Dorsai - The Second Generation

I have a sister, Janet Kelly, who's named after our Moms best friend, Janet, and our mom, Kelly. I just call her 'Sis', though she calls me "Danny". I say "our mom", but when we were growing up, we actually had six women that helped raise us. There was our biological Mom, Kelly, and five friends of hers and Dads: Jan, Robyn, Susan, Sandra, and Candice. Those five friends were so much a part of our lives growing up that Sis and I grew up calling them "Momma ". Then, on top of all of that, there were a few years where we had another of Mom and Dads friends watching out for us -" a girl from the Philippines by the name of Marilyn, whom we loved as much as any of the others. You might think that growing up with all these different people around, we'd have gotten confused, or think that none of them actually cared for us -" but that's not how it was. Even when we were little, me and Sis, we knew that we'd get the same treatment from any one of them about anything: whether it was a scraped knee, or one (or both) of us had done something we shouldn't, Sis and I knew that the one dealt with it would do pretty much the same thing as any one of the others. That fact was further reinforced the one time we tried to play one of them off against the others: we'd asked Jan if we could do something, and when she told us 'no', we went off to ask Sandra -" who told us 'yes'. It never occurred to Sis and me that they might actually compare notes, so when it came out what we'd done, the resulting punishment pretty well cured us of trying it again. When we got a little older, Sis and I were actually surprised when we learned that other kids didn't have that many people to turn to -" and even felt sorry for them. Being brother and sister, and learning what we did from Dad and Mom and all the rest, Sis and I got along pretty good the whole time we were growing up; we shared secrets, went on adventures together, usually got into trouble together, all of it. Sure, each of us had our own friends, too -" but were perfectly willing to spend time with each other. But the single most significant figure in our lives growing up was our Dad. It wasn't until later in our lives that Sis and really understood just how lucky we were to have him. No matter what he was doing, no matter the time of day, no matter what it was, we didn't have a doubt in the world that we could go to Dad and have his full, undivided attention for whatever it was we needed or wanted him for. We weren't afraid to ask him any question, there wasn't anything we weren't willing to talk to him about. We knew that whatever questions we had, Dad would give us the best answer he had -" and if he didn't know the answer, he'd admit it and find the answer with us. We knew that he wasn't going to lie to us, or make promises he couldn't or wouldn't keep, or anything like that -" which only made us trust and believe the things that he did say. It was like that with all of them, and particularly Mom but most of all with Dad. I still remember when, in Sixth grade, one of the kids in class started picking on me. He was bigger than I was, and I was reluctant to fight back: after an incident in First grade, Dad had told me that I shouldn't get into fights with other kids.

Dad (or Mom, or any of them) never hit me or Sis; even the few spankings we got when we were little were pretty short and mild. It was the way all of them talked to us and treated us that made me and Sis want to stay out of trouble, and sorry for it when we got into trouble anyway.

The other kid -" Tommy was his name -" kept after me and after me, always finding ways to mess with me: stepping on the back of my shoe so that my heel slipped out, tripping me on the playground, punching me when he thought no one was looking, stuff like that. I know that our teacher, Miss Hampton, saw him doing stuff to me a few times, and I even said something to her about it once, but she never made him stop. Finally, one day, Tommy did something, and I decided that I wasn't going to put up with it any more -" so I knocked him down and started beating on him. Of course, it didn't take long before Miss Hampton saw what I was doing, but I still managed to hurt Tommy and make his nose start bleeding before Miss Hampton and one of the other teachers got me off of him. From there, it was off to the Principals office, where I had to sit outside while they called Mom and Dad. Tommy came in a few minutes later, with a start on one Hell of a shiner, after the school Nurse took care of his bloody nose. I figured I was going to be in trouble with Dad for getting into a fight -" but, boy, was I wrong! When Dad got there, they had me sit in the room, too, while they told Dad what happened. Dad sat real quiet while they talked, and I could see that he was listening to them the same way he listened to me and Sis: paying complete attention to what the Principal and Miss Hampton were telling him. When they were done, he asked

"Have either of you asked him why?"

The Principal told Dad that it didn't matter, but Dad told him

"Maybe not to you, but it does to me" before turning his head to ask me "Son, why were you beating up that other boy?"

I told him about how Tommy kept doing stuff to me, and when he asked, told him how long it had been going on, too. Then he asked if I'd told anyone about it, and I said that I had -" to Miss Hampton, even though she'd seen Tommy hit me a few times. When Dad looked at the Principal and Miss Hampton again, both of them looked kind of scared before Dad asked Miss Hampton

"Is what he said correct? That you've seen this Tommy bothering him? And that he told you about what was going on?"

Miss Hampton kind of stammered a little while she said that she had, and that I had. Then Dad looked at the Principal and asked

"Why did you even call me in here, then? Didn't you bother to find out what the hell was going on before you decided my son was guilty? Was it too much trouble for you to ask his teacher what she knew? Or to try to learn what prompted the fight?"

The Principal tried to tell Dad that none of that mattered -" that all he cared about was that I'd been in a fight with another boy, and hurt him.

Without raising his voice, Dad just told him

"Good! Maybe getting hurt will teach the little bastard not to mess with other kids! Is the boy I saw outside the one?" The Principal said that that was Tommy, and Dad said "That boy is a quarter again the size of Daniel. So after his teacher ignored the bullying by a larger kid, then didn't pay any attention even after Daniel brought the problem to her attention, now you're going to get your knickers in a bunch? I don't think so! My son has tolerated being bullied by a bigger kid despite his teacher knowing about the problem and being reminded of it. You heard him yourselves: it wasn't until today, several weeks after it started, that he decided that he didn't want to be pushed or hit any longer and took matters into his own hands because he didn't think anyone else was going to do anything about it. If the problem got bad enough that that was the only recourse my son felt was left to him, you are not going to punish him for your delinquencies."

The Principal tried to tell Dad that the school had a 'no tolerance' policy towards violence -" but Dad interrupted to tell him

"No tolerance, my ass! If your policy was really 'No Tolerance', the the first time this person had seen the other kid hit my son, you'd have had his parents in here then, instead of me, now. If you're not going to enforce a 'policy' quickly and consistently, then there is no 'policy' to be enforced, and you've got no right to claim one."

Miss Hampton started looking worried, but the Principal told Dad that no matter how much he protested, I was going to be sent home for 3 days. Dad got an expression on his face I'd never seen before -" the Principal and Miss Hampton both turned real pale before he told them