We took care of that in the seventies. I came into elementary school fighting. Fighting was in my DNA. So were glasses; so fighting did not last very long. But I had two, unofficial semi professional MMA bouts. I was one no contest, one loss. 

But back to bullies. This was how it was done in Brooklyn, private education. Good versus bad. One blonde, Italian kid, one cool black kid, one eastern bloc immigrant kid. I was not the cool, black kid. All the geeks were on my side. The blond was mafioso turned mortician. The cool black kid grew up and disappeared. The Czech republic was easily the biggest kid in first grade. 

But he was not the bully. I made the mistake of standing in front of him while he threw blind jabs. I had nice kid, delayed reactions. So clobbering him with the wiffle ball bat did not pan out. I got my front baby teeth loosened. 

But on another day in question, the Yugoslavian kid stepped on a bumble bee, which offended the entire class. Just stepped through the crowd with those oversized, suede Pumas and, 'Splat!' Guess who led the tirade against the Serbo Croatian? The blond! He was the bully. I kicked his ass until junior high school, but he was the puppet master.