I was six years old in September 1965 and lived in Indianapolis; Indiana, and it was time for me to start school. I was scared and did not want to go to school. I guess we are all like that in the beginning. I was a very shy child and had trouble talking because of an operation at three years old. To this day, I'm not sure what the operation was, and my mother never said much about it. There is a scar on my throat today and it cannot be explained to people when they ask me “What happened to your throat”.

So, off to school I went and met my first-grade teacher. I will never forget her. She made my life a living hell! Her last name was Piddocks. I can’t remember her first name. We just called her Ms. Piddocks.

She wore black cat-eyeglasses and her beady little black eyes protruded through her lenses like a laser beam. She did not like me, and I am not sure why. She would ask me questions and I tried to tell her the answers, but would have trouble talking and always thought she felt like I was just acting.

As most young students just starting school, I was not interested in being there for eight hours a day. I could not wait to get home and play with my G.I. Joe’s. So, I did not do very well in school my first year. However, having such a horrendous teacher did not help. I tried to do my schoolwork and listened intently to the teacher. She would ask me a question and I could not answer it and she seemed to get mad at me and she would stare at me with those cold black eyes. I wanted to crawl under my desk. She carried a three-foot ruler around the room, and she would tap on your desk with it when she asked a question. I guess I always thought she would hit me with it.

I could not wait for that clock to strike 3:30 p.m. Then I could escape that classroom and go home. My grades were not too good after the first three months of school, and I didn’t really care. I did not like Ms. Piddocks, and was terrified of her as a teacher. This made going to school more of a chore than a privilege.

Some of the students did not like me either. One thing I found out in life is children can be very cruel. People talk about bullying today and everybody cries about it. When I went to school bullying was an everyday hassle and nobody did anything about it. For me it started out with a few of the boys calling me names. I just went about my day and tried to ignore it. However, as the days went on it got worse.

At lunch time they would throw things at me while eating my lunch. Then they would walk by and bump into me purposely. During class they would throw things and hit me in the head. The teacher never did see them. I was scared and had never been in a fight at that young age, and did not want to be in a fight. So, I ignored the things they would do to me, and just tolerated it daily.

This went on for the first five or six months of my first year in school. They would make fun of me for not being able to talk. I would try to talk but the words would not come out very loud and people thought I was acting, I guess.

There were three boys that were the instigators. They were much bigger than me and they liked picking on me because they could. Well, it got to a point to where they told me they were going to beat me up after school one day. They told me to be at the front door after school and they would let me have it.

So, I did what most brave six-year-old boys would do. As soon as the last bell rang for school to let out at 3:30 p.m., I ran very fast out the back door and ran and ran and ran all the way home. This went on everyday for at least five months. As soon as that bell rang, off I went. I ran so fast because I was scared. I was a coward.

I walked to school as a first grader because we only lived about a mile from the school and it was right down the street, so I did not have to turn or go around the block. It was a straight shot to school. I enjoyed walking to school, but did not like going to school. So, every day I ran almost a mile to get home.

In the mornings I would have to be on the lookout for the three boys that wanted to fight me. If they saw me, they might punch me. So, I would hurry and get into the school and go to class to be near the teacher. I don’t know what was worse – the boys or the teacher? I only know life in the first grade was hell!

The day came when we had to have our pictures taken and my mom dressed me in a white shirt, black pants and a silly looking red bow tie. I looked ridiculous! My hair was greased down and parted to the side and my freckles protruded like shooting stars. When I looked in the mirror, I thought, “Oh God. Those boys are going to make fun of me now”.

When I got to school one of the boys walked past me and took a swipe at my bow tie and it went flying across the room. I tried to put it back on, but it was crooked. To this day, my first-grade picture shows me sitting there and my tie is crooked. Then he said, “I'm going to beat you up after school”. I started trembling. I went and sat at my desk. All I could think about that day was what he said to me. I don’t think I heard a word the teacher said that day.

When the bell rang at 3:30 p.m., again, I ran fast towards home. I survived a beating another day. However, the following day I had a dentist appointment, and my dad was going to pick me up at school. He told me to come out the front door and he would take me to the dentist. I thought, “No! I can’t go out the front door”. Those boys would be waiting for me, and my dad would be there. What could I do?

Well, the following day my dad pulled the car to the front of the school. I waited for a while and most of the children were gone. However, those three boys were at the front door waiting on me. My dad walked up to the front door and stood there waiting. I got scared. So, I slipped out the back door and ran home as fast as I could. When I got home, my mom asked me if my dad picked me up and I said, “No."

When my dad got home, he had this strange look on his face. He asked me if I came out the front door and I told him yes but didn't see him. My dad was a smart guy, and he knew those boys were waiting there for some reason. So, he asked me if it had anything to do with those boys waiting at the front door. I said, “No.” So, he said, “Well, I am going to pick you up tomorrow and we are going to the dentist. So, you need to come out that front door.” I said, “O.k.”

I couldn’t sleep all night. I tossed and turned and thought about those boys waiting at the front door. My dad would be there too, and I did not know what was going to happen.

The following day I was miserable. I kept watching the clock and looking at the boys in my class. They told me to be at the front door when school got out. So, the 3:30 bell rang, and I waited for the class to clear out and got up to leave. I walked very slow towards the front door like a man on death row. I was shaking and nervous. My dad’s car was parked in front of the school. He was walking towards the school. I walked out the front door and one of the boys grabbed me by my shirt. The other two boys surrounded me and started calling me names. Just then my dad stepped in and said, “You boys want to fight him?” They said, “Yes.” My dad told them O.k., but one at a time. I thought, “What?”

So, the fight was on. One of the boys started dancing around and he took a swing at me, I was running around dodging his punches. My dad said, “Fight back.” So, I stepped up and threw a left hook and hit the kid in the nose. It started bleeding. He started crying and stepped back. I could not believe it. The first punch I ever threw, and this kid cried like a baby while his nose bled. So, my dad said, “Who’s next?” I thought, “What?” The next boy said, “I’ll fight him.” So, he started at me, and I danced around while he tried to hit me. Then I threw another left hook and got him in the nose too. His nose started bleeding and he started crying. I thought, “Wow, this is pretty cool.” So, I started toward the other boy, and he took off running.

When we got home, my dad sat me down and told me that he did not want me to ever be a coward. He said, “I don’t want you to ever start a fight, but don’t ever run from a fight either.” He said, “There will be times in your life when you must be a man and stand up for yourself. Don’t ever be afraid to do that.” I learned a very valuable lesson that day. I was scared for so long and all it took was a couple of punches and my nightmare was gone. I had won the day, but still had the teacher to deal with for the rest of the year.