when push comes to shove…

grade 8

Ladies and gentlemen, I present my grade 8 class.

Before I begin my story and as you take a quick look at the picture above,

(yes it was the year parting your hair in the middle was the coolest thing ever.)

Here is my story…

Once a week our teacher booked the gymnasium after school for a friendly game of floor hockey.

It was always the boys against the girls

and Mr McDonald would play on the girls team to make things fair.

 (was he in if for a rude awakening!)

One boy in particular,

(and who shall remain nameless but I will refer to him as “R”)

would be better known as that crazy son of a fisherman.

(there is another word I would use, but this is a family show)

His idea of playing involved tripping or knocking down the girls who weren’t that athletic or a bit on the prissy side.

He relished in the whole idea and with every childish hit he became even more obnoxious

with a silly grin on his face each and every time.

This would infuriate me, and although I was a tom boy of sorts and not a big fan of the girls who didn’t have the guts to hit back,

I still found it so unfair because honestly, at least they would participate knowing they may even break a nail.

(this isn’t me, but you get the idea)

angry girl

On one specific day I usually played in net but I begged and pleaded with the teacher to play out,

(of course Mr McDonald had no idea of what my intention was)

As the game proceeded it seemed that every time R was on, I was on the bench watching and becoming completely pissed that he was getting away with his usual torment.

My blood was boiling and I had HAD enough!


It was time for me to take a stand

(or a fall depending on how successful I could be)

Sitting on the bench after my shift, I decided to approach the teacher and beg to go directly back out.

Of course Mr McDonald told me every one had to have their turn but thankfully one of those girls said she was tired and I could replace her.

Hot Damn!

It was time for me to make things right in the world

(or at least knock that silly smirk off Mr. R’s little face)

I shadowed him around like a lost little puppy and if truth be told,

if  I had a clear shot to score,

I wouldn’t have even noticed.

I had one job to do, and every hockey hit I had ever seen on TV was the only thing I had playing in my mind.

I had to be patient for the right time and be very sure that my timing was perfect.

Not to disappoint, and like the sky opened up,

I finally had the little bugger lined up and next thing I know…

hockey hit

I really don’t remember how it looked but the description my teacher gave to my Mother at parent/teacher interviews

the next week was something like,

“Kimmie is built like a brick shit house!”

Not to worry, there was no blood or broken bones but apparently I rattled his cage enough for him to see stars!

seeing stars

To date I believe the metal radiator casing on the wall of that gym still has the indent which was something Mr McDonald was kind of proud to display to all the other teachers at the school.

Now don’t get me wrong, I am not condoning physical retaliation,

and it is not my nature to hit anyone ever,

but something inside me that day

brought out my inner battle voice.

I have always cheered for the underdog and regardless of who I have to battle,

there is one thing to always keep in mind.

No one has any right to hurt or humiliate anyone,

and if I happen to be a witness to any of it,

you can bet your ass…

I am coming off that bench!

Oh and FYI:

I still watch hockey 😉

That is all for today.

Make it a great day everybody!


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