Have you ever had a store cashier ask for your phone number when you were at the checkout? Do you always tell her/him the real number? I don't.

I made up a fake number that I use for this situation (and online orders), and I have a fake name pseudonym, too. But, because you are not a store cashier, I don't want to fool you.

To educate the kids about personal privacy and identity theft, I told them not to give out their address and phone number to any strangers. If they must, give out the fake ones we made up.

Today, I had to drop off a form at school that Jett had forgotten on the kitchen counter. When I pushed the front office glass door open, a group of children on the couch caught my eyes (Who gets to sit on that particular couch? Those rascals waiting to be seen by the Principal). Among them was a familiar boy I was very ashamed to call my son at that moment. He hung his head low while scribbling on a piece of white paper placed on his lap. He was so focused he did not notice my presence.

I quickly walked over to him and asked him what had happened. Dillan looked up from the paper, and I could tell he experienced mixed feelings when he saw me. "I am hurt..."his voice was soft.

"Hurt? Where? How?" My voice was not as wimpy.

"Here," he pointed at his pair of new jeans where both knees were highlighted by mud stains.

"What happened, Dillan? Did you get in trouble?"

He stared at me with his trademark puppy-eye look and protested:"No, mom. I was hurt. I have to write down what happened on this piece of paper, then the Principal will look at it." He gave me a brief blank look then curiously asked:"How did you know to come? I gave the Principal the fake number..."

Just then the Tongan boy sitting right next to Dillan took a big gulp so loudly, that I could hear it flush down his esophagus. Now that just won my attention.

I looked over to him and he also had a piece of paper situated on his lap with some nightcrawler-like alphabets all over the place. It seemed like writing an essay was not his strength.

I immediately came up with the presumption that he was the one who got in trouble with Dillan.

I then told Dillan to continue composing his essay while I went over to Jett's classroom to deliver the form. He obeyed.

A couple minutes later when I got back to the front office, Dillan had finished writing, and was helping that Tongan boy with spelling and grammar on his essay.

I grabbed Dillan's paper to read, hoping to find some clues to assure me my son was not a troublemaker. And after reading his words, I was relieved.

That Tongan boy was bullying my boy just minutes before I got to school. He pushed my son into a mud puddle on the playground and called him "stinky" and "stupid".

Well, I might not know very much, but I do know that this particular son of mine is in no stinky way "stupid", and I don't even want to brag about it.

But being intelligent doesn't mean that he doesn't do stupid things, so I could see the point that Tongan boy was trying to make.

If I have been brave enough to make a scene in the office, this is what I would have said to that Tongan boy:

"Being huge doesn't mean you can bully any child in class as you please, even though he is 5 sizes smaller than you. Plus, he is so smart that he gave the Principal the fake number when he knew if he gave out the real one, you would be in a whole lot of trouble. As for you?...When your mom gets summoned to the Principal's office, I would like to see you cry!

You stay away from my son, you hear me?"

Hope Youngblood, February 25, 2010