Leave Him Alone, Frog!

I try to teach my students courage. Specifically, I hope they will find the courage to stand up for the downtrodden, the outsider, the bullied. Sometimes I tell them about Sean.

I was an outsider in ninth grade. My one close friend, cruelly nicknamed Pumpkinhead (I have written about him here), was my friend because we had our outsider status in common. The previous year we had not spoken to each other because we had different best friends. I remember standing on the playground with my best friend and making fun of Pumpkinhead and his best friend with my best friend and feeling secure that we were better than them. At the end of eighth grade, Pumkinhead's friend left the school; my friend left the school too. As the only outsiders left, we found ourselves forced together by fate.

While Pumpkinhead and I spent most of our freshmen year throwing rocks at each other, I also found the time to learn a lesson in courage. Our ninth grade class was in the same PE class with the eighth grade. Most of the classes involved wrestling, basketball, and softball. One of the eighth graders was named Sean. I am sure that he too had a cruel nickname, but it eludes me at the moment.

Sean was shorter than average, stunted in growth, and possessed long, thin arms. His eyes were large and bulbous. His ears were impressive wings that always seemed to be clogged with a generous portion of wax. He was not merely the outsider of his class, but also of the school. He talked to no one. I don't remember him ever saying a word to me or anyone else. Various tales circulated concerning his level of intelligence, and some said that one or both of his parents had died. His head was permanently bowed, his eyes aimed only at his feet; this was not caused by any physical infirmity, but by an unwillingness to meet anyone's eyes with his own.

His lack of coordination, strength, and speed, and his body were sources of constant jokes at PE. It wasn't the insiders that mocked him; they were too important to be bothered by one so low. It was those on the periphery of the insiders that picked on Sean in hopes of capturing the attention of the insiders.

One of these insiders was Frog. Frog had come to school in the middle of the semester. Mrs. Plopper brought him by to introduce him to the class. We saw a curly-blonde head stick quickly into the door, blink, and then pop back out again. I think everyone had the same thought at the same time: "Frog." I don't remember his real name, but I shall forever remember those blinking eyes under a pile of curls. We had a nickname for him before we learned his real name.

Frog was a desperate wannabe. He didn't seem to understand that he could never be a true insider. He was cruel to Sean.

One day at dinner I mentioned to my family that Sean was being continually picked on by my class members. My older brother (a senior) wanted names. I reluctantly gave him a name and the next day my brother gave him a black eye. After that, I determined to never again use someone as a proxy in a fight that I should be fighting.

The next day at PE, Frog was ruthlessly mocking Sean during basketball. I knew what I had to do. With my heart beating so hard that I thought I was going to throw-up, I waited for Frog to lash at out Sean again. When he did, I lashed back with all of the power I could, "Leave him along, Frog!" All of my own years of pain as an outsider were put into the loathing that I put into the word, "Frog."

All three of us stopped running down the court. I was sure that Frog was going to beat me up. He just gave me a startled look, turned, and went down the court. Sean looked me in the eye. It was the first time he had ever looked me in the eye. I don't know what he was saying with his eyes. It seemed to be a mix of shock that someone would stand up for him, gratitude, an question asking what took so long, and a deep sadness.

Maybe he knew that I was, at heart, a coward. I left school that day proud of my accomplishment and sure that I would soon be able to stamp out injustice at my school. I never again stood up for him. For that I am forever shamed.

My shame does not end there. That summer, Pumkinhead's family was caught in a home fire. His parents and baby sister were killed, and his home destroyed. I heard about it on the news and read about it in the paper. I never tried to contact him though I knew I should.

Several years ago, I saw a wedding announcement for Pumpkinhead in the paper. It sounded like he was doing well. I hope he is having a good life. After ninth grade, I never saw Sean again.


Peace

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