As per the trailer trash kids--We had to walk past a trailer park on the way back from school and it wasn't uncommon to have rocks, snowballs, and taunts thrown. There were occasional physical confrontations, with books thrown into the mud, papers torn, and the odd punch, kick, and slap. Kids without books were exempt.

In later years, one of the then grown "kids" walked into a shop with a can of black enamel and poured it all over a woman who was wearing a white fur coat. He didn't know her, and he wasn't an animal rights activist. We didn't see him after that.

Curiously, years later, another of the"kids" showed up a few times at a jam session I frequented. He'd learned to play some guitar while in prison. CSN&Y stuff. We did a lot
of blues, though, and he didn't stick around.