Ike Paid: A Short Story

Remember when you were a child, in the typical playground scenario, were you the bully, the victim, or the bystander?

It was just a big misunderstanding. The teasing had been going on for months, but you tried to hold in your anger as best as possible. When they decided to come up to you again, you were already having a bad day. It felt like you were a ticking time bomb about to explode and each word they said to you was making the timer count down faster. Once you finally blew up, you lost control of yourself because the anger was clouding your mind. It wasn’t all your fault, but all the blame was put on you and the others got away with it. A substantial amount of schools have been using the practice of suspension to punish the student who has misbehaved or violated the schools rules. Suspension hasn’t been showing much positive outcomes on the students who got it. Although some cases are that students are threatening deadly outcomes with their behavior, all the others are simples complications that can be dealt with peacefully and if held correctly, the problem won’t come up again. If schools are quick to suspend anyone even if it’s a small infraction, they are most likely to drop out of school, keep

I don’t regularly get in trouble, but when I do I get grounded and sometimes even worse. There was one time when I got in trouble for using profane language in front of a teacher. I got lunch detention and had to turn in a note to my mom which said, “Marco was displaying harsh words which is an infraction to our school policy and has three days of lunch detention.” I seriously thought it was bull S*** because I was exercising my right of freedom of speech. Unfortunately, that doesn’t apply in school. Anyways, I didn’t care about the lunch detention but I was scared of my mom because she is crazy and would not accolade of my foul language. I got home and tried to hide the note in my room but it didn’t realize that she started cleaning after

My mother’s irate words echoed deep in my heart for years as I tried to understand the simple words she would constantly repeat to me, “When will you ever change?” As a child, I was well known for being that foolish kid who would be put in the back of the class with his seat facing the wall. Eyes facing a blank white wall, fingernails tapping the desk, head down, and the smell of exasperation in the air. I was the type of boy who would sprint through the hallways cackling, furthermore resulting in repeatedly get scowled at by teachers for my obscene and inordinate behavior. In hindsight, I realized Freshman year after pulling the fire alarm that my behavior needed to have a parameter and come to a complete termination. Consequently, I spent the entire Summer in my room contemplating my life and my decisions.

I am disconnected, lacking contact with reality. It happened in an instant and gradually intensified over time. October of 2015, I had just turned 14 and everything was average, mediocre. I was subdued at this time for reasons I cannot recall and hadn’t been talking much in class. The issue commenced in chemistry class in what lasted a second but felt like a lifetime. The class had been divided into groups, and we were assigned to create a poster. After half an hour of doing the entirety of the work myself, the poster was completed, and I was satisfied with it. Each group was to choose a person to represent their group and explain the poster. Fortunately, I was not chosen. After each poster was presented, they were each taped to the whiteboard

I moved to south east corner of Georgia in little ole Waycross. You probably don't know where that is but imagine dirt roads, mud, bad weather, and alligators and that's where i moved to. I was enrolled in Williams Heights Elementary School and placed in Mrs. Rodgers class but my trouble making days weren't over. I always was messing with my teacher by erasing what she had written on the board or just being defiant. I was so bad that one day i decided to start a food fight in lunch by launching milk cartons like mortars. This sparked the immediate retaliation of the opposing table and since i threw the first milk carton i was the one who got in trouble. When I went to the Principal's office the principal said

A significant event that happened today involved a child who was demonstrating stubbornness. The teacher had an activity planned for me, which dealt with number recognition. Essentially, the teacher provided instructions, directing me to present a number from 1-10, where then the child would count the number of bear figurines to match the given number. I came across one child who was being difficult and did not want to wait her turn while I was assisting the other children. She kept peeking her head through the door asking if it was her turn, as I kept telling her that I would call her when it was. Finally, when it got to her turn, I called her into the back room and told her to count six bears. Instead, she told me she did not want to and that she wanted

I turned and Chad was standing there. Chad said “I warned you, you cotton piker.” I naturally backed off because it was not worth fighting about. From that point on everyone considered me the “Wimp who can not stand up for himself.” For the rest of the year my life was a living hell. The only time anyone talked to me is when someone would make a racist comment. Half way through the soccer season I had to quit because I was treated like an outcast from my fellow members and the coach. Later on the year a kid named Matt Flyn made a racial comment. I was in such a bad mood so I punched him in the face. The fight was broken up right away, and we were both sent to the principal ‘s office. When we got there, I was the one that was punished and Matt was left off with no punishment. I found out later that week that the principal was racist against Hispanics. I had no idea what to do, so I just left it and told no one Both my parents and the school guidance counselor noticed that I was having some problems. I refused to tell anyone what was matter with me, and told everyone to just leave me alone. That was first time I felt worthless thing in the world. Just because I dated a white girl, and because I was Mexican they demoralized to me. About month a later, I looked at everyone that picked on me. I noticed that the kids. I went to school with were never taught what discrimination can do to someone, mentally and physically. In the world today, there are a variety of

When I was in the second grade we had a new student in our class named Yvonne. Yvonne had recently arrived from Haiti and knew very little English. Due to the fact that she didn’t understand English a whole lot, the other kids in my class thought it would be funny to call her names and bully her. One day we were at electives. Our class was divided into two, some going to Dance others going to Drama. The doors were across from each other so we could see what was happening. I was in Dance, as well as Yvonne. We were practicing our routine for Ciara’s “1, 2 step”. Yvonne was quick to pick up the dance and was amazing at it, which I think made the other kids in our class resent her. Our instructor dismissed us 5 minutes early to pack up our things. I quickly went to my corner and grabbed my backpack. When I looked up I saw a bunch of girls surrounding Yvonne. I remember hearing them calling her names like ‘ugly’ and ‘loser’. I noticed that no one moved to defend her. One of the girls actually pushed her to the ground and took her backpack dumping all her things on the floor; that’s when I acted. I pushed my way through the girls and placed myself in front of Yvonne. I grabbed her backpack out of the girl’s hand pushed her and called her a ‘mean witch for making fun of Yvonne’. I also told the other girls that if they messed with Yvonne, they would have to

Cerritos High taught 4 grades as well, but there were 2200 students. The school was like a small town, a town where Blacks, Hispanics, Koreans, Taiwanese, Japanese, Egyptian and White teenagers were pushed together for 7 hours a day. I had never been around so many different cultures, ideals and ideas. I was not prepared, I was shell shocked and the other guys could smell it! I was beaten up 4 times my first year, the worst being an African American kid who decided extorting money from me every Monday was a good way to earn some extra cash. I was miserable, not sleeping; scared. I once told him no and tried to walk away but he just laughed, slammed me into the ground and he got the money. I was rightfully scared of that kid, but I was even more scared to tell my parents. I didn’t want to be the guy who hid behind his parents, I wanted to hurt that kid but I had no reasonable way to do it myself, and at this point I knew it couldn’t go on so I told my Dad. He handled it very calmly, told me not to worry, it would stop, and the kid would leave me alone. The following night my Dad told me that kid, the guy who hit me, extorted money from me, made my life horrible, that that kid’s father was the Vice President of a local bank. Guess whose father was extremely unhappy to learn his son was acting like a punk? Oh yes, Karma, it

I never really participated in, what I now like to call, class beatdowns, I was always in my seat alongside the

Toward the last days of my high school days, I was told that I was a troubled kid that needed serious disciplinary actions. I wished someone in school had understood my situation. I wished someone had spoken up for me. But it was their words against mine and mine was silent. I was not a troubled kid. I wished someone at school, the principal, the teachers, had read this quote by Annette Breaux, “Remember: everyone in the classroom has a story that leads to misbehavior and defiance. 9 times out of 10, the story behind the misbehavior won’t make you angry. It will break your heart”. Maybe then they might have explored deeper into my situation. My entire childhood was filled with isolation, abuse, and neglect. I was born in Hong Kong, the youngest

To make the days harder, Coach Bill would tell players to run 2 miles a day. Sometimes when players weren’t looking, he would hurl the ball at their head. Not only that during the games if you did something wrong, he would drag you off the field and make you run. If you made him look bad not only would he sit you out, but he would also make you dance to the entire team scored, then that was how many laps the defense had to run. If the team did not did not win, the whole team would run until someone passed out or puked. When all the players were weary, he would sit them down and ask if we were tired. If someone said, “yes,” then that meant more running. One time, when we were on the field, the sun was smiling, it was a beautiful day. One player

Although it started out as a misunderstanding (before I ever got up), I now realize how immature and childish, and most definitely not high-school level behavior, it was to argue and disrespect a teacher, especially over something like getting water. I don’t know what I was thinking when I disobeyed the

I was in trouble. I had broken the urinal. First I got suspended by the principle for 2 days. Sure not going to school is fun but I had to work outside all day as punishment. I was also sure that it would go on my record so I was sad about that. Secondly i got a ticket . If you did not know tickets are very expensive. I was going to have to work off that bill. Finally I had to go to court. It was 240$ which is a lot but what could i do. That is how I got in trouble in 8th grade.