I remember the first time I threw a punch.
I was in the lunch line in third grade, and a kid in my class, Will, called me a
kike.
For those unfamiliar with the term's usage, calling a Jewish person a kike isn't wildly dissimilar from calling a person of African descent the n-word.
I kept my cool at first. After all, I was an unusually small kid at that age. Will was significantly bigger than me.
"Will, that's a terrible word. Please take it back."
"No."
"Will, I'm asking you again- take it back."
"No."
I took a deep breath.
"One last time. Take it back, Will."
"N..."
As his mouth moved to shape the last "no," my right fist came across his jaw and he dropped to the floor on his backside, looking up at me in shock and disbelief.
I hadn't planned on doing it and didn't make a conscious decision about it. It just happened.
I remember distinctly realizing that the sound effect on TV when someone gets punched is meant to replicate the sound of
skin slapping on skin. This hadn't occurred to me previously.
I looked at Will, on his butt on the floor in the hallway outside the cafeteria, and walked away. None who witnessed this told on me. I never mentioned it to my folks.
Seven years later, I was outside my high school in a physical education class when Will passed by me. I was still short for my age. I had asthma. I had glasses. I had a reputation of being an odd little nerd. Will was quite popular.
"Hi Dave."
"Hey Will."
"Hey- do you remember in third grade when you clocked me?"
"Yep."
"I just wanted to say: I totally had it coming." He smiled.
I smiled back. "Yes, you did. Thanks, Will."
Will nodded and jogged away.
I'm grateful I grew up surrounded mostly by midwestern Lutherans. They had a very live-and-let-live attitude and did not teach their children anti-semitic beliefs or behaviors. I realized that the reason Will hadn't told on me was that, if he had, his parents would've heard what provoked me...and they'd have been furious. Will didn't call me a kike because he was an anti-semite. He called me a kike because kids can be mean and pick on any differences they can identify.
Growing up, I encountered a lot of insensitive or ignorant remarks that I learned to respond to with civility and education. For example, when I was asked why Jews didn't believe in God, I explained that, actually- God was our idea and that Jesus was Jewish.
The high schools kept scheduling homecoming on the Jewish
High Holidays and my mother was quite active with the school board to change that. She explained that such scheduling forced Jewish students to choose between their families and their secular lives- and that this was unfair. The school board eventually agreed to obtain a hebrew calendar from the local synogogue at the beginning of each year and avoid scheduling events on Jewish holidays.
(Footnote: Years later, our town received a great number of new residents from southeast Asia and the schools repeatedly scheduled events on their most important holidays. My mom went back to the school board to say that this was the same problem and it needed resolution. Someone on the school board actually said to her: "But...you're not Vietnamese!" My mother replied: "Wow, you *really* don't get it, do you?")I grew up believing in the importance of the separation of Church and State. When my high school was filled with Christmas decorations, I complained to the principal. I was told that these decorations were not paid for with tax dollars, but were student-initiated. I thought this over and informed the principal that I would be putting up student-initiated flyers to remind my fellow students that December 26th was "International Worship of Satan Day."
