I slid out into the hallway between classes, only to see two boys pounding a third into the ground. I walked up slowly, eye brows raised. They saw me, little fists paused mid-sucker-punch.
"What are you doing? Are you killing him?"
"No, no teacher," they shook their heads, "he is punching bag."
The boy on the ground crooked his neck so he could look at me, and smile.
"Punching bag?" My brows went up even higher.
"Yes" they nodded, enthused. "He lost the game, so we punch."
"Hmm...." I often express i-am-not-happy-with-this-situation in monosyllables.
"Ok! Ok! No fight!" They scampered off, the previous punching bag pounding their over-sized skulls in retribution.
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