Short tale of woe.
The five year old me was your typical happy go lucky chap. I'd started school and I was popular, intelligent, witty and stupidly self confident. Then my Dad left my Mam and all of a sudden I realised life wasn't always a cake walk.

Now I didn't wither and become a social retard like so many people would. I just showed the occasional glimpse of weakness usuaully in front of everyone at the worst possible times. This included breaking down in tears for no apparent reason, wetting myself etc. which obviously opened myself up for a bit of flack but I was still sociable and smart if not a lot softer.

By and large my peers were fine but a lad in the year above thought he'd seize on the fact I was having a tough time of it and make my life hell. He'd beat me up, call me names, push me around, threaten me etc. Because I was emotionally fragile after the divorce my immediate reaction was to sob like a girl whenever he punched me or said anything out of line. This obviously gave him a huge bully hard on as it just poured fuel on the fire and his taunts and attacks became more frequent and sustained. The more he had a go at me the more emotionally fragile I became. It was a vicious circle.

My Grandma knew there was something up and one day I confided in her (as much as a 5/6 year old can) that I was being bullied and by whom. She went straight to the school and told the headteacher.

The next day we filed in to school and it seemed as if nothing was up until it was time for assembly when we were told my year and the year above would have a special one in one of the classrooms. We all sat down and the teacher who was taking the assembly, a big burly ex-Rugby player called Mr. Moyes, dragged up the lad who had made dinner and breaktimes hell. He called a spade a spade. This lad was a bully, a nasty piece of dirt who should not be consorted with on any level by anyone in the school. He was scum.

The dressing down was legendary and as he stood, blubbering, I didn't feel vindicated. I didn't particularly want to see him humiliated as I knew what it was like myself. However, said dressing down worked. I was never bothered by him again, in fact he was more than civil to me after that.

Not all teachers are useless. Some are very bloody good at what they do.
(Peter Sutcliffe's Right Bollock, Mon 18 May 2009, 20:23, 2 replies)

Awesome teacher
Christ, where was that bloken when I was growing up?

good post mate
(micmac is happy as a pig in shite, Mon 18 May 2009, 22:29, closed)

aye
unfortunately that will not happen in this day and age - said teacher would soon find himself out of a job for doing that. For Christ's sake teachers aren't even allowed to say anything negative about a kid at a parent teacher evening, if it isn't positive, it isn't constructive. How the fuck is little johnny going to get any better at maths if teacher cant tell parents he is an arithmetical retard
(little lord muthafuckin fauntleroy, Tue 19 May 2009, 11:39, closed)