July 9th & 16th, pt 2

The problem with the team we faced on July 16th is...they're the best in our league.  Undefeated.  Never played more than 4 innings in any of their games.  Failed to invoke the 10-run mercy rule on their opponents just twice in their 7 games so far. 

I didn't tell the team that.  I knew...*KNEW*...that we would lose, but I wanted everyone to remain fired up about me taking the mound again so they would be ready to take names and break hearts. 

Boy, did we hold them!

We scored one run in the first...so did they.  Tied at 1-1 after first.  Failed to score a run and we gave up 2 runs in the second.  The shortstop started getting flippant with me, countermanding me on positioning the players.  I told him to shut up by gesturing the "Zip your lips" on the field.  We scored a run to cut the deficit to 3-2.  Then...

We did the impossible.  We shut them down in the third inning.  No score.  Nil.  Nada. 

Everything fell apart after third inning.  The shortstop started yelling and cussing at third baseman when she missed an easy grounder.  He kept doing the verbal assault on her and everyone heard him.  I didn't know this until we returned to the dugout after giving up 4 runs in the fourth.  When the captain informed me of that, I promptly kicked the shortstop off the lineup and replaced him with another player.

The third baseman was too rattled to keep playing so I replaced her with another player.  We were unable to score any more run in the rest of the game, gave up 2 more runs in the fifth, and the game was stopped in the 6th inning when they scored 3 more runs to make it 12-2, invoking the 10-run mercy rule on us.

When I held the postgame meeting with every intention to address the incident, the shortstop was nowhere to be seen.  He took off before the game had ended.  How unfortunate he chose to disappear before we could talk about anything.  I saw this as yet another display of disrespect for the team...and me as his coach.

After I got home and showered the dirt & sweat off, I sent an e-mail to the shortstop.  I told him his behavior on the field was not acceptable; he needed to apologize to the team and write a personal letter of apology to the female player who played at third base. 

I do not allow infighting between players/within the team and I will not tolerate disrespect for other players.  I don't care if he is the best thing to happen to the team.  Nobody is above anyone.  You don't do anything to embarass your team, your friends, your family, and yourself.

Sadly, he did not see it that way.  He pasted my e-mail verbatim in the team's Facebook group, said "This is about as silly as it gets to me, I wouldn't expect any of this to happen, and good luck with the rest of your season", and quit the team right after he posted that.  That affirmed what I knew - he felt he was above everyone else.

Everyone else showed support for my decision to call him out in e-mail and they all felt he was rude and disrespectful.  I reminded everyone that the city has a rule against profanity and I will not put up with anyone acting in a manner detrimental to the team or to the game. 

When I wrote this post, we were facing 5 games in 3 weeks and then the season would be over, all without that talented player...and I have faith in the team to win at least two more.

July 9th & 16th, pt 1

After winning 11-7 on July 2nd, I held a postgame meeting.  I congratulated everyone on doing their job of shut-down defense.  The pitcher was shaky that night, having walked 8 batters total and he apologized for that.  I told him not to worry - he would do better next week.

"Uhm, about that..."

Uh-oh. 

He proceeded to let me know he would be on vacation for 2 weeks.  Okay.  I asked the team if anyone would be willing to pitch next week.  I was immediately nominated for that.  Uhh...  I repeated my question and they all stared back at me.

The problem was I hadn't pitched in a game for 12 months and I figured with so many available players, I would not need to stay sharp.  After all, I was doing practice with two different teams at least once a week which helped keep me fit.  I consented and then sent everyone off with a rousing victory speech.

Before I knew it, Monday the 9th was here and...I never got around to practice on my pitching.  Crap.  I knew the exact distance because I have the measuring tape...but can I do it again, hitting the target consistently after all that time?  Only way to find out.  I went to the park an hour early, measured off the distance, placed a faux home plate at the end of the tape, and took my spot on the other end. 

I positioned myself, took one step back, took a breath, and went into the motion.  I was short by two full plates.  Tried harder...*thud!*  The ball had hit the plate.  I tried harder and I cleared the plate, but a bit off to the right.  Took a breath, centered myself, focused on the area above the plate, and let it fly.  Landed perfectly.  Threw another...almost same result.  A slight hiccup in my throwing mechanism and the ball veered off.  Centered myself and I found the area once again.

15 minutes later, I felt good about my arm.  Then the game started 10 minutes later.

First inning - we scored a run and then it was my turn.  I was a bit off and walked the first batter (since this was a male batter, he automatically advanced to second base).  The next batter tried to wait on my pitches in order to draw a walk.  The shortstop (one of the fixtures) came over to tell me how to pitch.  I told him to back off, do his job, and I will do mine.  The batter then grounded out, advancing the runner to third.  I walked third batter, putting him on 2nd base.  The fourth batter flied out to outfield, scoring the runner.  The 6th batter grounded out, tying the score at 1-1.

Second inning - we didn't score a run.  First batter grounded out, 2nd batter singled, 3rd batter singled, 4th got on by shortstop's error, 5th lined out, 6th lined right at me which almost took me out, scoring 2 runners, before shutting down the next two batters through flyouts.  I became very vocal on the field and that fired the team up.  I didn't walk a batter and gave up just three hits.  Down 3-1.

Third inning - we scored a run to cut the deficit to 3-2.  Got first batter to ground out.  Second batter singled, third batter grounded out, and fourth batter struck out.  Score remained unchanged, but I underwent a transformation on the mound.  I found my zone and nothing was getting to me at all.

Fourth inning - no score from us.  Struck out first batter, gave up a single to next batter, third flied out to outfield (outfielder thought it was three outs and never bothered to throw the ball back so the runner advanced on no throw), fourth singled to score the runner home, fifth singled, and sixth batter lined out at second baseman.  Score 4-2.  Everyone could hear me and I told the shortstop off again for not being in his position.

We scored 2 more runs over the next 2 innings...but gave up one more run in the final inning to seal our fate.  The funny thing was that shortstop singled before I told him to back off and do his job.  He floundered, going 0-4 and committing two errors.  I felt good about myself despite having pitched 7 innings, giving up 5 runs and walking two batters.  I wanted more out of myself and others...and I knew the team wanted me back on the mound next week. 

The problem with next week was...  Come back next week to find out!  ;)

Part 2 of "A new workplace = anxiety"

If you will recall, I talked about my experiences at the county government center 5 months ago (see posts #1 & #2 for more). I will discuss the other experiences that helped cement my unyielding intolerance for all forms of discrimination against deaf people.

When I worked for the 1st manager, she always got me an interpreter for meetings and seminars. She knew I had something that would greatly benefit the department and she made sure, through her actions, that I would want to contribute. When another deaf person was hired and struggled mightily to understand how to do her job, the manager went out of her way by hiring an interpreter to stay with the new worker for a full working week (the new worker had an interpreter for 2 days beforehand). The deaf worker ended up getting fired for playing with her pager too much while in training.

The first incident occurred when HJIC (see the hyperlinked posts) called a meeting without bothering to set up an interpreter to announce who he had hired as the 3rd manager (the Bitch). I had to rely on co-workers to tell me what was going on. The second incident happened just one month into the Bitch's tenure when she tried to minimize the need for an interpreter by telling me, "Oh the meeting is just 5 minutes...don't worry about it." We walked out of the meeting 20 minutes later and I understood not a thing. I lost my faith in the county government.

The county never hired another deaf person. Ever. I was hired in 2000 and the last one was hired in 2002. The last deaf worker, who was hired about 5 years before me, finally quit about 3 years ago when she figured out that nobody was going to promote her despite all the sacrifices she made for the county.

I was hired away from the county as an advocate and I was able to bring a lot to the table for the company that hired me. I became a heavy hitter for the deaf community and I made a lot of hearing people nervous. I toured around many police stations to give lectures on the rights of deaf citizens. When the deaf community learned of my tours, they were indignant because they have had personal experiences with the police which soured them on the cops. My response? "Call me when something happens to you and I'll help."

My first call was when I had to advise a deaf citizen to file discrimination against the police department (in my hometown, no less) when I found out that after arresting him for suspicious activity, they mocked his speech and denied him the right to an interpreter. I went to the police station and told them to stop patrolling his house or I would consider that to be a form of harassment since the client filed a claim of discrimination against them. The client let me know he missed the deadline to file, but the cops had kept their distance ever since and his life had gotten better.

My second call? I threatened a police station with legal action when they refused to let her wear the cuffs in front when I visited her in her cell. There was no way she could communicate with anyone, let alone me or an interpreter. She was arrested for a hit and run and they wouldn't get her an interpreter. I brought my own interpreter and after the cops finally agreed to comply with my demands with the deaf woman, they asked to interview her as a possible witness to a crime that occurred in her neighborhood. Naturally, she refused to cooperate with them after what happened to her in the cell.

After I left, I followed up on her the next day and I learned that the police had asked for a psych evaluation on her and I had to threaten them again when she was evaluated without an interpreter. The person I called was incredulous about the whole thing, even said to me "What does it matter to you if she had an interpreter or not?" I responded with, "Imagine if you were being held in a foreign country, you don't speak their language, and you weren't given an interpreter. How would you feel about that?" The person said incredibly, "We aren't in another country. I don't get the point." I hung up on her without saying another word since it became painfully clear to me that she wouldn't work with me and I promptly called the police commissioner. That call shook things up.

The point? If you think you are being discriminated against, SPEAK UP! Edmund Burke said it best, "All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is that good men do nothing."

Silence = consenting to or accepting what happens to you
Silence = not fighting for your most basic right
Silence = letting them do it again...to YOU

A new workplace = anxiety for various reasons

Furry Bottoms' post about the struggles of being a deaf person in a hearing world inspired me to write a post about workplaces.

I am always anxious each and every time I start working at a new job. The first reason is communication and learning how. The "learning how" part refers to how everyone uses their mouths...some people will talk tiny while others will mumble. What I mean by "talk tiny" is little mouth movement which makes it hard for me to lipread. Oh boy, that reminds me of a story for another post and that will be published in the near future...I promise! :)

The second reason is discrimination. I have seen far too much and experienced way too many times to not allow any wiggle room on this matter. I will not entertain or accept any argument on what is pretty much the white elephant in the room for those who have never known firsthand what it is like to experience discrimination as a person with disability in a workplace.

Here we go...

My first negative experience happened on the first day of my first job. How's that for an auspicious beginning of my work career? My dad knew this guy who was the supervisor of bag boys at the commissionary and the supervisor's deaf son also worked there. For those of you who don't know what the commissionary is, it's basically a grocery store on the military base. The bag boys there did not work on a hourly basis - they worked for tips only. I had been stiffed few times and the smallest tip I ever got? A fricking dime. Jeez!

While on a break, I sat down to read a newspaper. One of the bag boys came over to me with an incredulous look on his face and said, "You can read that?" When I told him I could, he did not believe me and asked me for the newspaper. After giving it to him, he randomly pointed to an article elsewhere in the newspaper and asked me to read it out loud. I lasted only two months; when the supervisor told me if I left early again due to my illness, I should not bother to come back...so I didn't. I didn't appreciate that despite coming in to work every day.

I worked in a warehouse for a company that primarily dealt with retail and rental stores for movies and music. You can imagine how vast the place is - it takes 10 minutes to walk from the front entrance to the back exit. The company was amazing in terms of working with my deafness. I first started as a warehouse worker who did whatever was asked of me. They realized the potential in me and promoted me to being in charge of a locked enclosure containing promotional items of high value. They paid for a phone signaller so I could hook it up to my TDD. Every time the phone signaller flashed, I would know the call was for me and that meant there was a special job for me - a customer was going to get the goodies. I never messed up an order because the TDD always printed out the conversations so I could easily refer back for accuracy. For those who don't know what a TDD is, it's a teletype device for the deaf which looks like this:

The shortest duration ever on any job was three days at Wal-Mart in 2009. Worst two days ever and I thought nothing could come close to what I experienced in my job at a government center. Wal-Mart came extremely CLOSE SECOND to that. I skipped the 4th day (Friday) by claiming that I was unable to find a babysitter for my girls. Then the weekend came and went and I called few minutes before I was supposed to start on my "5th day" (Monday) to say I wouldn't be able to work anymore due to babysitting issues. 1st day was nothing; I was paired up with a worker who had been there 10 years and he showed me everything I needed to do. We got along just fine. He asked me about me and why I was here.

Then...along came 2nd day...I was paired with a female worker who was slightly older than me, but alcohol had taken its toll on her - making her look to be in late 50s instead of mid 40s and I could smell it in her pores, as if she had taken a sip right before coming in to work. She acted like I was the stupidest guy she had ever known. She insisted on showing me how to take out a trash bag in the office area and how to replace it. She did not believe me when I told her I had already taken care of trash in the break room - she made me follow her to the supposedly full trash cans. Yeah...duh. When I was cleaning the bathrooms, she put up a sign on the door that said, "Closed for cleaning". I saw what she did and went back to cleaning. She came over to me and told me to go read the sign...I told her I had already read it. She became indignant and demanded that I tell her what the sign said while blocking my view. I repeated the sign verbatim and said, "I can read." Things were tense between us the rest of the time.

3rd day...oh boy...the worst was yet to come. I was supposed to work alone, but the alky must've complained about my attitude instead of telling the truth so I was paired with a young man. Everything seemed to be going well until it was time to clean the bathrooms and I discovered how ugly and petty people could get. In the ladies' room, he immediately sat down and started working on the sink pipes with a rag at a leisurely pace. I shrugged and cleaned the stalls and moved on to the men's room. 5 minutes later, a supervisor came in and sternly told me to clean the ladies' room. I tried to explain that I did while that guy cleaned the pipes, but the supervisor wouldn't listen. Fine. I re-mopped the floor. The guy came in and watched me mop. I left to clean the men's room.

Guess what? I got chewed out...because she said I didn't clean the toilets. Oh yes, I did the first time around. Fine. I got another bottle of bowl cleaning solution and used up the whole bottle in all 4 toilets. The supervisor watched me the whole time. Then she ordered me to clean the men's room and I got yet another bottle and she watched me while I cleaned everything all by myself. Yep, that young worker claimed he did the work while I goofed off. To punish me for that, the supervisor made me help workers re-stock the products. Haha...I actually enjoyed that part and the supervisor came to fetch me at the end, thinking I'd be wishing I was cleaning the bathrooms. Her shocked reaction upon seeing my face (I had enjoyed the re-stocking and was rocking at it) was priceless!

I guess I will write in depth about my job at the county government center at a later time (in two weeks) since this post was SO LONG. Sorry about that. Just sharing my experiences and you'll see why there is absolutely no wiggle room left by the time you finish the second part.

Bullying at home

Someone e-mailed me to ask this question - "Were you ever bullied at home? I would think you were. Is that too painful to discuss?"

No, not painful to discuss at all. I just talked about three instances of bullying at high school. Didn't talk about grade school (actually I did, you can read about it in my spitting war post) or my deaf school, let alone at home. Good question.

In Bully #2 post, I wrote about having been in fights. Most of the fights occurred near my house. The biggest one involved 3 boys jumping on me. As you will recall in Bully post #2, I made the leader pay by making the brick wall meet his head.

All of that paled in comparison to the kid who lived next door to me. I was a day older than him, but he had major issues - his mother left when he was a baby, he was 4th of 6 children, he had an older brother who was sadistic, his dad kept marrying his secretaries (his mom was one, his 1st stepmom was one, his 2nd stepmom was one, etc.), he got in fights with anyone and everyone, was held back in school twice before dropping out as a sophomore and he frequently stole things.

Took me a long time to figure out that he was friends with me only to take advantage of me. I didn't know better and I finally had enough of him when I was a junior. The breaking point happened that May when he cooked up some elaborate explanation about how he needed my car and how he would make a lot of money with my help.

After loading a full case of vodka bottles into the trunk of my car, he told me to drive to a certain location. I asked him how he got a whole case and he claimed that he took it from his father. I knew that his father doesn't drink vodka and I pressed him on that, but he stuck to his story.

After arriving at the destination, it dawned on me how he intended to make money with the case. We were at a prom party (this was BEFORE chaperones were commonplace in the mid 80's) and I felt sick to my stomach...he was trying to sell liquor to kids without regard to how they may or may not arrive home safely...or how the date may not turn out well while under the influence of alcohol.

Luckily for me, the night got cold and I managed to convince him that I would drive him back here after I went home to get my jacket. He had not sold any bottle yet and he went with me because he knew that I knew I was the getaway driver. He had no way of escaping if he stayed behind and got busted.

The moment I went into my house was the moment I told my mother what was going on. She immediately called his father and asked that we all meet in their living room. The son glared at me as we came in. She then told his father that there was a case of vodka in the trunk of my car and his own son was trying to sell them to the kids at the prom party.

His response? "I want to call the police and press charges on your son for trying to sell liquor."

My mother was shocked, but recovered quickly and said, "Want to bet whose fingerprints the police will find on the bottles? Want to bet what the witnesses will say who tried to sell them liquor? In fact, I wonder how YOUR son got a case of vodka. Hmm?"

The father just sat there.

Then he tried to blame me for putting ideas in his son's head. I was stunned by that. How could he say such things about me? I lived next door with the family for about 10 years and he said that? My mother explained to me afterward that he was in denial. He did not want to admit that his own son was so screwed up like that.

About 5-7 months later, he was arrested for burglary at an electronic store along with 2 other friends and not surprisingly, he made one of his friends the patsy by fingering him as the ringleader. After I found out about that, I went to the patsy and said, "I know you were not the ringleader." He felt better about that, but the look on his face...as if this...whatever it was...would be permanently etched into his face...I didn't and still don't know exactly what his thought was at that moment.

Out of curiousity, I covertly checked out the son on Facebook 2 months ago...wasn't hard with an unusual last name like his. He didn't list any family (I was unable to locate his siblings), didn't seem to have kids, his status showed that he is not in a relationship, and has 2,000+ friends. He looks THIN and looks old (remember...I am just one day older than him). Pathetic.

Story series - trying to blend in anonymously, part three

Bully #3 came into my awareness in my junior year at the beginning of winter. I was trying to cut across a snow-covered baseball field since the campus is large and I was already running late for a class.

This guy saw me trying the shortcut and ran over to talk to me about something. I didn't understand him and I tried to be polite with him by using the usual "I don't understand you. I am deaf" tactic.

He kept talking to me and he was using his mouth in such a way that was not conductive to lipreading; barely moving the lips and speaking too rapidly. I tried again but that didn't seem to get through to him. I shrugged and turned to leave. I happened to look back and I saw him bend down to scoop up some snow.

I ducked before he could hit me with the snowball and I laughed at his clumsy effort as I walked away. I thought I wouldn't see him again since I had never seen him before. Not so. The next day in a hallway, someone leaned into my peripheral vision and did the mocking mouth movement. When I slowed down to look at that person, I recognized him from yesterday and I realized that I had never noticed him.

Each and every time he saw me, he would mock me. I was already well-known at the school, despite its size with 2,000 students and I hated that because it meant that I had to endure the looks and the whispers (like I can hear them!) as I walked by. My self-confidence was nowhere to be found so I really hated being "outed" like that and that guy was doing that every time he saw me.

He never touched me. He never waved his arms. Never did anything to me except let his friends KNOW who I am. Every dang time. Then...a new semester came around...

That meant new classes. Wouldn't you know it? He happened to be in the same physical education class with me. I had always looked forward to P.E. every semester because I got to play sports and I got to show everyone that being deaf didn't necessarily mean you'd be terrible at sports and I loved knowing that I wouldn't be the last one picked for teams. Loved that...and there he was.

I had this friend who sat next or near me in alphabetical order. Never forgot his name. He was already a stud - he was a drummer and he worked hard on his body and his long flowing hair so he would look hot. Rock music was the rage in the 80's...and he saw this guy mocking me in P.E.

In a flash, he stood up and walked over to him and said "Stop! Don't do that anymore!" and came back to his position and resumed his conversation with me.

Just like that.

The guy was left speechless, and so was I. Never had anyone stand up for me like that. Especially not the guy who could have any girl he wanted without having to work for it.

I was never ever bothered by anyone after that. Coupled with the fact that my sister had finally become one of the most popular girls in her sophomore year (remember, she was one year behind me), nobody wanted to mess with the hot drummer's friend or the popular girl's deaf brother.

Story series - trying to blend in anonymously, part two

Last week, I wrote about Bully #1 in my math class during my freshman year. Bully #2 was never in any of my classes, but we were both sophomores. He was someone I would walk by often in the hallways on my way to my classes.

My high school has 20 buildings on a sprawling campus. The campus was formerly used by a community college before my town got bigger and prompted the need for a bigger campus to handle the rising number of students. The vacated campus created a perfect opportunity for my town to split up into two high schools.

Bully #2 wasn't a jock, an artist, or even a popular guy. He was a nerd. Apparently, he couldn't stand the thought of having a deaf nerd in his clique. Yes, I was a nerd...how I acted with others didn't allow for me to fit into any of the cliques except for the nerds.

Physically, he was unremarkable - wore glasses, kept his hair short, didn't change his clothes often, and always preferred one pair of shoes. He was slightly heavier than me and about 2 inches/5 centimeters taller.

One day, he worked up some courage (or was it more likely his hatred moved him into action?) and he got physical with me by deliberately bumping into me with his shoulder, knocking the books out of my hands, pretending not to see me and get into my way.

I simply adjusted by getting a backpack (since I knew others would do the same thing) and stepping out of the hallway for a longer route to my classes. That drove him nuts since he couldn't get to me at all. Took him until the next semester before he could get to me again.

January came around and he put into action what he thought was a perfect plan. Let me explain the layout of the school. About half of the buildings are connected by hallways and every once in a while there is a small grouping of offices for teachers. One such cluster was largely abandoned (due to poor location and too few teachers) and that's where he was, hiding and waiting for me to walk by.

He came out and asked to talk to me privately. I knew what he had in mind and I wasn't scared of him at all. I followed him back into that "lounge" and he told me to go ahead and put my backpack down. The second I did as asked was the second he grabbed hold of me and pushed me back into a wall.

I was actually amused by that because of two things: 1) he wasn't really doing it roughly like he meant it and 2) his eyes were showing fear. Seeing my smile on my face scared him more and he twisted his fists deeper into my shirt. Big mistake.

I already knew what to do. Digging deeper into my shirt meant that his hands weren't readily available for defense and he was completely exposed. I had been in fights before; even took on three boys at once and lost that one...but not before I made the leader pay with a gash in his head and a lingering headache by making a brick wall meet his head.

I decided that the best way to deal with this scared bully was to make him temporarily deaf. I clapped my hands on his ears just hard enough to achieve that effect without bursting any of his eardrums. I wanted to burst one just for hassling me, but the school was notoriously tough on fighting - an immediate expulsion if caught.

He let go of my shirt in shock and cupped his ears. He stood there and did not say a word so I moved in and pointed at his face and said "Bother me again and I will burst your ears. If I see you in the hallway, I will burst your ears. You better turn around and walk away if you see me coming. Got that?"

He just stared at me, incomprehensibly. My voice got louder and sterner, "GOT THAT?" and he nodded. I smiled sweetly at him, picked up my backpack, opened the door out to the hallway, and walked away without even a glance.

I almost never saw him again until we graduated as seniors.

Part three will be published next week. This one is a doozy - you'll like it. ;)

Story series - trying to blend in anonymously, part one

Gillian, from A Daft Scots Lass blog, made a comment on my "That Was It?" post which helped inspire me to post another story. She said, "This story really made me smile. I love to hear of bullies getting what they deserve." and that stirred a memory from high school. I had three bullies at my high school and I remember them all clearly. That's why the title of this post is "trying to blend in anonymously, part one".

I had made a mistake of putting myself on an accelerated pace of Algebra in 8th grade (I was trying to compete with other students for "first place" that existed only in my mind) because I found myself in 9th grade Algebra where it was normal to have two or three sections assigned daily. Why was that a mistake? I didn't understand what was going on, let alone learn effectively...and to exacerbate the matter further, I felt like a fish out of the water.

Didn't help that I was the lone deaf student in that class. A student took advantage of that. Never forgot him...his last name was Nugent and he made a big deal out of that by wearing Ted Nugent shirts. Never was related to Ted...he couldn't possibly have since his actions were more on par with the Neanderthal than with the homo erectus or even homo sapien.

Each and every time the teacher turned around to write things down on the blackboard, Nugent would try to bother me. At first, it was easy to ignore him because he tried to talk to the back of my head. Hello...I can't hear you...and you're in this class? Wow.

He finally figured out that he had to touch me in order to get my attention and that fed his feeding frenzy. I could tell that he wasn't being friendly to me - laughing at me and looking at his friends for encouragement is a dead giveaway. I tried to pretend to stare blankly at him as he either mumbled at me or spoke rapidly on purpose. That didn't work. I tried to ignore his taps on my back. Didn't work. Even tried brushing off his "touches". Made him more motivated than before.

I had to report Nugent to the principal when the teacher didn't believe me on what was going on. Nugent claimed that he was trying to help me understand whenever he talked to me. He was only reprimanded and the teacher was ordered by the principal to move Nugent to the opposite side of the classroom. Remember, this was the 80's. No suspensions, no detention hall, nothing.

Nugent kept bothering me in the class. He learned from one of the students that waving arms was an effective way to get my attention from a distance. He would laugh and wave his arms at me. I was extremely frustrated and that made it inifinitely harder for me to learn. The problem went away only because I was struggling too much to learn anything and I was moved to Intermediate Algebra.

That, was the "lightest" instance I had involving the three bullies in high school. I never interacted with Nugent again after I was reassigned to Intermediate Algebra. My sister moved on to 9th grade the following year and I found out from her why Nugent had disappeared. He got in trouble with the authorities over drugs and his parents moved away to avoid the shame.

Next Wednesday, I will write about Bully #2. Be sure to come back next week!