The moment I realised I had to speak up
In school, I was usually the quiet kid. I never spoke during assembly or when jokes started—even when they turned cruel. But when I saw his face, his pride rising like a wave ready to crash onto others and insult them, I knew I had to speak up.
Hi, I am Sam. I am 10 years old with long black hair. I am a very sporty person, and I love to do maths. In my appearance I may be short, but that does not affect who I am. I have many friends, and I go to Gerena Public School. I love my school life—it’s full of laughter, learning, and unforgettable moments. Except for one person who seems determined to dim the joy: Jake—the school bully. He always makes fun of other people, and he loves to pick on younger kids who are in a lower grade than him. Usually, everybody ignores what he does or just lets it go. But there was this one time where what he did was unforgettable. I knew I had to do something. And from that day on, he never bullied me or anyone again.
It started like this: It was a very scorching hot day as I was making my way to school, walking as slow as a snail. The morning drowsiness had still not left me. As I was manoeuvring my way through the muddy grass, I felt the sun’s golden rays wrap around me like a silken blanket—soft as a lullaby, glowing with morning light, cradling me in a comforting hug stitched from warmth and wonder. After a few more minutes of walking, I finally arrived at my destination. “Gerena Public School” it read in bold letters. I had arrived pretty early since my mum had to go to work, so I decided to go and sit on the bench.
After 30 boring minutes of waiting in the burning heat, one of my friends finally emerged from the school gate—or at least that’s what I thought. But, sadly, to my surprise, it was the good old bully, a.k.a. Jake.
“Hi, shorty,” he said as he came up to me.
“Shut up, Jake, nobody likes you,” I replied.
“Whatever,” he shouted as he ran off to his group of so-called friends.
After some more time, my other friends came as the bell rang. We all walked our way to our classrooms. Time ran as fast as lightning. I could not even process that it was the morning, and now it was already lunchtime! After eating the sandwich which my mum had packed, it was time for lunch playtime. Usually, I would play handball—and that’s what I did. But it was around the 12:40 pm mark when I suddenly heard screams of, “HELP! HELP!” I was confused. I mean, why would someone be crying for help at school?
As I made my way toward the sound, I saw a huge crowd gathered around one spot. I quickly dashed up there—and I was speechless. I could not believe what I was seeing. It was Jake, punching and having a physical fight with a poor Year 2 boy! The boy was bleeding at the knee, and his eye was bruised black.
“No, no! Please, Jake, please do not hit that boy!” I begged.
“What are you going to do about it, cry-baby? Come and try to stop me,” he replied as he delivered another devastating punch to the boy, sending him crashing into the brick wall.
“Please, Jake, listen to Sam! Don’t hit that boy anymore or you will get into huge amounts of trouble!” said Sarah (one of my friends).
“The only way I’ll stop is if one of you guys makes me,” replied Jake, as he kept headbutting the little boy.
“That’s it,” I thought, as I stepped into the fight and punched Jake in the stomach. Jake tried to hit back, but I did a spinning kick which knocked him to the ground. Luckily, he was conscious, but he was hurt very badly.
“STOP BULLYING US!” I shouted.
By the time the teacher came, all the drama was over. Confusion filled the teacher’s mind. She thought that I had hit Jake and the Year 2 boy, but the others explained that I was only trying to defend him. After the teacher analyzed the situation, she called all of us—Jake, the Year 2 boy, and my parents.
After everybody was in the principal’s office, the principal told me that she was proud of me for standing up, but she gave me a warning for fighting. That night, I could not sleep. I still remembered stepping into the middle of the fight to defend the poor boy. I saw that his face was filled with gratitude and relief. I did not know if I had done the right thing, but I felt proud that I had stood my ground.
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