CHAPTER 24: FIRST DAYS BACK TO SCHOOL

Well, the first day of sixth grade was A LOT different from my last day of fifth grade. It was AWESOME! Where do I begin?

It all started in my math class. We had to take a timed test on the multiplication tables. We had fifteen minutes to do it. I was done in six minutes. And when I got done I went back and checked every answer. I knew them all 100 percent!

 

Right before recess, we had a “fitness baseline test” where we had to do two minutes’ worth of push-ups, two minutes of sit-ups, and, of course, one set of as many pull-ups as we could do. I did eighty-two push-ups, ninety-one sit-ups, and FOURTEEN PULL-UPS! Only one kid in my class did more than me, Taylor, who is super strong and did sixteen. But it was awesome. There were a couple of kids that remembered last year when I couldn’t do any. They were watching like hawks when I walked over to the bar, and I know they were waiting to make fun of me.

Instead, when I got done (beating both of them, by the way!), they asked how I did so many. I answered them in one word: “Practice.”

Soon after, the recess bell rang, and all the kids flooded the playground. I made my way over to the jungle gym. Of course, Kenny Williamson was there. The first day of school and he was already bullying people and not letting them on the jungle gym. It was just him and a few of his so-called friends hanging out there. A couple other kids were hanging around the border of the jungle gym, scared to go on it.

I wasn’t scared. I walked right over to it and up the stairs to the platform that leads to the monkey bars. I swung across the monkey bars, and when I got to the other side and dropped down, Kenny was standing and looking at me.

“What do you think you are doing, Marc?” he growled at me.

I acted really innocent. “Me? I’m going on the monkey bars,” I told him.

“You can’t go on the monkey bars. Those are my monkey bars. In fact, you can’t go on the jungle gym at all—THIS IS MY JUNGLE GYM,” Kenny said sternly as he stepped a little closer to me.

“This isn’t your jungle gym, Kenny. This is everyone’s jungle gym,” I responded in a calm voice.

I could tell this surprised Kenny. No one had ever questioned him before. He didn’t like it and told me, “NO, IT ISN’ T. This jungle gym is MINE. I am the king of the jungle gym.” A few other kids started to gather around to watch.

“No, Kenny. You are not the king of the jungle gym. Not anymore,” I told him. The other kids looked shocked at what I had said.

“You will see who the king is after I smash your little face,” Kenny said to me as he brought his hand up and closed his fingers into a fist. There were even more kids watching now, and you could hear a pin drop as everyone expected me to get crushed.

Then I got really serious. Super serious. The most serious I have ever been in my whole life. I had never felt this way before. I wasn’t angry, and I wasn’t even mad. But I was ready. All the training, all the jiu-jitsu, all the wrestling and sparring and pull-ups and working out. I knew 100 percent I was going to beat him. I stepped even closer to Kenny and said, “Go ahead and try, and I promise that you will never forget what I do to you.”

I was even a little surprised those words came out of my mouth. And it certainly surprised Kenny, too. I saw something change in his eyes. With all the training and sparring I had done, I now knew for sure that I could beat him in a fight—and now it seemed like he knew that, too. And I realized that in all those years of being bigger and stronger and meaner than all the other kids, no one had ever stood up to him—and he had never actually been in a fight. All of a sudden, he was scared. He put his hand down. He stepped back. He looked down at the ground and walked away. The crowd of kids let out a sigh. I turned around and jumped back on the monkey bars and made it back to the platform. I climbed to the next level. The other kids were all just standing there, looking at me. I waved my hands and told them to come on up. One kid did. And then another, and then another. Before long, kids were all over the jungle gym, playing, running, swinging. It was great.

Except Kenny. He was sitting by himself with his head hung low. Even the kids that usually followed him around were gone. Then I remembered one of the things I learned in jiu-jitsu and one of the things Uncle Jake taught me: Treat other people with respect. So I walked over to Kenny and said, “Hey, Kenny.”

He looked up at me and said, “Yeah?”

“The jungle gym is for everyone. ‘Everyone’ includes you. Come on.” I motioned with my head toward the jungle gym and turned and walked back toward it. After a few steps, I looked over my shoulder. Kenny was still sitting down, looking at me. I waved him over again. He didn’t move. So I smiled and waved him over again. He cracked a little smile, stood up, and started walking toward me. When he got close enough, I said, “I’ll race you to the monkey bars.”

He stood with a surprised look on his face until I said, “GO!” and we both started running.

He barely beat me there, and when I got to the top, he held up his hand for a high five.

Just like that, Kenny wasn’t the king anymore. And he also wasn’t a bully. Soon he was laughing and playing with the rest of the kids—he was now one of the kids.

It was only the first day of school, but I could tell this year was going to be the best year ever.