2nd grade. Only one word I can use to describe it: horrid. A bunch of people pushed me around, called me names, made fun of me and stole my stuff. And the rest of the grade was either getting bullied theirselves, or just standing by, watching. The principal and teachers didn't even do anything about it. That was the worst part. There was no adults to help me. I considered going to the police, because the physical bullying got worse because I didn't stand up to them. Instead of the bullies just shoving me against walls when passing by, they pushed me onto the floor and started kicking me. This was when the whole thing turned. I went to the nurse with bruises all down both sides of my torso. After getting out of the nurse and not even getting to go home to relax, I was furious, so I ran across the school to the new teacher that was supposed to be a guidance counselor or something. Most people called him the "Teacher who helps with bullying". He taught classes to the 3rd and 4th graders about bullying, but I was still a grade under 3rd, so I couldn't take his classes. I told him everything, and he just listened. He just let me vent. And after venting, he asked how I felt, and I said something like "I feel like I'm nothing. Like I have no reason to be here." We started listing out ways to stop the bullies, and then it was time to leave school, so we stopped there.

Next Day

Right when I got into school I checked into my room then went to the Bullying Teacher's room. We finished working on the list, then we went to work. I used a bunch of strategies in the halls and at lunch and recess, but they were useless. The bullies continued to hurt me, physically and verbally. I went back to that teacher after recess (and after stopping at the nurse because they physically hurt me again) and told him that the plan didn't work. So at that point, not only was I fed up, but so was he. So we walked down to my room, and I pointed to all the bullies in the room. He told them to step outside and wait in the hall. Then we went to the other three 2nd grade classrooms and I pointed out all the bullies. Once all the bullies were in the hallway, the teacher started talking to them. He practically yelled at them, asking why they needed to hurt me so badly. They all just thought I stood out too much from the group, all because I was a girl that acted like a guy by dressing like one, playing video games 24/7, doing guy things, etc. I was hurt by this, because they didn't like who I was. The teacher made them apologize, and it became better. They didn't bully me anymore (mostly because the bullying teacher was always watching me, making sure I was ok and that I wasn't getting bullied anymore) and my bruises healed. One part wasn't ok about this: my parents never knew. They still don't know to this day. I always told them that my bruises were from softball, falling, and playing in the woods. And I'm ashamed of not telling them first. I just don't wanna tell them now because it's in the past, and I don't want my parents to worry that it'll happen again someday. That I will be bullied as bad as that once again. But none of the kids that bullied me in 2nd grade has bullied me since, and I'm nearing the end of 6th grade right now. The power that one teacher had, it still amazes me to this day. I'm extremely grateful for that teacher, or I might've not been here to share this.