Confession: I Was An Elementary School Predator

"Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?"

"As I remember it, yes."

Yahira was the prettiest girl in Miss Smiths fifth grade elementary school class. Maybe the entire school. It would not have been a hard distinction to get, the school was so small that our auditorium also doubled as our gym, which, graciously doubled as our lunch room. Let's just say, for the young boys of Brooklyn's P.S. 397, the pool of single, attractive young ladies in the fifth grade class that year, was quite shallow.

Looking back, one of her earliest advantages was that she was the only Spanish girl in a sea of African-Americans and West-Indian children. Things like that tend to make you stand out. They also tend to bring unwanted attention.

So for a young boy, beset by an early taste of a thing called hormones, that little Spanish flower was the bee's knees.

In P.S 397 the playground was like a jungle made of asphalt, rubber mats, and steel bars. You had your monkeys on the monkey bars, the cheetahs playing tag all around, and a lioness keeping a watchful, yet cursory, eye on everything.

To a kid, that small patch of land tucked amongst industrial buildings, car repair spots, and a garbage truck depot, represented freedom. But to many others, it represented anxiety, humiliation and life and death danger.

The funny thing about the jungle is that you can very quickly discover your position in the circle of life.

It was on that playground that I became a predator, when I decided I would go for the most exotic prey - Yahira.

I became relentless in my pursuit. I did everything possible to get her attention. At first, I was subtle, I didn't want to scare her away - so just to let her know that I was thinking of her, I pulled her hair (not too hard, just a tug. I was in love but I wasn't ready for marriage if you know what I mean).

It was the perfect plan really. It started with steady and prolonged stream of physical abuse and progressed to calling her name every time I walked by - "Yahiiiiiirrrraaa!". 

Strangely enough, after what seemed like months of effort, nothing seemed to be working. Here I was, pulling out all the stops for this girl and I was getting nowhere. What was a boy to do? Did I need to hit her harder?

I would never get the chance to find the answer to that question. Something would happen on the playground that would change our relationship forever. It would also be, what can only be called today, my Herman Cain moment.

On a beautifully warm day out on the asphalt jungle, I was mysteriously called in by the principal of the school, herself a rare sight in the mucky and murky world of child's play. The unusual nature of it all gave, what was about to happen, the feel of an execution - I was a dead boy walking.

What did I do wrong?, I asked myself. I was known for talking up a storm in class but I was getting that under control. Surely that couldn't of been it.

I reached the tiny corridor that lead from inside the school to the playground and found the love of my life standing there with two adults. I recognized the first one as the aforementioned, rarely seen, principle. The other lady was completely unfamiliar to me.

The principle introduced us, "This is Yahira's mother, she's here to talk to you".

Did this mean what I thought it meant? Was she going to give me permission to marry her daughter?Everything I had been working so hard for was about to pay off. All the teasing, hitting, and general behavior of annoyance was all worth it.

As it turns out, she wasn't there to betroth her daughter to me.

Yahira had been telling her mother all about the sweet little gestures I was doing to win her over but she didn't find it as charming as I thought she should have. On the contrary, she was upset, really upset.

She bent over to come closer to my level, pointed her finger in my face, snarled her teeth and said, "Everyday, my daughter comes home crying, because of you."

I couldn't believe it. Was that true? I looked into Yahira's face for the answer. The tears streaming down her face told me it was. But the tears coming from my eyes should have told all of them that it was all a big misunderstanding. Yes, I basically terrorized her every chance I got, but I didn't want to hurt her.

In that meeting, it was made clear to me that if I didn't want my elementary school career to be marred by this sexual harassment  scandal, I would have to stay away. I received the harshest punishment short of suspension; a principal mandated restraining order.

That moment has stayed with me ever since that day. Until the unfortunate 'butt slap' incident in 7th grade I kept everything on the up and up with the ladies - never touching or hitting or talking to any of them. It wasn't until high-school, and with clear understanding that we were boyfriend and girlfriend, that I had my first kiss.

I put my heart out there, and It got crushed. But hey, It could have ended a lot worse - I could be Herman Cain right now.

"Thank you. No more questions, your honor."

"Then witness is excused"

"Thank you"

"Next witness to the stand. Yahira Rodriguez."