I can honestly say that I fought dozens of kids, both in school and out, over the years.
I switched schools three times before high school, and it seems there were always kids at the new school that wanted to test the new kid.
I had grown up in a smallish suburb of Portland, and it was a lower middle to lower lower class part of town at the time. Fighting is what we did. Even the games we played were violent. They often escalated to fights. I fought with my brothers, the neighborhood kids, and the kids at school too. But, they were usually very short, and when someone said enough it was over. I was sent to the principles office
many times.
When I was in third grade, I was transferred to my second school. It was in a more affluent neighborhood. The resident bully targeted me almost immediately, and I whipped him pretty good. He made me angry enough to do so by stabbing me in the leg with a very sharp pencil. A teacher eventually pulled me off of him, and that was my first experience with the new principle, and old lady named Percy Miles. She had a ping pong paddle that she used to administer punishment, but I thought it was a joke. I had zero fear of it. The fights continued.
By fourth grade, they decided to bring in a psychologist to see why I was so violent. That basically discovered that there was nothing psychologically wrong with me, I was just a mean little tough kid. Not a bully, but would not back down from a fight. And by now, there were not too many kids that wanted to try. That changed in fifth grade, when forced integration was introduced.
Up until then, I had only known a couple of black kids, and had never fought one. There just weren't any in the schools I attended or my neighborhood. But now there were, bus loads of them. I had no animus for them, I was actually curious. It became clear that was not reciprocal.
There was one black kid named Gary Washington. He was in my class, and sat next to the pencil sharpener. Every day when I went to sharpen my pencil, he would look at me and say 'Yo mama". I had no idea what he meant. But after a week or so, I replied "Yeah, yo mama too."
Tony flew out of his chair and punched me in the face before I even knew what was happening! I had no idea I had just hurled a mortal insult, so I was not on guard or prepared. Blood started gushing from my bottom lip, and it was on! The teacher broke it up pretty fast, but not before I had rammed Tony's head into the wall, which cut his forehead. He was sent to the school nurse, and I was sent to the principles office.
This happened about an hour before school let out. The black kids were released half an hour earlier so they could load up the busses and clear the parking lot before the other parents came to pick up their kids. As soon as they were released, every black kid in the school congregated outside the principles office foyer, waiting for me to come out so they could gang stomp me. The office had a lower level of windows in the hallway of privacy glass, with clear windows above. When I peered over the privacy glass, they all started making threatening gestures and yelled about how they were going to kick my **s. And they weren't going anywhere. They were already late for their bus.
Fortunately, the principles office foyer also had a wall with windows to the outside that opened, and could not be seen from the hallway. I slipped out one, and laid low until my mom showed up to get me. But I had been marked. I had trouble with the black kids, sometimes multiple, from then on. The next year I switched schools again. And by this time, I had matured enough to realize I didn't always have to fight. Sometimes there were better options, and with a fresh start at a new school I took advantage of them. I decided I liked girls, and they began to interest me more than being a hard guy. And by the time I reached high school, my fighting days were just about finished. All three schools I had attended fed into the high school, and my reputation preceded me. I was left alone, to pursue girls and get into other trouble.
