Education has always been important in my whole extended family. Before the earliest memories I have, I am told, my mother and father used to read to me every night before going to sleep. My family has a broad background in books with my father working atthe local library. My father loved books, in every way I can think. He loved to read them, as did the rest of my family.What I remember of him is pleasant. My mom stayed at home with my sister and me. It was just the three of us. My older two brothers and sister had grown and lived on their own, so my mother, sister, and I existed in isosceles-type equilibrium.Our life however entirely changed after I got enrolled in high school. Tragedy struck me forcing my family and I to move since we could no longer live in the same neighborhood.

While growing up, children were only aware of four careers, and they rose black like totems against the distant horizon. Supposing youth ever did wane and, improbably, we did morph into adults someday, the only things we thought of being policemen, firemen, doctors, or lawyers. I liked the first two options. You know, usual schoolboy fantasies. Most people in our small town in Texas were farmers, but my family lived in the urban area. My mother seemed ideal to me as a boy, like some incarnation of justice always making sure we knew right from wrong. My sister was more someone to play alongside than playing with her. She was interested in dolls, and I preferred trucks, hoops, or hunting, yet the two of us were still close.At one time, my father wondered to a local library to check if they had a book sale. They did indeed have a book sale, and he bought quite many books from their shelves. Soon he became a volunteer, and then the organizer, and soon had his key to the library. As the relationship between my father and I continued to grow, I started going with him to the book sale. I loved reading, and I helped him a little also. We discovered that the special semiannual book sale was coming up. I came with my dad that morning, and we began carrying boxes of books out to the tables. My father made me love education even before I started schooling. That was the kind of family where I was brought up.

I started school at six, and I loved it. Knowledge wasn’t something I had to keep tilling and poking and prodding around to obtain. It opened itself up to me like a treasure chest with a rusted lock, dousing me with imaginary numbers, obelisks, kingdoms, codes, runes, poems, obscure words, treaties, promises, and dreams. I loved math, literature, and history. I read on my own when I could spare the hours, but back then we were always trying to get something to expand and grow—a garden, an animal, something that in future seasons colored gilt or jade could be eaten, could give us life. I was valedictorian during my senior class. Do not ask me what I spoke. I cannot even recall what i would talk about. There are ten million words, memories, moments I would give you willingly if I could place them in the right order, summon them to the surface of my mind, but age can hide eras and seconds under leaves, lock them in gardens, shut them up in closets, and bind them to the shadows.

I had no idea that all my beliefs about education would change forever when I joined high school. The first day was the most hectic with all the formalities of the admission process. I had heard stories about bullying by the senior students by thought it was just rumored to scare the junior students. For many of us, high schoolmemories are the best we have had so far in our lifetime. However, my memories are not among the best encountered. In my first day at the school, every other student noted that I was new in the school. I had to ask for directions and assistance in opening the book lockers. It was in the process of looking for help that I met John who later became my best friend. At least he saved my first day.

Bullying was a common thing in the school primarily for reserved individuals like me. Everyone mistook my silence for fear and cowardice. My first few days went well until when the most famous football player Tyler came to notice my presence in the school. I was walking by the football pitch after school admiring the neatly mowed grass. The contours on the lawn were uniform just like on a woven mat. I got so lost in my thoughts that I did not hear Tyler and other team members shouting out to me. In the ocean of my dreams, I had missed my steps and got into the pitch. I was walking with my eyes fixed on the short grass on the ground. Tyler and his boys interpreted my lack of response as rudeness and decided to hit me with the ball. Luckily, I saw the ball coming towards me through the edge of my eyes and quickly caught it. I threw it back and got out of the pitch.

However, I heard footsteps behind me. It was Tyler coming towards me accompanied by three other boys. Tyler asked, “hey new boy, where do you think you are going?” I replied that I was headed home and continued to walk away after sensing the hostility in the air. One boy pulled my backpack saying “not so fast.” In all my life I hated bullying like racism. I felt agitated by the mistreatment they were beginning to give me. However, I was gripped with fear since they were all athletes and therefore stronger than me. I pulled myself together and asked what they wanted from me. Tyler said they were going to teach me a lesson and suddenly they started beating me up. I tried to fight back, but they overwhelmed me. I was rescued by my friend John who saw the commotion while in the baseball court.

Anger had built up inside me, and I wanted to revenge. I could not hold it anymore, so I let the anger control me. Therefore, I took a piece of wood lying on the terrace and hit Tyler on the back hard enough that he fell then ran away. I felt relieved that I had paid back for the harassment he caused on me. I went home feeling proud that I had stood up for myself and hit one of the football players bullying me. However, I was afraid that they would attack me the next day at school. I was, however, looking forward to living a free life in the school not knowing the vast wave coming my way.

In the evening my parents received a call from the school informing them that I had been involved in a fight and caused an injury on another student. The school required my parents to accompany me the next day to school. However, that never happened for the police arrived just as the call ended and I got arrested for violence. All this was a surprise to my parents for I had never involved myself in a fight since my childhood. The failure to report to the school with my parents resulted in my expulsion which marked the end of my education. I had caused Tyler a back injury which made him ousted from the football team as he was unfit. The judge was lenient with me given that I was a juvenile and had no prior criminal record or lousy behavior reported. He, therefore, sentenced me into one month probation period.  However, my parents, specifically my father were very disappointed in me.

In the neighborhood we lived, all the children went to the same school I went to. The news of the incidence spread in almost the whole town, and therefore everyone ridiculed us. My parents lost their friends as well as my sister. I had cost them their social life. Consequently, we had to move to another town where my father would look for another job. Similarly, my sister and I would transfer to a new school. However, I felt fed up with schooling after the bullying incidence. However, on telling my father that I never wanted to go to school anymore, he said: “you are the greatest disappointment in this family.” These words pierced through my ears like a sword. Up to date, I have not forgotten my father’s statement.

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