Our Battle Field: Part Three: Bullying taken to a whole new level

I’m not sure if it’s the unseasonably warm weather (although it’s been admittedly on again off again) or if it’s something in the air, but something has been causing the citizens of our fair Cheerioville – especially in my neighborhood – to act especially crazy lately. I mean, we are talking about a whole new level of crazy.

That’s why I started the Our Battle Field series yesterday. This is Part Three. Please be sure to check out:

Part One: The Shooting


Part Two: A Boy on FOOT vs a CAR

Now that you’re all caught up, here is the second-to-last installment in the Our Battle Field series…

Part Three: Bullying taken to a whole new level

Yesterday afternoon I had just gotten home from Akron Children’s Hospital from spending the day hanging out with Gavin while he had his most recent round of IVIG infusion therapy for his immune disorder. We were supposed to have an appointment with Dr. Reynolds but he had to cancel because of his family emergency again so I took Gavin shopping, as promised and went home. No sooner did I get home then I had to get right back into the car to leave and pick Elliott Richard up from school.

I didn’t even get out of the neighborhood before drama struck again!

I got to the end of our street to find a group of 15-20 grade school kids (the local school district had just let out and the kids were walking home) in the intersection. Most of the kids appeared to be in 4th, 5th and/or 6th grade. With the exception of two little girls who couldn’t have been much older than Elliott Richard – so maybe 6 years-old and in Kindergarten or 1st grade. The older kids took these two little (let’s assume) 1st graders by the back of their heads and shoved them together!

Face-to-face – *smash*!

Then all of the older kids formed a very tight circle around the younger girls and began to chant “Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight!” over and over again. At first the little girls didn’t seem to want to fight and they just kept trying to push themselves away from each other.

While all of this was taking place – in the span of 1 minute, maybe 2 – I was on the phone with my Mom sitting at the stop sign directly in front of the kids. They didn’t even notice me. When they began to chant “Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight!” I got off the phone, threw my van in park and took off for the kids.

In the time it took for me to get off the phone – rather rudely (Sorry Mom!) – throw the van in park and take off across the street, the little girls had given in to the chants and began to wail on each other! Seriously, one little girl had the other by the roots of her hair. While she was getting her face scratched up something fierce.

Another lady had stopped her car at the same time and we both ran toward the kids screaming for them to stop while she worked to get half of the older kids away and I worked on the other half. Then we had to break up the fight itself. The older kids were so infuriating because when they realized that the other lady and I were coming to break it up, they changed their chant from “Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight!” to “Stop! Stop! Stop! Guys don’t fight! Come one, it’ll be okay!” Like they had nothing to do with shoving the girls together and instigating the whole scene in the first damn place!

I wasn’t having it! And I told them so.

I told them, “Shut the Hell up! I know what y’all did! I watched you start this fight before I could get out here. You aren’t innocent and changing your chant isn’t going to convince me otherwise!” At which point they said to me, “Shut up, b*tch! You don’t know what you’re talking about!” Then the other lady chimed in saying, “I saw the same thing. You kids are horrible!

So we broke up the fight and the kids began to disperse only by this point the girls were trying to kill each other in earnest – although I still don’t think they really knew why. Which posed a very different problem because the kids who had started the fight in the first place simply kept moving the location expecting that we would allow them to continue egging those poor girls on.

The other lady had been following them and breaking up the fights as they kids restarted them. I on the other hand called the grade school they came from and asked for the principal. She’s new a new transfer to this school from one of the other grade schools because she’s supposed to be so great and wonderful at her job. If this is what happens on the watch of “great and wonderful”, I’ll pass thanks. Especially when the receptionists told her what was going on and her response was, “It isn’t happening on school grounds so tell her to call the cops. *click*”


Your students have been off your grounds for less than 5 minutes and they are “dog fighting” with FIRST GRADERS and that’s your response????


So I did as she ordered. I called the police. And when the dispatcher asked what I expected and wanted to see happen, I told her.

“Realistically speaking, by the time you patrol car gets here those kids will be long gone. So what if, when the car gets here to find the kids gone it then turns around and drives the three blocks in the other direction and stops at the grade school they all came from? The officer could then speak with the principal about bullying, ways to stop bullying, how bullying really is her problem and how at least twice a week we deal with these same 15-20 kids from the same grade school pulling this crap. They do the same thing – pick to little kindergarteners or 1st graders and force them together until they fight – every time, either in front of my house, or down the alley in front of my house, or now in the intersection at the end of my street. It’s getting really old and hearing her say “It’s not my problem” is getting even older.”

At this point the dispatcher interrupted me and said, “Ma’am, did I hear you correctly? Did you say this happens at least twice a week???”

“Yes, ma’am, I did.”

“I’m so sorry. We had no idea things were that bad out there.”

“Thank you but you really have no idea.”

Then she asked for my name and phone number, although I don’t think she expected me to give it her. I did.


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Lizze Gorski


Lizze Gorski


Twitter: fibromamaby3



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