In grade two, we were running around the gym when a larger kid decided to trip me.
He did indeed succeed in his intent. I tripped over and smashed my teeth into the hard wooden floor.
Part of one of my front teeth was instantly powdered. I got up from the floor with fewer teeth than I had going down.
With my bloody mouth, I explained to the teacher that the kid had tripped me. The kid denied it and the teacher decided to do nothing.
So we just got on with class like nothing happened. Much of life is like this.
I don't think the kid thought the consequences would be so severe because he never bothered me again.
Maybe like me, he learned something that day. Maybe.