I love this.
Mothers and teachers, it's a no-brainer. I've covered it here before.
A kid bullies your kid. You tell your kid he's going to have to fight fire with fire. He punches you, you punch him back. You fight like a banshee. You bloody his nose and give him a fat lip and if you get expelled for protecting yourself, I will back you up.
Joey Durso teased me once. He was a neat little guy. He was smaller than I. I guess we were in the first grade.
I grabbed his shirt and I ripped it at the Cary Ave./Clove Road intersection. My mother and his belonged to the PTA. Oh, it sounded so sweet, that ripping noise his shirt made. He never did it again.
When a kid who was older, David, the cross-eyed kid with the red hair and glasses taunted me and then threw a shingle at me, I whacked him with my Minnie Mouse umbrella and I guess I got him good, because he left me alone. That was around the same time I think. Maybe second grade.
And when my son was terrrorized on his bike delivering papers, and got in a fight with a wiry, nasty little bully, I told him to end it himself. So he did. And there was a conference of his father and us in our front yard. There was never again a problem.
Case closed. What are you teaching your children? To take abuse? Hell, NO! You have a phone? Call the parents. Visit the school, and tell them in no uncertain terms your child will finish what the other one started. If you have to teach them to box or send them to karate, do it, if you can. Don't allow this crap.