Running Head: Childhood Evaluation Essay Module 2 – Case Childhood Evaluation Essay Ian J. A. Troxell TUI University Childhood Evaluation Essay Deep inside every person’s heart, one’s own childhood know-how forges the most precious recollections one has. There could be just one or numerous past experiences, a myriad of rotating memories formed between childhood and adolescence, which make the two so memorable. For they give birth to life altering lessons about the human spirit. Depending on the nature of the experience, one’s limited world view, and maturity, each memory can be just as impressionable as the next, whether good or bad.
During my sixth year in school, I was generally solitary; I was the Belgian boy who spoke with a “funny” accent for my classmates were American. My lack of English speaking skills made it immensely tough for me to communicate with other students. Soon, I observed that being well liked was exceedingly important. I noticed that the kids who hung out at the basketball courts during lunch, smoking, taking street pharmaceuticals and break dancing were considered to be ‘popular’ while others, like me, were still trying to fit.
As time passed by, I got to know more kids who came from a more or less similar background as I did, and we became friends. For the first time, I really felt like I fit in. However, the good times did not last long. School bullies challenged the statue quo, in particular outsiders, as we were called, to fight if we did not give them our lunch money. The bullies were known for being a fierce and brutal band of thugs. One afternoon, I found myself their unassuming target. There I stood, fists clenched, ready to defend my self and stand up for all the unpopular kids.
My eyes fixated on the faces before me; although, I was ready to land a punch any time soon, my knees told the truth; they agitated wildly. My new found friends cheered me on as I continued to stand my ground. I heard, “Give them what they deserve! ” Just then, just as I believed I had a purpose, I was a savoir, ready to score one for the little guys, one of the bullies grabbed me by the neck and flung me into a locker. Dazed, but confident, I charged. Just then as I looked out of the corner of my eyes, I saw my friends running for their lives.
There I was squirming from the building pain and trying to rotate out of the vicious choke hold when at that very moment I wish I would have foreseen my friends fleeing from our fight for justice, for me. Betrayed and abandoned, I lost all resolve. The bullies could not hurt me anymore than my so called friends. I did my best to stave off the hurtful blows, but my effort was futile. The bullies, now empowered, pulled me across the floor, took my lunch money, and shoved me into a locker. I lain there subdued and dumbfounded from what happened.
When I went home that day, I thought about the occurrence and I assured myself that it was my obvious error and not my friends’ for what had happened. Maybe I was too eager to restore order or pay them back for making my life miserable? Maybe my friends were not the fools, I was? Maybe it was not so bad? Maybe the bullies were not that bad after all? Then it hit me like a flash of lightning, I was a scapegoat. My friends just used me to escape their own demise. They were quick to hale me as their knight in shining armour, but just as quick to throw me to the pack of wolves.
From this know-how, I learned that being a martyr comes with many responsibilities and consequences. At times, the choice is not necessarily beneficial. One must decide for himself what is worth fighting for and when to choose one’s own battles. Don’t be overly eager to set an example or use violence to solve issues. Just be yourself and bypass people who make you unhappy or quick to cheer you rather than fight for themselves. Naturally, you will not make everyone happy so do not let condemnations from other persons sway you.