Winston Churchill said, “the history of man is war.” Considering the past and looking at the present, this statement stands true. Where does all that conflict come from? Us! Maybe you’ve never fought a war, but the same human nature that causes war strives inside of us: sibling rivalry, best friend brawls, gossip, neighbor feuds, road rage, squabbles among strangers, and the list goes on. It’s not easy, but we have to confront confrontation on the “battlefield.”

Confronting Confrontation

By Olivia Vejil (Excerpted from the Winter 2006 True Education)

They were hideous. Something had to be done. I wondered whether or not her parents really cared about her, sending her to school in atrocious white pants covered with pink and green flowers. Those pants were, frankly, more than I could bear. Somebody had to tell her about the tragedy that covered the lower half of her body. After surveying the candidates, I elected myself as spokesperson.

At that moment, an ordinary day in 4th grade turned into a “I-should-never-have-said-that” kind of day. Little did I know I had set in motion events that would teach me a very important lesson about confrontation.

As she walked by my desk, I let her know—in front of all of her other friends—precisely what I thought of those pants. About six years seemed to pass between my last derogatory word about her fashion sense and her response. During that time, I had plenty of opportunity to size her up. This was no ordinary 4th-grade-sized girl I had chosen to rile. She was about two feet taller than me and had a lot more body weight than I did—everyone does. She was the type that no one messed with; she was definitely the type that you did not want to have threaten to beat you up at lunch. “I’m going to beat you up at lunch,” she said.

Well, that was just grand. She returned to her seat and I began making my last will and testament. I learned the first lesson about confrontation the hard way. If you want to avoid confrontation, don’t be the one starting it. “I can’t believe I just did that,” I thought to myself. What the teacher was speaking about, I can’t remember. I do remember thinking about what asphalt might taste like. There was no way I was going to be able to do anything to this Goliathess of a classmate, so I sat and waited for my doom. I kept looking at the clock and hoping that maybe it would go back an hour, but it didn’t; it kept ticking nearer to lunch time.

Since we lived on a small military base, I could walk home during the lunch hour. Not surprisingly, I felt a strong need to go home during lunch that day. I didn’t feel like eating. I didn’t feel like doing much of anything. That lunch hour seemed like the shortest hour of my life.

As I started on my walk back to school, I thought of what I was going to do. The only thing I could think of was to pray to God for help. I prayed for a way to escape from this trial. As I neared the school playground, I could see a group of people gathered near the basketball court fence. She stood in the center of the group, waiting for me. My heart skipped a beat with each step. When I got closer, the kids stopped talking and stared like the bloodthirsty crowd they were.

This was it; the end of my life. This huge confrontation was about a pair of pants. I took one last sweet breath before she pushed me against the fence. It hurt. I bounced off the chain-link toward her and the crowd, but managed to catch myself before I was back within pushing range. I took another shaky breath.

“Look, let’s just talk about this. Tell me why you are upset.” She stared at me but calmed down almost instantly. She said, “I didn’t like the way you made fun of my pants—don’t ever do that again.”

I said, “Okay—sorry,” and split the crowd open as I walked away.

As I walked toward the building, my back still hurt a little, but she didn’t follow. Everyone returned back to playing basketball, and she went back to doing whatever it was she was doing. I felt a thousand times better, now that it was over. At the end of the day, she and I were able to say goodbye. It seemed we gained respect for one another that day.

Looking back on that day, I know that God helped in that situation, and He taught me some very important lessons in overcoming tough confrontation. I learned to be careful about the things I say to others, especially if it will offend them. Some things are better never said. I also learned to go to God for the answer and help in taking the best route to handle confrontation. I learned that it is better to talk with the other person than to get hit. Chances are, they are willing to talk and express themselves, as well. Lastly, I learned to move on from the confrontation and not hold grudges. At the end of the day, the girl and I were able to say goodbye as if nothing happened that day. But something had—I had learned an important lesson.