A Time to Fight

This morning, I am thinking about the time I had a fight with the bus driver on the way to school. He was a big bully of a man who seemed to take pleasure in his power to intimidate, often threatening to use his belt on terrified riders. I was only about 8 or 9, but that day it didn't matter. He was threatening MY little brother, and I wasn't going to have it. He had pulled the bus over and was walking down the aisle, but I jumped out of my seat to block his path. He barked at me to get out of his way. I didn't comply. When he reached out to move me, it was on! I latched on to his shirt with one hand and took a swing with the other. He shook me loose, retreated to his seat, and drove the
bus-load of cheering children to my mother's job where he recounted my act of defiance and showed her the scratch I had left on the side of his face. I was so afraid that I would be in big trouble with my father, but I wasn't...he was actually proud of me. Reflecting on that day, I gain insight into my calling to fight to defend disadvantaged students (my little brothers and sisters) against the educational inequities that threaten their future. I may not be using my fists, but I am latching on and swinging in other ways. Sometimes I've been that afraid I might get in trouble, but today I feel my Father saying, "I'm proud of you."

Original post date:  July 17, 2012