How My Mum Beat the School Bully
Posted By Ric Vatner on July 23, 2010
I can remember at least three bullies that made my life hell when I was at school. But as a parent I now realise that it is no fun for the parent to watch either. I had to learn to deal with each one of them and it never got easier. I guess if I was a born fighter like my dad, I might even have enjoyed it but personally, I prefer a quiet life and I never saw the fun in getting my teeth knocked out.
But that is just me. Some of the kids I went to school with positively lived for it.
Watching the movie the Karate Kid recently reminded me of the time my mum decided to put a stop to one bout of bullying I was going through at school.
The Day the Bully Followed Me Home
This particular bully lived near our house and used to catch the same bus home from school as me. Somehow I came to his attention (my mouth was always bigger than my biceps) and from that day on, he made coming home a nightmare.
I tried everything, including catching a bus going in the opposite direction and once when he was getting especially frisky, I jumped off the bus as it went around a corner to escape his pugilistic attentions. But almost every day I came home with a new bruise or a black eye and my mum was getting fed up with it.
One morning she told me it was over, that I was to give him a hiding he would not forget so he would leave me alone.
It sounded like a plan when she said it, but the closer I got to school and the further I was from home the less plausible it sounded. Why was today any different? How was I any different to the boy who took the beating every day rather than being the one who gave it?
We were in different classes so I managed to avoid him throughout the day but when it came time to go home, my stomach was in my mouth, as usual. I got to the bus stop to find him there already and he gave me that evil smile that was full of promise. And I knew he intended to keep it.
The bus was full so he couldn’t get near me until we got off so I kept close to the exit and was the first off when we reached my bus stop. By a combination of running and mingling in crowds I got closer and closer to home without coping the hated beating.
I got pretty close; I could see my mum in the kitchen window. If I thought I was home safe, the bully had other ideas, he knew it was now or never so he grabbed me, swirled me around and smacked me in the mouth. He knew my mum could see us but my embarrassment just gave him extra pleasure and made him even more determined to give me a good beating.
Fight! Fight! Fight! They Cried
Isn’t it amazing how fast it goes from no one around to a circle of blood thirsty hunters with ugly screwed up masks for faces screaming fight! fight! fight!
I wasn’t in the least bit keen; I just wanted to get the bashing over with but with my mum watching I couldn’t just surrender.
I was angry, I was embarrassed, I hated the thought that my mum was going to see me get well and truly done over. I hated the kids in the circle for hemming me in and, of course, most of all I hated the bully.
I felt my self start to cry and the shame made me scream a roar of frustration. I saw him look scared for a second and I instantly decided it was now or never.

Again we collided like two fighter planes spewing death. There was little defense, it was all offence and the blows thudded home to nose and cheek and bone.
I attacked.
It was like two trains colliding. We ran at each other kicking and punching, gauging and scratching with no rules or etiquette. The crowd went quite at the sight of our ferocious conflict but we fought on until we could not move an inch.
There was no winner; we were both beaten and sore. I looked at him but he was not keen to continue and neither was I so I turned and walked the few yards to my house hoping my mum saw my best fight ever.
It’s Not Over till……
She met me just inside the door, took my school bag and then taught me a lesson I have never forgotten.
She said “You have not won”. Then she told me to go back and fight him again.
When I got back to the crowd, he was being feted by the boys. I knew then that she was right. I challenged him to fight. The crowd gasped. Wasn’t the first one bad enough? Did I have a death wish or something they wondered?
I could see him deflate for a second but he was a fighter and quickly came back. He was not going to give me the same chance he gave me the first time.
Again we collided like two fighter planes spewing death. There was little defense, it was all offence and the blows thudded home to nose and cheek and bone. I don’t know how long it lasted but we were both on the ground with the crowd shocked into silence.
I rolled on to my knees and shakily rose to stand. He got up too.
I staggered through the crowd towards my house and raised my eyes to look at the door. She was there, her eyes steely in their stare and her arms crossed. Her body said it all; I had not won.
My entrance was barred; I knew what I had to do.
I felt the tears well in my eyes, I felt the anger surge through my body as I turned and screamed a great roar of hate and anger and frustration and death. I charged at the crowd and to my surprise they burst and scattered in all directions and ran from me screaming and then in an instant of fear, he turned and ran after them.
When the anger left me, I was so tired I could not move. But I felt her behind me and then her arms engulfed me and as I broke down and cried, shaking from exhaustion, I could hear her say, “There, there, it’s all over now. You will never have to fight him again”
And boy, was I glad.






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