Tony: Even Tough Kids Get Bullied

Tony is 14, slightly built and caramel color.  His family is from Puerto Rico.  He stands out amongst his classmates who are predominately white, middle class and unworldly.  In this rural community, diversity is not embraced.  It is barely tolerated.

We are at the football dinner, celebrating the end of a successful season.  The seniors are roasting the underclassmen. One senior gets up and announces, “I know it is a little early but I wanted to be the first one to say to Tony, ‘Happy Father’s Day’.”  The crowd roars, to my horror.  How could anyone find it funny that a 14 year old boy is a father?  How sad to be in the midst of adolescence, trying to figure it out and just when life is complicated enough, you are now a father, at 14.

A few months later, I am in my office, long after school is finished for the day.  All the students are home and I am enjoying the quiet, going through piles of files on my desk.

Tony charges in through the open door, coming to a screeching halt.  He is out of breath, bent over and panting.

“Sorry. Sorry”, he says with some difficulty.

“You OK?”, I ask.

“Yea, yea”.  He straightens up now. I give him a glass of water.

“I just didn’t know where to go, so I ran here. I knew you’d be here”, he tells me.

“What’s the matter?”

“It’s that Jason.  He’s after me again”.

No clarification is needed.  Jason is a bully. Not much bigger that Tony, he is a kid with a quick temper and an intolerance for most people who offer him the slightest opposition of any sort.

“He called me a spic and punched me.  Said I was a dirty PR”.

"Where is he now", I demand.

“No, no, it’s OK.  Let it alone.  I can handle him if I have to.  I just ran away.  I had to”.

The look on my face must have shown my surprise.  I didn’t think Tony would ever walk away from a fight.

“I’m not afraid of him”, Tony continues, “I know I could beat him up if I had to.  But my mom told me if I get in one more fight, I am going to be grounded for two weeks and I have to babysit my daughter on Saturday.  So I can’t mess with him right now.  Know what I mean? I’m not afraid of him”.  But he says this in a tone of some shame.

He caught his breathe and checks to see if Jason is anywhere around.  Deciding that it was safe to venture out again, he leaves just as quickly as he entered.

I go back to my desk and sit down.  I reply the conversation in my head, the absurdity of it all bounces around like clashing cymbals.