The post I’m not writing

I would really like to blog about the fight that occurred in our gymnasium on Tuesday afternoon involving three 18 year old boys who started throwing punches over who could bench press the highest weight. I’d like to recount how a coach tried (unsuccessfully) to stop the fight by tripping the boys with a power cord, and how he eventually had to call the school resource officer (a county police officer “stationed” at the school). I’d love to tell you about how the SRO could not restore order with his mere presence and had to resort to pepper spray, and I’d love to tell you that in his haste he sprayed himself directly in the face and then just started spraying into the air around him in hopes of hitting one of the fighters. I’d like to describe the scene that ensued–how one of the culprits had to be detained by a fellow student, and how several coaches and students and the principal got pepper spray to the eye, and how two of the three fighters were running in circles punching air because they could not see but were so desperate to hit their marks anyway. And I’d like to tell you that when things finally calmed down, the three macho boys who started a riot over their weightlifting abilities were sobbing like babies in the assistant principal’s office because the pepper spray was burning their eyes.

I’d really love to give you a glimpse into the youth of America through the small window that is my school, but it’s not a good idea to write about your place of employment on the Internet. Jobs could be lost, heads could roll, and good heavens, let’s not lead people to believe that our schools are not perfect. I’d love to give you an earful. But I won’t.


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