The Courage of Children: Boston and Beyond XXX

Rushi Murrow
Kate Boswell & Alex Jones, Teachers
The Advent School
To me, courage isn’t saving someone from something dangerous like a train,
courage is standing up for something you care about, or something that you
believe is unfair. I used to think courage was being a superhero, the ones with
the weird underwear on the outside. I used to never want to be courageous,
because I wanted to keep my underwear on the inside. But then I started
basketball. I was the only kid on two teams that wasn’t white. I was a little bit
intimidated, especially because a bunch of older kids were pushing us around.
I felt like socks in a washing machine filled with clothes.
Everything was fine until we started playing name games to get to know each
other. Everyone else’s names were Jack, Mark, Sam, John, Carl, or Tim. All
names that were so similar, so easy to pronounce and remember. So normal.
My name sounded like I put a bunch of random letters thrown together. Of
course, no one got the pronunciation right. First they said Rishi, and then
Rashi, so I explained it rhymes with sushi. That only made it worse. We started
doing some practice games to warm up. But on the sidelines, people would
walk by me and whisper mockingly, ‘Rushi Tushy Sushi,’ or ‘Rushi like Sushi,’
and then giggle. I had learned in all those little kid shows on TV to ignore
verbal bullying and to stand up for yourself. Yeah, right. That only made them
think I was afraid, and I was on the verge of crying.
Then, the older kids noticed. And they sat next to me and whispered, “Sushi
S***, Sushi S***.” I wanted to cry. But I didn’t, I knew being emotional was
just fuel to people like that. But soon everyone was doing it. Whenever I wasn’t
on the court I would hear in my ear, “Sushi Tushy! Sushi Rushi, Sushi S***.”
By the end of the day I was feeling horrible. I told my mom and she said I
should tell the coaches. Obviously, I didn’t, and they did it again and again.
Then, a kid named Max noticed and said, “Stop it, stop it.” Then his sibling
joined in. But the bullies didn’t stop. Then I said, “STOP.” They all paused.
The coaches noticed and walked over. In my quavering voice I told them. They
were furious, and all the other kids’ moms and dads came over to see what
happened, and they all got in very big trouble.
The Courage of Children: Boston and Beyond
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