The First Time I Got Hit

I remember the first time someone hit me at school. It was at White Fields infants school in Luton. We were sitting down in the group area, and I was next to some kid who clearly had too many jelly babies at lunch time, because he couldn’t keep still. I don’t really remember his name, but I think it was along the lines of Trevor, so I’ll refer to him as that.

Anyway, Trevor sat in the middle of me and some other kid on the bench. I guess he was at the stage where he got amusement out of hitting people, because for no reason at all he decided to deliver a double dose of elbow to the gut, hitting me and the boy sat on the other side of him. Trevor smashed his elbows into both mine and the other kids stomach so hard I think my lunch wanted to come back to say hi.

I’m not going to lie, I wanted to cry so bad. But for some reason I decided to eat it. Regardless of the fact I had been hit with much less force before (at home) and still cried, on this occasion I decided to eat the pain and not let it show. It could have something to do with the 20 or so other kids around the room laughing and joking, because who want’s to be the kid who starts bawling his eyes out when everyone else is having so much fun?

Why am I writing about this? Well, I guess as you get older life is constantly throwing you elbows to the gut. But you have to take it in stride. Roll with the punches as they say.