Bullying - Just some thoughts...

                We hear quite a bit in the news these days about ‘bullying.’ Personally, I hate the thought of kids going off to school and worrying about standing at their bus stop, riding their bus, their classroom, their lunchtime, gym class, well, you get my drift… I wish everyone could just be nice. I wish ‘bullying’ didn’t exist. With every ounce of sincerity that I can muster, I ask: why can’t everyone just get along?

            But the answer isn’t that simple. Everyone can’t just get along, well, because they can’t! Nature isn’t really created that way. No matter where you look throughout the vast world around us, something or someone is always trying to be in control of something or someone else - from plants or animals to humans. But, as they often say, “What doesn’t kill us makes us stronger.” Right? Well, sometimes it makes us stronger. Occasionally it weakens us; but usually it makes us smarter, and maybe that’s strength in and of itself. Anyway, the outcome of all of that behavior can range anywhere from magnificent to devastating, and sometimes even miraculous!

            I was born in 1961 (that makes me 51, just to save you from doing the math). When I think back to my own elementary school years in the late 60’s and early 70’s, bullying was all around us, alive and well. On a popularity scale, from grades K-6, I was probably at an average of about a 65%. I had friends, but wasn’t particularly ‘popular.’ I received invitations, attended birthday parties, usually had someone to hang around with in the neighborhood; but overall, my friends and I were just a bit above average. With this group of kids, (mostly girls – boys seemed to like the girls with a higher average in those years) if we flew under the radar and didn’t get in anyone’s direct way, we could maintain a pretty good life and have a lot of juvenile fun.

            Of course, staying off of bullys’ radars wasn’t always possible. Sometimes (usually) an older kid would get the notion we were somehow responsible for something bad that happened in their own life. They’d think they could lord something over us, and threaten to beat us up. And of course we believed it. Even though I had a stay-at-home mom, even though I had three older siblings, even though we ate dinner together as a family every single night, I wouldn’t have/couldn’t have told them about what was happening to me. Why? Well, I worried that my parents might make the situation worse. I worried that if they called the school or called a kid’s parents that the problem might escalate. I felt 100% sure I should handle things on my own, and I usually did. Was that the right thing to do? I have no idea. As an adult and parent of two, I know that’s not the life I wanted for my own kids…

Then I went to Junior High (cue intense music). My neighborhood friends and I lived about three miles from school, so we took a bus every single day. That turned out to be quite an education. The ‘cool’ kids all hung out in the back, smoking. If you got on late, sometimes you had to stand, but there was a line in that bus you did NOT want to cross – you did NOT want to stand or sit anywhere past that back bus door. Sometimes in the winter, just to be funny, someone ripped the hat from your head. Everyone passed it to the back of the bus, and someone would throw it out the window, giving you one of two choices. A) Go home without your hat (my mother wasn’t a big fan of “choice A”) … or B) Get off the bus way too early and retrieve the hat from the slush puddle it was likely soaking in. (Oh, and then of course walk the rest of the way to school or home.) Suffice to say I learned to remove my head ware prior to boarding.

            In Junior High I was so thrilled to start Band class. Sure, we’d had Band in fifth and sixth grades, but it was just a once-a-week sort of thing. Now I’d get to play every single day. At least it sounded like a great idea – till I actually got there. Two older boys in my section (I was the only girl who played trumpet) took it upon themselves to degrade (almost) every female that walked through the band room door. Since I sat so close to the action (lucky me) I was often their main target. I was called a dog, a mutt, they barked at me, they whispered, they shouted. Wow! It’s sort of painful to put that into print, but it’s true. You may be wondering where the director was…? Well, he was usually working with another section, or concentrating on the music, or… Well, he was also fairly elderly, and I now have to wonder if he was simply counting the days till his retirement. Once in a while he’d hear the two menaces say something and reprimand them, but one thing was certain – I either needed to endure this heckling and find a way through it, or quit band. And I wasn’t going to quit!

            I wish I had a really awesome story to tell about how I drove those two idiots to their knees. But I don’t - not really - I just rode the wave directly through it. Since I realized that the two criticized so many people, I didn’t take it entirely personally. They always say, “Living well is the best revenge.” It was funny because for being such a “dog,” such a “mutt,” I actually learned to play a pretty strong trumpet. When it was time to break into ensembles for contests, they usually wanted me to play with them. Go figure. By not quitting, and by practicing, I grew as a musician. When we got to Band in high school, one of those two was actually far beneath me in the chairs order. Then I was really glad I hadn’t quit. In fact, I stayed with Band all through high school, did some solo’ing, and moved all the way to first chair. What’s the old saying? “He who laughs last, laughs best”…? Something like that. I’ve often wondered if now, as dads themselves, if they think back on those days and regret the way they acted. Do they have a little girl that they love, who some “boy” is now calling a dog? Hmmm… Interesting thought…

            So what am I trying to say? Well, I just don’t think that bully’ing is new. I think we all (no matter how old we are) have our own stories to tell. In some ways the world is worse – the internet speeds up the gossip train – that’s very true. But in other ways I think that the world is actually much more accepting now than it used to be. People are quicker to take stands, speak up, and defend. The best feeling is to rise above those things and those petty people, actually show them that they couldn’t get to us. Though it’s good for kids to know that parents are there for them, and that if something is really serious they can help us, I still think that some of the hardest work needs to be done by ourselves. Others won’t be there for us when we move on in life to college, career, organizations, or whatever life hands us. We have to listen early on and figure out how to play it all out in our own lives. If I’ve learned one thing it’s that bullies exist long after high school – in small numbers, they’re everywhere, all the time. I believe they’re in the minority, but definitely present.

            Yes, I believe I was bullied. Yes, I hated it, but also believe that those experiences made me stronger. As they were growing up, I shared some of these stories with my own kids, and I warned them early on, “If I EVER find out that you called someone a…“  But they were pretty nice kids – I think these experiences of mine made them stronger, better individuals, too. As a parent, I did a lot of talking with my kids. I think that’s a good thing… maybe that’s a great place to start in all of this.        

So, I’ve been doing all the talking. Let me know what you think.