poetry. thoughts and more than make-believe.

Thursday, September 22, 2011

Breaking up an afternoon fight

I was downstairs, sitting quietly, reading the best teen book I've read for abit (Delirium) when a few of the after school kids came down to play on the computers and draw.  Almost everyday there's a group of 5-10 kids who decided last year that this was going to be their hangout.  Fine.  After 19 years, I've seen kids come and go, some needing us more than others...this is one of those groups.  The thing about this group--they're loud.  Obnoxious. Language.  It's been a test of wills.  I usually have to be more of a mom, than a friend--which I find comfort in that I can do that readily.

Today one of the boys asked if another boy had been in...
Nope.
Boy 1 was glad boy 2 had not been in, he said boy 2 was being a jerk.
They're middle school, so they're always mad at each other--but the next day they may love each other.

Fast forward an hour later and I'm walking out a back entry way, able to see down the hall where the kids congregate around the computers.

Boy 2 is being tough to boy 1 on the computer.
Boy 1 doesn't want to fight.
I said to the woman next to me, "I don't think this is good. Boy 2 wants to fight."
As if it's slow motion,  boy 2 pokes boy 1, trying to start a fight.  Boy 1 tries to ignore him.

One of my co-workers was out there, but I didn't see her from my view.
Within seconds boy 2 lunges at boy 1, lifted him from his seat, trying to do a throw down.

I heard the woman next to me say, "Call the police."
I am a woman/mom on a mission. 

By the time I got to the doorway, boy 2 has managed to start thumping boy 1, with all the friends trying to stop boy 2 and kinda cheering the FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT energy in the area.

I had a fleeting thought of, I could accidently get hit, but that didn't stop me from slamming open the door, with my most bellowing mom voice "GET OUT OF HERE RIGHT NOW"...right into boy 2's eyes.

He respects me generally.
I don't think he knew I was there.
I wonder if I had been on desk if it would've even transpired?
He flew up the steps.
I checked in with boy 2.

He was fine--just shaken up.  He's not a fighter--he told me he was there to defend the girl that boy 2 was supposedly going to start a fight with.
What?

Sigh.
The police show up and take the boys stories. 

I am shaken up.
I am not surprised at their fighting, but fighting rocks me to the core.
Though I'm mostly zen, I am a fighter.
Maybe that's why.
Maybe I'm upset because during my mom-yelling, I have the fight in me...I feel it deep inside and it scares me.
I realized through this, I suppress this fire. Agni. I don't need to fight and I don't want to see people fight.
It usually makes me cry.
And these kids--the ones that have had a hard short life--are most likely going to have a hard longer life if someone doesn't care.
I know I can't save the world.
Or the kids of the world.
I just want to know their cared for...

Om.

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