Boxing

Decades ago, at school, we had boxing. It was compulsory, after a certain age. You had to train for it, but nothing prepared me for facing my deskmake, in the ring, in front of the whole school, for 3 rounds. We didn't want to hurt each other, so we dodged about. And then he hit me. End of round 1. Round 2, I felt obliged to hit back so, near the the end, I hit him. Round 3. Near the end, I let him hit me. I didn't hurt.
In a subsequent bout, a gentle giant friend of mine gave his opponent, an equally harmless chap, a nosebleed and then proceeded to pound his bleeding nose. It was shocking. The fight was stopped.
Later on, a notorious school bully was given a severe pasting by a seemingly inocuous bloke who had very long arms. Despite the obvious suffering taking place, the pasting was allowed to continue to the bitter end, with the full support of the staff! His bullying days were over.
The following year, boxing was discontinued.
A few years later, I was working as a student teacher in a primary school off the Old Kent Road. There was a nasty incident of verbal racial abuse by an obnoxious white boy against a black girl. I was aware of boxing gloves and ropes for a boxing ring in the stores. Clearly, there had been boxing on the curriculum in the past. I took it upon myself to have the matter resolved by physical combat. Without consulting the headteacher, I arranged for a match on the rooftop playground after school. After 30 seconds of continuous pummelling to the white boy's face, I stopped the match and declared the black girl the winner. No further racial incidents ocurred while I was there.