When We Were Bullies

(CHILDREN CHATTER IN DISTANCE)

Not as easy as I... remember. (GRUNTS)

You remember doing this?

I don't, but I was younger once.

This is my elementary school in Brooklyn, P.S. 194.

-It's a Saturday... -(LAUGHS)

-Shit. Yeah, that's a good idea.

And this is me. -(PAPER RIPPING)

And this is me in fifth grade.

But let's start this story in the middle.

This is me in 1992, and I'm living in San Francisco.

I'm making a film called The Smell of Burning Ants,

which is about boys and growing up male.

The spark for the film came when I saw this scene

from a 1960s educational film.

But the moment that really got me

was when a third boy throws a quick punch.

When I saw this collaborator,

I saw myself, and a memory jolted me,

a memory that I hadn't thought about since fifth grade.

It was just three frames of film.

-(CAMERA SHUTTER CLICKS) -A split second.

If I would have blinked,

I wouldn't be telling you this story.

Fast-forward two years. I'm still working on that film,

and I'm looking for someone to do voice-over

because I really don't like the sound of my own voice.

At the time, I was teaching a film class.

The students were showing their final films,

and I was taken by the voice in one particular film.

This film is about a cat.

The cat fell.

The narrator's name was Richard.

He lived nearby in Berkeley, so we met at his house.

As he looked over my script,

he took notice of the following line.

"He was raised on concrete,

boxball, stickball, punchball, slap ball."

Richard then turned to me and asked...

"Are you from New York?" And you said, "Yeah."

And we did the New York thing.

"Where are you from?" "Brooklyn."

"Where are you from?" "What part of Brooklyn?"

"Sheepshead Bay." "Really? Wow."

Uh... "Where'd you go to school?"

You said, uh... something.

But then I said, "Where did you go to elementary school?"

Which was an odd question in many ways.

But you said P.S. 194,

and I just could feel the electricity,

like, because I went there.

And... (INHALES) ...then I said, "How old are you?"

And you told me. And we were the same age.

And I just said, "Whoa."

Wait, what's your name again?"

And you said, "Jay Rosenblatt." And I'm... (INHALES)

"Who was your fifth grade teacher?"

And you said, "Mrs. Bromberg," and it was, like, stunning.

Because we had the same class. I remembered you.

And I was trembling.

And then you-- I don't know what--

Your reaction was pretty similar.

We were both kinda like that. And then you said something...

You said, "Turn the page."

And I turned the page of the script,

and the first line was "In fifth grade..."

And it was like this whole flood of memory

of things that I hadn't even thought about for decades.

-Decades were there on the page. Mm-hmm.

And then what-- It was just... stunning

to think that somebody else was writing something

about something that I was part of

in 1965, 3,000 miles away.

And here we are and... feet apart from each other.

Richard then honed in on that exact same moment

that triggered the idea for the film.

That time we bullied this other Richard.

-Richard (BLEEP). -(MUFFLED INDISTINCT CHATTER)

I mean,

he could have written the words he was reading.

For me, the memory was vague.

All I knew for sure is that it happened.

And I participated.

Oh, yeah, one last thing.

We got caught.

-(GLASS SHATTERING) -(CHILDREN CHEERING)

Richard remembered details I had completely forgotten,

or maybe I just blocked.

Like how Mrs. Bromberg would insist

that we were totally silent

and sit at attention with our hands clasped

before she would let us go home.

But on this particular day, it was different.

Mrs. Bromberg ran a tight ship.

And she wasn't gonna put up with nonsense.

And I-- You know, so when she says,

"No one's leaving. I want it absolutely silent.

And I will decide when you leave." (CHUCKLES)

And we all just kinda go, "Mm."

And it's taking a long time.

You know, usually it lasts about a minute.

You know, as a teacher myself, I know, you just...

you wanna make a minute, and then you go.

It's going on and on and on.

And finally she says, "You can go.

You would've left earlier, but Richard was talking."

And I was outraged. I wasn't talking.

And then, I realized people thought it was me

and I was gonna get shit for it.

I didn't want people being mad at me.

So, we pack up our stuff, and it occurs to me that...

it must have been the other Richard in the class,

who we called Dick.

Uh... that was his name that he was assigned

in fourth grade, when there were four Richards

in the same class, in Mrs. Weidman's class.

There was Richard, I was Richie, there was a Rich,

and then this other guy got Dick.

And, you know, in the hierarchy of fourth and fifth grade,

that's not a good thing. Yeah.

So, as we're packing up our stuff,

I started-- I passed along to Michael Sorrel,

who was right in front of me,

-I said, "It was Dick." -(CHILDREN WHISPERING)

"Get Dick. Pass it down."

-And it started getting passed down. -(CHILDREN WHISPERING)

All the way down the line as we were walking down.

And everybody heard it.

And as we get out of the building,

we s-- he s-- He must've heard it as well,

because he starts running.

But we all, as a mass, kept on running down the stairs

and surrounded him and jumped on him.

I jumped on him,

and Michael Sorrel jumped on him,

that's what I remember the most.

Girls were jumping on him. It was, like, out of control.

But we were all angry at him.

Now, let's pick up where we left off.

At the locked gate of P.S. 194.

-I don't like this, Richard. -(RICHARD CHUCKLES)

I don't know where to put my foot.

Uh, if you can get that foot down...

and then just your other foot over.

Then if you can move your hands to the fence at some point.

-(JAY GRUNTS) Don't come down fast.

It's almost as if you can almost see the spot.

You know, it just feels like it was right here.

There's-- There's something right here.

-And this is where we surrounded him. -(CHILDREN CLAMORING)

And some kids spit on him.

Everybody's taunting him

with, uh, whatever everybody wanted to do, it seemed.

It seemed like everybody had free will to, uh...

to do whatever it felt like he deserved.

And this where I remember, at this point,

being a bit of an instigator.

And I remember being on my knees, somehow,

and then seeing, looking back--

We're here, so perhaps I was punching him,

perhaps just spitting on him, just perhaps yelling,

I don't remember the specifics of what I did.

But I do know Michael Sorrel, another student, was next to me

because everybody stops, and we look up,

and we see coming down the stairs...

Mrs. Bromberg and Dr. Pinkus, the principal.

Everybody gets up as one and starts running and running.

And then I remember the next day,

coming in, and Mrs. Bromberg sent...

Dick out for an errand,

and then just turned to the class

and just said, "You are animals,"

and really gave us

a going-to, yeah.

Wow. -So, it's just--

So, you know, from my perspective,

it was like... I was trying to keep...

me from getting the wrath of the class,

and pinned it on him.

This experience had clearly affected us both.

And the more I delve into it,

the more upset I am that I was involved.

And as I was soon to learn,

we were not alone in this memory.

So I finally finish my film,

and it seems to hit a nerve.

A local newspaper wants to do a cover story on me and my work.

At some point, I end up telling the writer

about that weird coincidence

-with my narrator, Richard. -(PROJECTOR WHIRRING)

He is clearly taken by this story.

-(CHILDREN CLAMOR) -So much so

that it becomes a big part of his article.

A couple of decades later,

while making this film,

I mean, I'll be honest. I mean, I was--

I was a kid who... was bullied.

I was the fat kid in grade school. Um...