At Bear’s afternoon childcare there is a bully (call him Pete). He’s far bigger and a few years older than the kids he picks on. Pete is in 4th grade. He wears a mowhawk, sassy slogans on all his shirts. He is verbally and physically mean to younger kids.
I take a few unicycles into Bear’s afternoon childcare once a week and the kids who are interested can ride and I coach them. There are about 6 kids who love it and always give it their all. Pete stands back with his arms crossed saying loudly,
" I learned how to to that when I was little. It’s easy. " And then he laughs and teases everytime some one falls. Fortunately the choir of “Nice try!” from the other kids drowns out his mocking.
Every week Pete has been a little bit more curious about the unicycling; standing closer, and longer silence between his boasts and laughter. This week he got his confidence up and swaggered up to me.
“When is it my turn?”
I found him a place in line, he waited while toning down his boasts some to,
“I only got about 5 feet before I decided to stop,” all the kids knew he was bluffing so it was a moot point. Pete’s turn came up. Helmet on, he puts on his best air of false confidence. Seat between legs. Hands on railing. Foot on lower pedal and CRASH! In a heap.
He looked up with a shameful sour face only to hear the other kids’ hearty congratulations. “Great try Pete!” “Way to go!” “Nice try!” For the first time I had ever seen, the bully facade was off. A light giggle came forth from his big toothy grin.
“May I please try again!?!” he asked, and he did.
