Who's in your Facebook?

What does it say about your school days when you're a fan of Facebook and finding old friends, but that you'd rather not look up your old classmates? Or if you do find them, that you'd rather not send them a Friend request.

Yeah, there's a handful of people that I still (sort of) keep in touch with from decades gone by, and there's probably a few others that I'd consider sending a Friend request if I found them, but when I think back on my school days, and think of my classmates of yesteryear, most of them can pretty much go fuck themselves.

It occurs to me that I'm letting my son down, perhaps, by not being the father to him that my father was to me. Then again, my son is growing up in a far different world than that in which I grew up.

I don't recall when or how it started but my father taught me how to fight from a very early age. We'd wrestle on the living room floor and I'd try my hardest to beat him. Picture a 6 y/old using all his strength against a grown man. I learned how to slip holds, apply arm bars and hammer locks, how to endure pain (& lack of oxygen) while working out an escape plan. That was one of the lessons my father taught me.

Later when I went to school I joined the kids on the playground in the mock battles that kids in schools in most countries around the world probably hold. Picture an 8 y/old well versed in wrestling, and used to using every last ounce of his strength in an effort to overcome a much larger, far stronger opponent, suddenly taking on kids his own size. In my naivety I had no idea that I was one of the toughest kids in school. If my school had had a wrestling team, I'd have probably kicked arse.

I had a blast wrestling with all of the other boys, but apparently they didn't have as much fun wrestling with me. I was devastated the day one of my friends stopped me from joining one of our battles, telling me I was too rough, that the other kids didn't want me to take part. Thinking back, I'm surprised I never seriously hurt anyone. I never actually became The Toughest Kid in School because while I love wrestling, I hate fighting. I'd talk my way out of most fights if I could, and if I couldn't, rather than fight back I'd just try to stop my opponent from hurting me.

I recall during one Physical Education (Gym) class we were playing a game of baseball. I was one of the basemen. One of the more athletic guys (who was considered one of the toughest kids in school) made a good hit and rounded the bases, stopping at mine. He then tried to be intimidating and shove me off the base. I resisted so he threw a mock punch at my face. I caught his fist and twisting it, applied a standing Arm Bar, then used that leverage to drive him face first (literally) into the ground. Then I let go.

He jumped up and called out to the P.E. Teacher, "Did you see that?"

The P.E. Teacher had seen it, as did probably everyone present, because he was umpiring the game and so watching the action very closely. So not only had our Teacher seen me drive this guy into the ground, he'd seen him shove me first, then throw a punch at my face. I forget exactly what he said but he clearly felt my schoolmate got exactly what he deserved.

One time I was given Out in a game of Cricket when I accidentally played the ball back onto my own wicket. Given the budget of our public school we just used one-piece, solid metal wickets with the bails welded on top, instead of the 5-piece wooden wickets used in most games. After I struck it, the ball slowly rolled backwards along the ground and tapped the metal wickets behind me. The guy playing Keeper appealed and our Teacher declared me Out. I was a bit ticked at this, and let out an incredulous yell "What?!" because I didn't believe the ball had struck the wickets hard enough to dislodge the bails. Yes, they were one-piece metal wickets, so the bails couldn't be dislodged, but my opinion is that had the wickets been made of wood, the bails would have remained atop the wickets.

My classmates were quite amused by my yelped "What?!" and most likely mistook it for confusion on my part, thus implying ignorance of the rules of Cricket. School kids love to make fun of kids who aren't as smart as them, so I was the brunt of much teasing in the locker room after the game. I sat there in raging silence, getting madder and madder as my schoolmates kept up their incessant teasing, and eventually I felt my top lip begin to quiver and curl up in an unmistakable snarl. I tried to stop it but with my schoolmates relentless teasing that was impossible.

When my schoolmates saw my lip begin quivering it then became the focus of the teasing, until they realized it was not the quivering lip of someone almost in tears but the snarling lip of someone trying very, very hard not to kill someone. And so they stopped teasing me, all but the one kid who'd been the Keeper, so everyone literally piled onto him to make him shut up. Which is kind of funny, now that I think about it. They were having lots of fun teasing me, but when they realized how far they'd gone, and that I was desperately trying to hold back the green machine they quickly shut up, and were equally quick to shut down the one guy who didn't want to stop.

They had no qualms with teasing me to the point of what they thought were tears, but when it became obvious that I was actually getting really pissed off, they stopped. Some of who were considered the toughest kids in school were willing to tease me up until it looked like I was going to fight back, and then they stopped. Looking back on this, I think I probably had a reputation as someone who wouldn't fight back (in fact I lost the fights I did get into because I wouldn't fight back), but I think everyone also remembered that I was the one who'd been asked not to take part in the playground battles. It's possible that everyone was a little bit scared of me, of what I could do if I ever got really mad and fought back. They were more than happy to tease me, and tease me they did, but only up to a certain point.

Years later, while I was working on the Census, I ran into one of the guys who'd teased me that day. He invited me into his apartment and offered me a cold drink and we sat down and chatted and reminisced about the old days. He was living with one of his oldest friends and the two of them worked shift-work at the local Mill. They hadn't seen any of the old gang for 10 years or more. Come to think of it, at that time, neither had I.

I was born and raised in a small country town in rural Victoria, Australia. We were just like the kids in most small country towns here in the U.S., most of us wanted to graduate High School and get into college so we could get the hell out of town and never have to go back except to visit our parents. We've moved on, created a new life for ourselves, made new friends. And only occasionally do we ever think back on the people we grew up with, and wonder where they are and what they're doing now. But usually we don't waste too much time on those thoughts, and in some cases we conclude that look back at our childhood days with the simple thought, "Fuck 'em!"