Chapter 15: Gym Class Bullies

Bullying was an occupational hazard in junior high school. This was especially true in Brookline. Like mosquitoes, their sole purpose in life was to annoy. After my experience with a gang of bullies, my primary mission in school was to keep as much space between the walking shitheads and myself as possible.

Easier said than done.

Gym class qualified as a special circle of Hell. I hated gym class for the same reason bullies loved it. The physical limitations of potential targets were there for all to see. Choosing sides for team play was the worst. If anyone had doubts of where they stood in the social order, choosing of sides made your ranking crystal-clear.

Being the last kid picked was not the ultimate humiliation ... being the last kid standing while two team captains fought over who got stuck with you was.

Group showers were trials by ordeal. Trying to become invisible while also being naked was impossible. Whatever a boy had, or didn’t have, was on full display and open to public commentary. Less developed kids endured merciless harassment by self-assigned “package inspectors.”

“Is that your dick or did you borrow your sister’s clit?” was a shower room favorite.

The jocks ruled the roost and God help anyone who got their particular attention. One poor kid was unfortunate enough to get a boner while showering. He might as well have drenched himself in gasoline and lit a match. The jocks had a field day.

“You want to suck on this, you little fag?” they yelled as they shoved, pushed, and punched the poor kid.

Naked and terrified, the eighth grader was crying as he tried to make his escape. The band of bullies blocked him at every turn. It took a few minutes to begin to guess what his tormentors had in mind. As they pushed and shoved the kid, they were herding him in the direction of the exit.

I remember thinking, “Oh! Shit, they are not really going to do that,” just as the jocks pushed their naked victim out into the hallway.

The boy’s pounding on the door and his pleading screams of, “Let me in!” reverberated through the locker room. Then the end-of-class bell sounded and the hallway flooded with students.

I never knew the kid’s name. We never saw the new transfer student in school again.

A furious gym teacher called us together and demanded to know, “What happened and who is responsible?” He made the mistake of asking a group question. A bubble of silence was the group answer.

Apparently, everyone was looking the other way when the incident occurred.