Print PDF
Favorite
Email
Step 10Clean Your Funnel. Guard Your Face.
Your funnel has sand in it.
Clean it well.
So how did that fight with the crippled kid go? Well, it was senior year of high school. I'd seen a lot of American movies. Some of them about high school. There were always fights. I'd never been in one, and I was starting to feel like I might not have the American Experience.
But fights weren't common. I went to school with some really nice people.
How nice were they? This kid with polio was on the football team. Pause to consider that.
Other schools had pariahs. My school loved pariahs so much they stopped being pariahs.
We had something called "pep-fests" that were supposed to make us interested in sports.
Classes were cancelled prior to a "Big Game" and we all filed into the gym to see skits put on by cheerleaders, coaches, and players. But they invariably turned into into pariah-cheering fests.
When the most insecure student walked in, the crowd went nuts, cheering and begging them to do whatever odd stunt they were known for. The next day they were sincerely congratulated in the halls for whatever they'd done next, maybe nothing. After a few weeks of this sort of adulation they weren't the most insecure kid anymore, and whoever was most mentally ill/insecure got the treatment. We used up all our pariahs that way and they turned into normal well adjusted successful people. Which at the time didn't seem like such a good thing to me. I felt like I was surrounded by way too much normal already.
Anyway, after speech class the crippled kid walked up to me in that laborious arm-waving way he had because his legs work right. He said I'd been way to harsh on him and of course I must have understood what his speech was about, so why was I out to get him? If I did any more of that he was going to kick my ass.
I didn't know then that diplomacy has limited use for the truth. So I protested that I really hadn't understood his speech, and that I didn't understand it now. That made him even madder, and he promised he would attack me. I saw that this was probably my opportunity to be in a real fight, and told him to go ahead. He said he would. That repeated several times.
By then I was totally nervous and jittery because I can't stand confrontations.
That's why I was never in any fights.
I'd interviewed other students who'd been in actual fights to find out how they'd done it.
First there's the yelling, then the pushing, then the punching.
Yelling and pushing creeps me out. Normal people won't try to hit you unless you do some of that first. If someone is trying to hit you without some yelling and pushing first, it's probably happening when you're not in the mood for it or aren't in a situation to do much about it.
But I had no trouble in karate classes, so I was pretty sure I was really tough.
The kid gimped over to a girl who was walking by. He handed her his watch. Then he rolled up his sleeves and gimped back. He was saying a bunch more stuff which I don't remember, because next he hit me in the left cheekbone really hard. My brain and half my vision turned into a crumpled sheet of tinfoil. I smelled blood in my nose. I was amazed. A fight was nothing at all like karate class. I was totally jittery and had no idea how or when to guard my face. He gimped back to the girl, got his watch and gimped off down the hall. All that crazy walking had made his arms really strong.
The girl grabbed me to keep me from falling over and helped me get to my next class.
No one ever teased me about it, because as I said, they were really nice people.
But that's the story of how I got beat up by a kid with polio.
Clean it well.
So how did that fight with the crippled kid go? Well, it was senior year of high school. I'd seen a lot of American movies. Some of them about high school. There were always fights. I'd never been in one, and I was starting to feel like I might not have the American Experience.
But fights weren't common. I went to school with some really nice people.
How nice were they? This kid with polio was on the football team. Pause to consider that.
Other schools had pariahs. My school loved pariahs so much they stopped being pariahs.
We had something called "pep-fests" that were supposed to make us interested in sports.
Classes were cancelled prior to a "Big Game" and we all filed into the gym to see skits put on by cheerleaders, coaches, and players. But they invariably turned into into pariah-cheering fests.
When the most insecure student walked in, the crowd went nuts, cheering and begging them to do whatever odd stunt they were known for. The next day they were sincerely congratulated in the halls for whatever they'd done next, maybe nothing. After a few weeks of this sort of adulation they weren't the most insecure kid anymore, and whoever was most mentally ill/insecure got the treatment. We used up all our pariahs that way and they turned into normal well adjusted successful people. Which at the time didn't seem like such a good thing to me. I felt like I was surrounded by way too much normal already.
Anyway, after speech class the crippled kid walked up to me in that laborious arm-waving way he had because his legs work right. He said I'd been way to harsh on him and of course I must have understood what his speech was about, so why was I out to get him? If I did any more of that he was going to kick my ass.
I didn't know then that diplomacy has limited use for the truth. So I protested that I really hadn't understood his speech, and that I didn't understand it now. That made him even madder, and he promised he would attack me. I saw that this was probably my opportunity to be in a real fight, and told him to go ahead. He said he would. That repeated several times.
By then I was totally nervous and jittery because I can't stand confrontations.
That's why I was never in any fights.
I'd interviewed other students who'd been in actual fights to find out how they'd done it.
First there's the yelling, then the pushing, then the punching.
Yelling and pushing creeps me out. Normal people won't try to hit you unless you do some of that first. If someone is trying to hit you without some yelling and pushing first, it's probably happening when you're not in the mood for it or aren't in a situation to do much about it.
But I had no trouble in karate classes, so I was pretty sure I was really tough.
The kid gimped over to a girl who was walking by. He handed her his watch. Then he rolled up his sleeves and gimped back. He was saying a bunch more stuff which I don't remember, because next he hit me in the left cheekbone really hard. My brain and half my vision turned into a crumpled sheet of tinfoil. I smelled blood in my nose. I was amazed. A fight was nothing at all like karate class. I was totally jittery and had no idea how or when to guard my face. He gimped back to the girl, got his watch and gimped off down the hall. All that crazy walking had made his arms really strong.
The girl grabbed me to keep me from falling over and helped me get to my next class.
No one ever teased me about it, because as I said, they were really nice people.
But that's the story of how I got beat up by a kid with polio.
| « Previous Step | Download PDFView All Steps | Next Step » |
 |
Add Comment
|
