Memories of Lizzy Gruppetta, and other disturbing stuff.


Yesterday was not the first time I had been assaulted by a child, and I certainly do not think it will be my last.

The first time I was assaulted by a child, I was a child myself. Each Thursday after school, I would catch the bus to the swimming pool for my lesson. I would alight from the bus and proceed to walk to the pool, being followed by the evil Lizzy Gruppetta*, a gal whose nastiness was only matched by her most excellent aim. Lizzy would chuck rocks and insults at me for about a block.

Lizzy was a Class A1 bitch. Is it wrong to call a kid a bitch? I don’t care. She was one.

I even googled her this morning and came up empty handed, so I am going to assume Lizzy is in gaol somewhere. Pegging rocks at the wall.

Another time I was assaulted by a child, I was a fresh faced, eager Primary School Teacher, working in the Hackney Borough of London. I was one of the Year 3 teachers at Southwold Primary School, an educational institution in an extremely low socio-economic area. I quite fancied myself as a female version of Sidney Poitier.

On my very first day, I tried to break up a punch up between Mehmet and Andreas and ended up copping one in the guts. Lesson learnt. Do not come between 9 year old boys, fighting for the honour of their countries….

But yesterday, I was minding my own business when the assault occured.

I was drifting about in the city, running some errands when I grew hungry. I ducked down into the food court below Myer and settled into a chair with my salad. And you know when I say salad, I totally mean that I was about to roll a cheesy-b like it was nobodies business. A school excursion of a year 1 class flooded my dining experience, and a little girl plonked down next to me.

We caught each others eyes, and acknowledged each others presence, before she proceeded to reach over and start patting my arm.

It was fairly awkward. There were a few teachers with the group and they were busying themselves with a good gossip and a nice sit down.

She patted away, I kind of smiled, thinking to myself, “Where is this going….” when all of a sudden, SHE DUG HER FUCKING FINGERNAILS INTO MY ARM AND WOULD NOT DETACH!

I yelped in alarm. One of the teachers looked up from her shit Michelle’s Patisserie coffee and said somewhat annoyed… “Hands to yourself Emma….”

I, in turn, shoved one last handful of chips into my mouth and fled the scene. I walked up to the Channel 7 Studios, met Bev and retold her my tale. She laughed. I pretended to laugh, but still, to this moment, I am puzzled as to why I was attacked in the food hall, unprovoked.

 Children. Not that Innocent?

Did you have a Lizzy Gruppetta in your hood growing up?

* I have changed Libby’s name to Lizzy in this post, to protect her identity.