With the overriding concerns about bullying in our schools in recent years, it is time for me to 'fess up to being a schoolyard bully when I was a kid.

Quite frankly, if someone today did what I had done, he would probably be expelled from school, possibly even charged with assault and harassment. But this is now, and that was then. Despite what you are about to read, none of my victims ever reported me to the teacher or other school authorities, nor, to the best of my knowledge, did they ever rat on me to their parents.I vividly remember being the top dog of my 35-member class in Summit Hill. I assumed this position at age 6 (first grade) when I beat up another kid in my class who also aspired to be king of the hill. I retained dominance for four years until shortly after the start of fifth grade. To retain this lofty realm, I routinely beat up and taunted any guy who challenged my authority or mouthed-off to me. For the record: I never laid a hand on any of the girls.At our small elementary school, there were four play periods: before school, during two recesses (one in the morning and one in the afternoon), and during a one-hour lunch break at the noon hour.We had no school buses, so most of us went home for lunch. My home was just three blocks from the school. After lunch, I walked back to keep an eye on activities until school resumed at 1 p.m. This still gave me the better part of 30 minutes to re-establish my authority, if necessary, and handle any malcontents in the schoolyard.During these play periods, I set the agenda for the games. Mostly, the guys played together; the girls had their own games. Once in awhile, though, both sexes got into action together. For example, when we were in first and second grades (1945 and 1946), we played "War," especially since the second World War was fresh in everyone's mind.In this game, half of the guys (the most popular ones, according to my determination) were the Allies, while the others (the least popular, by my reckoning) were soldiers of Axis nations (Germany and Japan). I would not allow any of the enemy to be Italians, because my parents were immigrant Italians and loved the United States. I figured it would be an insult and disrespectful to them to have Italians portrayed this way, even if it was for fun.In "War," the girls had their limited roles. They were nurses who would swoop into action to tend to a wounded Allied soldier. The "wounded" enemy soldiers were left to die with no medical help.We had no weapons, not even toy replicas. Our make-believe rifles were activated by hand and arm motions and by the sound effects we made. A rifle sound was something like a sharp-sounding "koo-koo" with an emphasis on the "k." We also had make-believe machine guns "rat-a-tat-a-tat-a-tat" and hand grenades, which we pretended to lob, followed by a guttural sound in our throat to designate the explosion "ploooooo."Periodically, after the shots or explosions, someone would fall to the ground pretending to be hit. That's when one of the girls would run to the wounded soldier's aid, determine where the wound was, put her hand on the make-believe wound and make a "click, click, click" sound while rotating her hand on the wound. The soldier was instantly healed and returned to the battle good as new.After I had beaten up a few challengers to my throne, the rest of my male classmates kept in line and were reluctant to challenge me. After a few years, I not only terrorized my own classmates and younger kids, I thought it was time to branch out, extend my domain and take on those who were a year or two older than I.I was big for my age, so I matched up or exceeded the size of some of those who were a grade or two ahead of me. I made it a point to beat up a couple of the older kids who were not very strong or athletic, thinking I was sending a message to their classmates not to mess with "the Frazz."One day, in fifth grade, several of my friends and I were playing in the Ginder Stadium across from our junior high school. A kid from Tamaqua was visiting relatives in town and was at the stadium playing football with some of his family members and their friends.I made the mistake of thinking that he would serve as a good example to take word and a few scars back to Tamaqua about how he and his friends wouldn't want to mess with me if they happened to come to Summit Hill.When I walked up to him and told him to leave the stadium, he told me what I could do with my ultimatum. I was stunned but not deterred. I gave him a hard shove to show him who was boss.The expression on his face transformed into that of a wounded beast from the depths of hell. He let out a loud scream, charged me and hit me full speed around the waist. I went flying and landed on my back.Before I even had a chance to process what was happening, he was on me like an uncontrollable demon and straddled my chest. He kept punching me in the face and arms, which I used to try to protect myself. In less than a minute, I was a bloody mess. Crying uncontrollably, I ran home only to receive a spanking from my mother for getting into a fight.My bullying days had come to an inglorious end. To this day, 65 years later, I was never in another physical altercation of any kind. I had learned my lesson.As for the young man two years my elder who vanquished me, he went on to become a prominent medical doctor in the area. Dr. Ben Houser died two years ago, which made me recall the unintended life lesson he taught me.(Bruce Frassinelli is a 1957 graduate of Summit Hill High School. He is an adjunct instructor at Lehigh Carbon Community College in Schnecksville.)