Free No More Bullies by Frank Peretti Page A

inherently good and able to decide for yourselves the right thing to do. You have the capacity within yourselves to solve all your own problems and make this a better playground. You don’t need Mrs. Kravitz.”
    â€œBut what about the playground rules?” they asked.
    â€œYou can decide for yourselves if the playground rules are right for you. It’s really not our place to say that any one set of rules is better than another.”
    And so the kids were left to their own wills and feelings and the whims of their own hearts.
    For a time, the playground rules still held sway in their minds. The rules worked well enough in the past; they continued to bring stability in the days that followed.
    But then, one day, Clyde Saunders stopped to consider the excess saliva in his mouth and whether or not he should swallow. “It’s my mouth and my spit,” he reasoned to himself. “I don’t see what business anyone else has telling me how to get rid of it.” Whereupon, he fired off a huge, viscid, undulating glob that hit Rachel Parks right in the eye.
    Rachel was beside herself. She felt violated, betrayed, insulted, and infringed upon—not to mention wet and gross. “Clyde! You aren’t supposed to do that!”
    â€œOh, yeah?” he responded. “Who says?”
    She promptly took him over to the old sign displaying the playground rules.
    â€œSee here?” she said, pointing. “The rules say, ‘No spitting on the girls.’”
    â€œWell, I can choose to live by those rules or not.”
    â€œBut you hurt me and you know it!”
    â€œThat depends on your definition of hurt and your definition of knowledge.”
    Not long after this, the baseball game came to a screeching halt when Jordan Smith caught a pop-up fly and abruptly walked off with the baseball.
    â€œHey,” the others shouted, running after him, “that’s our ball!”
    â€œIt’s mine now,” he replied.
    â€œBut you have to share!”
    â€œOh, yeah? Who says?”
    They pointed to the rules. “It says, ‘Share the equipment.’”
    Jordan was unmoved. “You really believe that old sign? Come on, we don’t need those rules. We have Reason to show us the way.”
    So they tried reasoning with him. After all, in the absence of authority, Mrs. Kravitz, and the playground rules, Reason alone should suffice.
    â€œWell,” he responded, “A: I want the ball; B: I don’t want you to have it; and, therefore, C: You aren’t going to get it!”
    The other boys were stymied—except for those who weren’t afraid of a little roughness. The rules didn’t apply anymore, and Reason wasn’t giving them justice, so . . . they ganged up on Jordan, knocked him to the ground, and got the baseball back.
    Following Jordan’s line of reasoning, Sally and Jennifer promptly took possession of a jump rope. The girls from whom they’d taken it tried to be open-minded and tolerant, but they still couldn’t help feeling cheated somehow. “We think you should share,” they said.
    Sally rolled her eyes as Jennifer responded, “We think you should stop trying to impose your narrow-minded, middle-class morality on us.”
    â€œBut remember the rules?”
    Sally and Jennifer laughed mockingly in the other girls’ faces. “We’ve evolved beyond the rules and attained a higher perception: We think the jump rope is ours. We think we’re entitled to it. Therefore, the jump rope is ours.”
    This new way of thinking caught on. The children had no need of authority or Mrs. Kravitz anymore. Each child was his or her own authority. As for the rules, although the standards on the old sign beside the playground never changed, the rules became increasingly offensive. The children finally tore down the sign and threatened to kick and punch any kid who tried to put it back up.
    So the playground was