He fat shamed a 7th grader (and got away with it)

Photo by jojo (sharemyfoodd) ◡̈ on Unsplash

When I was 13 years old, one of the most stressful places for me was school.

Well, check that. The most anxious place was biology class.

Uhm.

Scratch that too.

The place where the most anxiety, stress, and oppressiveness hit me like a ton of bricks was Mr. Perez’s biology class.

I mean, overall, I liked school. Not quite as much as a fat kid likes cake, but enough so that going was fun.

But damn.

That one class.

That one teacher.

One of the bigger things that I later took note of is that I didn’t know what stress, dread, or angst was. I don’t think any 13 year old really does.

Should they?

It wasn’t until later on, like in my teen and early adult years, that I realized I was fat-shamed. Heck, I didn’t even know it was fat-shaming until the term came out like, what, a few years ago?

So the truth of the matter is, in a way, I was bullied by my teacher.

I remember clear as day. I think it was a Wednesday, actually. We had an assignment due.

Homework.