April 13, Fistfight

I was waiting in the hallway in a little alcove when I caught the tail end of a fight. Two tall fifth grade boys were outside the bathroom, each clutching at their chest or stomach in pain; both appeared to be crying angrily. A sweet boy in a vest was between them. He pushed them apart then led them to class: the bowl cut boy in front of him, being pushed like a lawnmower, and the permed hair boy holding on to his vest like a spurned lover and being dragged along.

When I came out of the alcove, the two fighting boys were in the midst of a talk with the homeroom teacher, and I had a job to get 5-5 calmed down enough from our rescheduled time to get in their seats and get ready.

I knew the two boys, once they came back in with red eyes, would likely be emotionally offline for English class and so I didn’t expect them to participate.

Then something amazing happened. While the kids were watching a short clip, the boy with a bowl cut turned around to the permed hair boy who happened to sit behind him. I kept my eye out for another fight but what happened instead was this: The boy with a bowl cut said something quietly to the boy he had got into a fistfight with not ten minutes earlier. He patted and held the other boy’s hand for just a moment and I knew they had made up.

Their eyes were dry by the end of class.

Can’t say the same for me!

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