Bullying…
It seems to me that bullying has been in the media an awful lot lately. Is it just me or is bullying on the rise? Perhaps, it’s the fact that no one can do anything anymore without it getting around the world and back again in a matter of minutes. Whether bullying has become more prevalent or information sharing has gotten more efficient is really inconsequential. The real story is that bullying or being bullied is a sad fact of life and it definitely hasn’t gotten any better. Most everyone has been affected by bullying. Whether the aggressor or the victim, we’ve all experienced it in one way, shape or form. What I don’t understand is why it has become a federal issue. Why is the President holding conferences on preventing bullying? Bullying is more of a FLOTUS issue than a Presidential one, if you ask me. Now, I do agree with the President on one point, we shouldn’t accept bullying as, “a harmless rite of passage.” Bullying of any form, whether violent or not, should not be tolerated anywhere. Still, I fail to see where this is a Presidential issue.
In my humble opinion, bullying hasn’t gotten better and maybe even gotten worse. We are raising generations of entitled children who aren’t allowed to fail and who don’t know how to handle adversity. These same children aren’t used to doing anything on their own, they have never had to adhere to deadlines nor taught how to handle constructive criticism. Is it any wonder they don’t know how to defend themselves against those who wish to victimize them?
Let me put things into perspective: I am 5 feet 2 inches tall, I’m 115 pounds with red hair and I’m asthmatic. In my entire life, I never left the 5th percentile for height and weight, I might as well have been born with a giant bulls eye birth mark on my forehead. Needless to say, I was mercilessly bullied in Junior High (I believe folks call it middle school now.) I always had to have a lower locker because I wasn’t tall enough to see the numbers on the dial of the top lockers. In 7th and 8th grades my bullies were Rex B. and Billy C., the 2 boys in the lockers above me. They delighted in tormenting me on a daily basis. On any given day I would get shoved in my locker, have my books thrown out into the hall, pushed, called names, etc. On those very special occasions, you know, picture day, dress up day, spirit day, they delighted in pouring bottles of Polo on my head and down my back. (To this day, the smell of the cologne makes me feel panicky and vulnerable.) Everyday, I would go home depressed and crying and everyday my mother would tell me to go to the Principal’s office, tell a teacher or get a member of the faculty involved. The Principal would give them a “stern talking to” and put a “bad referral” in their permanent record. The next day, the punishment would start all over again. My Junior High had a “zero tolerance” policy on violence but what they were doing to me wasn’t technically their definition of violent. So, the cycle would start all over again, I’d go home depressed, my mom would tell me to tell the Principal, the Principal would give them a bad referral and I would get it worse the next day.
Then, one Sunday afternoon, I started having an anxiety attack. There were less than 18 hours before I would have to encounter Rex and Billy again. I would start to sweat, I’d throw up, I couldn’t stop crying and my parents were totally beside themselves. Clearly what they were coaching me to do wasn’t working and I was becoming despondent and suicidal. My dad waited for my mom to leave the room and pulled me aside, “If you ever tell your mother I said this, I will deny it. Tomorrow, when Rex and Billy start to harass you, you turn around and punch both of them as hard as you can.” I nodded my head, between tears and my dad held me as I melted into a puddle of fear and dread. (I am crying as I recall this difficult part of my life.)
The next morning started as usual, they yanked my books from me, threw the contents of my locker in to the hall and attempted to shove me into my locker. I was kneeling on the ground (at my lower level locker) and turned to be eye to male anatomy with Rex, the instigator and primary aggressor. Remembering what my father said to me the day before, I summoned up all the rage I had bottled up over the last almost 2 years and let Rex have it, right in the… Rex fell to the floor, crying and screaming. I went over to the nearest hall monitor and pointed at Rex, writhing on the floor. “I did that.” I said to her. She picked Rex up off the floor and helped him to the nurse’s office while I waited for the Principal to see me. My parents were called, along with Rex and Billy’s parents, the boys’ parents were aware of what their sons had been doing to me but I don’t know if they ever did anything privately to get them to stop. Because of my school’s zero tolerance policy on violence, I was threatened with 3 days of suspension and possible expulsion pending a hearing with the school board. My parents fought tooth and nail for me and I never received either punishment.
Now, I’m not condoning violence, quite the contrary. What I did was wrong, I could have seriously injured Rex, permanently. And, while it did solve the problem in the long run, I should never have let it get to that point. I should have stuck up for myself sooner, I should have surrounded myself with my friends, I should have…. However, my school owns some of the responsibility too. The policy should have been a zero tolerance policy on bullying, of any form, not just violence. The punishment for prolonged torment should have been much steeper than a “bad referral.” They should have moved me or the boys to another locker on another level of the school. There are a dozen or more things my school could have done to help me but they didn’t.
My point to all this? We need to stop raising our children to be victims. I allowed myself to be victimized because I thought I was too small to defend myself, I know better now. I will teach my son not only to not be a victim but to step in when he sees someone being victimized. I will not allow my son to go through what I went through by teaching him self respect, how to handle adversity and to be an example of how to stop bullying. Now the schools have to do something about it too.
As a side note, I took my son to a local fast food restaurant the other day. There was a (older, bigger) little girl keeping the smaller children off the play area. Most of the toddlers cowered to her pushing and yelling but not my son. He (at the ripe old age of 2) opened the wings of his Batman action figure and pressed it to her chest, once she started yelling and pushing, he yelled and pushed right back. The girl relented and all the other smaller and younger children that she had intimidated into leaving the play area followed my son up the stairs to the slide. Now, my son is no hero but I am proud to tell you that he looked fear right in the eye and stood up for himself. I wish I'd had that courage in Jr. High and I hope he doesn't lose it.
I realized in that moment that I have a burning need to seek justice where I percieve there to be injustice. My 2 year old son has shown me the kind of courage I need (and know I now have) as I persue my education and eventual career. Perhaps we don't give children the credit they sometimes deserve for having all the answers.
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