needless to say, after that I had a reputation as a psycho who might just kill you if you pissed me off enough, and almost every trace of bullying disappeared from my life.
Since then (ten years ago), I have only been in a couple other fights, and always on someone else’s behalf. I don’t think the solution to bullies is to teach kids how to fight, I personally think that you have to teach parents how to make sure they don’t raise a bully. Because there are always bigger, stronger and meaner bullies who will see you as a challenge to be broken and the more you beat, the stronger they get and the larger their gang becomes.