The playground can be a rough place to hang out from both an emotional and physical standpoint. Alliances on the playground are formed and broken on a daily basis, which forces you to be on the constant lookout for someone looking to get you. I am a gregarious person that is welcomed by many cliques on the playground, which affords me countless opportunities to have fun. However, I recently received a reality check on my overall very positive self-perception that ended in a trip to the urgent care. While I waited in the urgent care waiting room, I reflected back on the series of events that spiraled out of control quickly, and I stubbornly acknowledged to myself that I was mostly at fault for all the issues that ultimately landed me at the urgent care.
It all started when a group of boys that would be categorized as the “rough crowd” were taking rocks they collected on the playground and dropping the rocks into the class fish tank when the teachers were not around. As I watched them drop rocks, I spoke up, expressing my concern that what they were doing was not a good idea. They expressed they did not like being told what to do, and I better shut my mouth and not tell anyone. It is ironic that as an amiable a person I for some reason cannot stand down when conflict arises; I always lean in when caution should be heeded. I withheld commenting further and went to do other things, but this was not my last stand. That evening I asked my father what I should do when I know others are being bad and I am not involved. My father paused for a minute thinking about the most appropriate response to balance ethics and reality. His advice, which he later modified, was that tattle tattling was not going to make me friends in the long-run. And that the number one important thing to know is when others are in the wrong and to not be involved. If necessary, you can speak up and share your reservations with those that are doing the bad acts to guide them in the right direction. But as a general rule he ended by saying, only tell an adult if someone or something was going to be harmed.
The next day the “rough crowd” collected rocks on the playground as they had done over the past few days and returned to the classroom and started dropping the rocks into the fish tank again. The rocks began hitting the glass tank, and I truly thought the rocks were going to break the glass. I debated if I should tell the teacher or not. I could not control my emotions any longer and went and told a teacher what the boys were doing. The teacher sprang into action and caught the boys red-handed. At first I had mixed emotions about telling the teacher; I was glad the fish tank would be saved, but I did not like the feeling of snitching on my friends. After being chided for their actions the boys came looking for me. I could see the betrayal in their eyes before they even said a word. They said they knew I was the person that told on them, and they vowed that they would get revenge. I took their comments as a very real threat but I was not going to tell the teacher as I had no true details to provide anyway. That evening I had a difficult time sleeping as my sole focus was on thinking about what and how they were going to get me. While eating breakfast the next morning I shared what I had done with my father. “Sounds like you ignored my advice,” he stated. I countered with, “I was worried about the fish tank”, which triggered him to raise his eyebrow in disbelief. He suggested that I speak with the kids and apologize but keep an eye out in case things go south fast. His advice was not encouraging, and it was sure not the panacea I was seeking.
When I arrived at school I went to patch things up the boys I had told on. The boys were surprisingly receptive to my apology, and I took it as things were all forgiven and no further grudges were going to be held. A few hours later I discovered their kindness was a ploy for me to let my guard down. The boys planned their attack and waited until I was at the top of the jungle gym to execute it that afternoon. Their plan was poorly executed as they all came screaming at me at once and tried to push me off the jungle gym. The loud voices altered me that they were coming, so I had a brief second to minimize the impact. I leapt to a lower level of the jungle gym but had nowhere else to go but off the jungle gym. I decided to take my fate into my own hands and jump before getting thrown off. As I jumped, I felt an ever so slight push on my back which propelled me further and faster than I was anticipating. One of the boys had reached me before I could make my great escape. I hit the ground with a thud and then rolled over in pain as the boys began to circle around me. The other boys were the first to notice that I was bleeding fairly severely from my forearm. Knowing they were likely going to get in trouble they were not quick to assist in helping me. With tears rolling down my face I slowly got to my feet and walked over to the playground supervisors to show them the damage. They immediately took me inside and called my parents. The school administrators questioned me on what had happened. I had learned from my experience that ratting people out was only going to lead to more trouble. So, I withheld parts of the story and said only that I fell (which was not a total lie).
When my father arrived at the urgent care, he had already developed a preconceived notion of the events that took place based on our breakfast conversation. When he entered the waiting area I perked up a little and stared at him for a second hoping to get a head node, a wink, or something as a sign of approval that I was tough, held my tongue and did tattle tale. After confirming I was OK, he gently shook his head in disbelief. He never knew where my pendulum of emotions was going to be swinging between kind kid and toughest kid on earth. As we sat in the waiting room of the urgent care, my father assured me I always had his approval as long as I was using good judgment. He then cautioned me, “Your severe competitive nature, which often leads to highly contested and sometimes combative situations, needs to be dialed back.” I leaned in closer to my father and said, “This is just me being me.” He continued shaking his head mumbling “indubitably, indubitably.”