It was in the eighth grade when I first realized karma does actually exist. This sudden phase of maturity did not come from nothing. It was a hard-learned lesson where the cliché moral of judging a book by its cover caught up with me. From that point on, I decided that I should change my whole perspective about people and how I should treat them. In order to tell this story to the fullest, I need to present some background information to make it more comprehensible, showing how one thing led to another and ultimately to my epiphany. J. W. Fair middle school only has seventh and eighth grade, which means that the eighth-graders are consider the superiors. The students are also very focus on popularity; especially the eighth-graders and a few seventh-graders who are befriended by the upper-classmen. Academics are second priority to most of the students, including me. What are important are the social events like field trips or school dances. In a school where reputation is everything, it is easy to get carry away and kids could be ruthless to further their reputation. Those who you would think are your friends are just leaches trying to add to their reputation and climb up the popularity latter. I guess it could be consider as a dog eat dog sort of environment and I let myself get lost in it all. I am guilty of everything that was just described about the students at J. W. Fair.

        I was a bit of a class clown in middle school and that was how people liked me. I really should have been the passive person I really am but peer pressure is a powerful form of persuasion. But then again, it was not as if I did not enjoy the attention I got. The class clown is a classic case of a child wanting attention, and that is exactly what I got. When eighth grade came around, I did not lack attention at all. I was a straight A student and very involved during classes, so I had attention from all of my teachers. I was sport orientated and a good dancer, so I had attention from all of my peers. The attention all went to my head and soon enough, my ego was too inflated for my own good. Simply put, I became a jerk. I would call my friends rude names, and I would act very improper towards the younger students. It is not something I am proud of, but it all went to teaching me a lesson.

        I mentioned that I singled out younger kids to put them down. I also mentioned that a few seventh-graders became as popular as their upper-classmen friends. This is where my wonderful eighth grade year goes bad. I picked on a seventh-grader name Vien early on in the year. It was no surprise that he was furious about it. He never really lived it down, and he would tell his friends how I was so hostile towards him. Half way in to the year, he became really close to my friends, or rather people who I considered friends at the time. Of course, the stories came up soon after that. Bad led to worst, and my friends turned against me. This was clear when they persuaded me to fight him. This was very juvenile, but as nervous as I was, I accepted the challenge fearing my reputation would suffer if I back down.

        ''It was not as if I was scared of Vien. He is a year younger than I am.'' I told myself, in an attempt clam my nerves. The fight did take place, and it is of this climax of this story. Half of the school showed up for the fight, and they all were expecting a monumental fight. I am sad to admit that I did not disappoint them. It was unfortunate that people only remembered me being pounded until I was cover in blood. The fight itself was quite a short one, but from my point of view, it was an eternity. It is not hard to recall such an event in your life with vivid memories and it is true for this particular event. It was like a scene from a movie. A large circle formed, surrounding Vien and me. We circled around for a while, staring each other down before charging at each other. He strung his right arm, so I went on the defensive by blocking his first punch with my left arm. At this point, I realize he is a lot strong and faster than I had originally thought. His left followed immediately, and I ducked to avoid contact. In my ducking position, I was very comfortable with my surround and proud of myself for diverging his first two punches. My confidence was growing, and I started to think that there would be a positive outcome for me. As I was preparing for an upper cut to end the fight, without warning, something hard hit me on the back of my head. Stumbling over to the sidelines, I realized that he had just elbowed me in the back of my head. Disorientated and baffled, I charged him. It was a bad move of my part because the next thing I remember was a horrible pain on my face and blood dripping down my shirt. The fight was over.

        For the next week or so, I walked around with a black eye and a cut lip. Everyone either witnessed the fight or heard about it, so there was no point hiding it. To add insult to injury, everywhere I turned, there was mention of the fight. There were seventh graders I have never seen before staring and pointing at me while talking to their friends. I did not only get beaten up, but also ridicule for the rest of the year. It was then that things became clearer than day and the moral could not get anymore obvious; do not judge a book by its cover, and treat people the way you could like to be treated. I found out that people who I thought were friends could have cared less for my well-being. Vien who I thought was weak and pathetic actually is not. It was a hard lesson to learn, but even though I have to hear the story repetitively every time I see people from middle school, I am glad I had to go through that ordeal. With out that event in my life, who knows how I would have turned out? I could even be a bigger jerk than I was then.