I Had Enough!

I’m a rule follower. I always have been. I only break the rules if I believe there is a good reason to break them. Otherwise, I’m a “by the book” person. I did not get in trouble in school. I was always shy and quiet. I kept to myself.  I was always reading a book or writing a story. I definitely did not do anything to get sent to the principal’s office. So, it was a surprise to everyone when I got in trouble had to visit the principal in seventh grade.

The incident happened on the bus ramp after school. I know that Nana had already died, so it was after October, but I didn’t have my braces on yet, so it was before May. There was a boy who picked on me every day. He would only see me on the bus ramp, while we waited to be picked up and shuttled home. He would talk about how ugly I was and how my teeth were terrible (I clearly needed the braces I got in May). Every day he called me names. Every day I silently ignored him. He clearly rattled me, but I was not witty enough to have a come back. I just tried to keep walking and get away from him.

After Nana died, there were a lot of feelings inside. Plus there was build up from this boy being mean to me everyday. One afternoon, I’d had all I could take, and I blew up. I pushed him and told him to leave me alone. If I had just yelled at him, it would have not been as bad, but I put my hands on him. I was so angry inside. I was tired of being called ugly. I was tired of being teased.

A teacher took our names down. I probably cried (I don’t remember, but I cry at just about everything). I went home on the bus. I do not think I said anything to my parents about it. They wouldn’t understand. 

The walk from my classroom to the principal’s office the next day was terrible. I was scared of being in trouble. I never broke rules. I was not a mean kid who pushed kids around. I didn’t even call kids names.  I planned to tell the principal the whole truth; I was going to tell her how this boy picked on me everyday and I had enough. I was hoping she would believe me.

I sat in a chair in front of her desk. The boy sat in a chair next to me. This made me scared. How could I tell her how he teased me all the time with him sitting there? the principal asked what happened. He told her that I pushed him. I summoned the courage to tell her that I did push him after he called me ugly. And that he called me ugly and other names every day on the bus ramp. I told her I should not have pushed him, but that I could not take the name calling anymore. He tried to deny it at first. She wanted to know why I never told on him before. I shrugged. I did not know what telling would have done. I had to apologize, but was not given another consequence. He had to apologize too and was told to leave me alone. He was not given another consequence either, but was warned there would be one in the future if he continued to bother me.

I went to my locker after leaving her office to get the books I needed for my next class. I felt relieved that I was not sent to detention or in school suspension. I was happy she listened to me. I was also happy the bus ramp was a safer place to be after that day.

Lessons from Grandpa

When asked who I admired most and why, I always answered, “My grandpa because he built a business from nothing.” When he passed away, I found out just how famous he was in the music world. I did not realize prior to his funeral just how many lives he had touched. He was just my grandpa, the man who led our family. Going to visit Grandpa at the office was a big deal. So was a chance to go to his house. I have fond memories of holidays at his house.

One of my favorite moments with my grandpa was when he would gather the “grand girls” (me, my sister, and two cousins) on his bed to share a story with us. We would giggle with excitement until his serious tone would signal to us it was time to settle down and listen.  Most of his stories dealt with not drinking and getting an education. These were what he valued.

My favorite story is “The Bridge Story” which was always told when Grandpa drove the family down to Galveston to have lunch at Gaido’s. When driving from Houston to Galveston, there is an overpass called the causeway.  It’s really tall and allows for people to get on and off the island while boats can drive underneath in the bay. The original bridge is one that goes up and down so boats could pass. It’s still there, almost always raised up.

As we would drive over the causeway, Grandpa would tell us about a guy who got behind the wheel of his car after drinking too much. He was driving across the bridge and did not realize the bridge was being raised for a passing boat.  As his story goes, the guy drove off the bridge and drowned. My grandpa always ended the story by adding that the car drowned too. We would silently look out into the bay and imagine a guy and his car drowning because he drank too much and drove his car.

I’m not sure if this is a true story. I think the make, model, and color of the car was different over the years. He wanted us to not drink and drive. I think out of all the “grand girls”, this story stuck with me the most. I cannot say I never drove after drinking, but I can say that I’m terrified of bridges. I do my best to avoid them, especially suspension bridges and those like the one in Galveston that goes up and down.

I always have to tell “The Bridge Story” as I drive over the causeway, no matter who is in the car with me. It’s tradition. I’ve even been travelog with people who were talking and I couldn’t share the story aloud, so I told it to myself in my head. I wish I had recordings of my grandpa telling his stories.