Sometimes people send me stories and have a lot to say in them. Sometimes, I get a very simple story with few words. Many times, the few words can say more than the longer stories. There is something in this one I felt that way with. I like how “A” was plain and simple and to the point, particularly the last paragraph. ~Alan Eisenberg
In 1964 I was in the 7th grade and was bullied and beaten by three classmates in a Catholic School in Brooklyn NY. At 5’10” and skinny -I stood out from the other girls. Note, I was not friends with any of the girls and had no words with them.
Two of the girls set up the third to challenge me by hitting me. The two stood and watched as the third Girl (a doctor’s daughter proceeded to beat me up) . When the two girls saw I was thrashing her they proceeded to stomp on my feet.
Quite frankly, I defended myself rather well, as the Doctor’s daughter never returned to the school . The two girls were hoods and the doctors daughter was taken out of the school because of her association with them.
I returned to school the next day holding my head up high. The nuns said nothing. By the way one of the hoods smacked me in the face in front of the Church later on in the term. I did not defend myself that day. She was a hood.