I read this article this morning. And I had to hold back tears.
There are kids who are committing suicide because they were bullied at school.
Granted...I'm not an expert on the subject. I don't know all the details...you can't trust the news to report a story with absolute truth.
Some people may think these kids were wimps and didn't know how to stand up for themselves. Maybe so...but I can tell you firsthand; kids who bully are acting out because they are not getting what they need from home, namely proper parental guidance, good role models, and lessons in how to treat others with kindness. They are not being taught that making fun of others is a terrible thing to do, and has lasting consequences.
If you don't believe me...read this blog post. It's long, but it's brutally honest.
What's going on with kids who are bullied? Anyone know? I'll start. I happen to have plenty of experience on the subject.
My Dad was in the military, so we moved every 2 years. Now, that's not so bad when you're young, and friends are made easily especially when you're in military schools overseas. Everyone else is an Army brat too. You all have that common bond, and friendships are there, but not deep, because you know you'll be moving in no time.
By the time I was in 6th grade, I'd lived in 3 countries and gone to 4 different schools. Sometimes it was hard, but I was hanging in there. I was teased some, but it wasn't too bad. My parents told me to, "just ignore it, and they'll stop." Unfortunately, it didn't stop. I realized this harsh reality when I was twelve.
Two boys in my 6th grade class decided I would be their target for the year. They relentlessly called me names, threw spitwads at me, blocked me from the bathroom, etc. One of the boys took a rubber band and staple and sent it flying across the room. It hit me in the face, right above my left eye. I had to go to the school nurse, who carefully pulled it out of my eyelid. I know my Dad made a visit to the principal, and the bullying nearly stopped after that. And that kid? Oh, he just got a slap on the wrist, probably because his Dad was the librarian (yes...really, he was).
Little did I know there would be more things for me to worry about than a staple.
In 7th grade, my Dad moved us to Hawaii. We lived in a tiny Army community just outside Hickam Air Force Base on Oahu. I'll bet you're thinking...WOW. Living in paradise...and the beach right outside our back door! What could be better?
Um..no. It was not paradise. At all. In fact, Hawaii was my least favorite place we lived in. Why?
For starters, my parents had heard the public schools were awful. So they did what they thought was best, and enrolled me in Catholic school. I thought it would be great. Wrong.
I need to back up just a bit and tell you what I looked like back then. I was a very runty child. I recall going to the pediatrician when I was 10. I weighed 50 pounds and was 50 inches tall. Yep...that's it. I was wearing thick ugly glasses because my eyesight was poor. By 7th grade, there were braces on my very crooked teeth. I had stick-straight, dark brown hair with bands cut straight across. I was also a very late bloomer. The uniform shorts were too big, even the smallest size my mom could buy. And because the uniform blouse was white, everyone could tell, (particularly the girls) that I still didn't wear a bra in 7th grade.
So...I didn't like myself much. Okay, I really didn't like myself at all. I knew I didn't look like most girls my age. I was always the shortest kid, and all the other kids at the Catholic school had know each other since kindergarten. The cliques had been establised for years, and needless to say, I wasn't allowed into any of them. My parents did the best they could, but they had pretty high standards, and I didn't always measure up to their expectations. My Father wanted me to stay strong and ignore the teasing. My Mother wanted me to be super smart, and become a prodigy in piano. I failed in all those departments, and my Mom didn't hide her disappointment. So I felt like a failure.
Pretty soon, the boys were teasing me every day. The girls were worse. They made fun of bra-less me. I knew they were always whispering behind my back. Wanting to fit in, I tried to be nice, and even laugh at the taunting. Of course, that was pointless. I even tried out for the girls basketball team, becuase I wanted to belong so badly. I am sure I wasn't but 52 inches tall, so the coach told me, "Maybe next year."
I didn't tell my parents anything. By now, my mom was very sick (years later, we learned she'd had a very bad flare-up of hepatitis), and she was practically bedridden for months. My Dad's assignment was stressful, and I knew he wouldn't be able to do anything. So I stayed quiet. One day, the teasing was so bad, I came home crying. My Dad took one look at me, and promptly went to the principal. The principal was a nun, who was sympathetic, but powerless to do anything. She probably didn't want to lose any students by talking to wealthy, tuition-paying parents.
By now, my parents decided the money they were dishing out for me (and my 2 siblings) wasn't worth it. We were enrolled in public school the following year.
Eighth grade turned out to be the worse year of my life.
In Hawaii, you are either a local or a "haole." Being a military brat, I was automatically labed a "haole, " because I was not a native, and also because I was part Asian. Many locals have deep, discrimating feelings against Asians, because they believe they've bought up their island land for commercial/retail development. I was smart, and had a few friends at the new middle school, but the bullying was much worse.
I learned very quickly to stay out of certain bathrooms around campus. Gangs of boys and girls would hang out in there, ready to shove any luckless student into the toilets. So I'd hold it for hours until PE class when I could go. By then, everyone had to go too-- we knew it was safer in the gym restrooms. I also didn't sit on certain benches in the courtyards, because the students gangs had claimed most of them. The one time I did, my girlfriend and I were shoved off. One assistant principal witnessed the whole thing, and when I asked him why he didn't do anything, he said, "Just stay out of the way, and leave them alone." Excuse me? Since when was sitting on a bench in the courtyard a crime?
Additionally, my backpack was stolen twice and tossed over the 2nd story balcony into a mud puddle, my food thrown in my lap during lunch, and my chair taken away during class. When I told my parents, they just told me to ignore the bulies or stay away from them. Pretty soon, I went to school with a stomache every day, but I also knew no amount of begging to stay home would work. So I just curled up into a ever smaller ball, and stayed quiet.
But school wasn't actually the worse part. The bus ride after school was the worst. My Mom was still very ill, and couldn't pick us up from school, and the bus route wouldn't take us all the way home. So my sister and I rode the bus from school to the base library on Hickam AFB, and we'd wait there until my Dad finished work and could take us home.
Every day after school, no matter where I was in line, I wasn't allowed to get on the bus until the very end. Both the boys and the girls shoved whoever they wanted to the back of the line. I gave up after the first few days of school and just waited at the end to avoid a fight. But it didn't stop there. Nobody would let me sit next to them. Nobody. It was probably a good 20 minute drive to the base library, and I'd stand up the whole way.
One day, one of the particularly mean girls unzipped my backpack all the way open. Out spilled the contents, pencils, pens, books...everything. I tried to pick up the items, but the girls kicked my belongings all over the bus, and the boys stepped on the rest, refusing to let me get them. We finally stopped at the library, and the bus driver yelled at the kids to stop it. I was able to quickly grab most of my things, and got off the bus. My sister and I made it into the library, I asked the librarian to use the phone, and called my Dad. I hadn't cried one tear up until now, but I'll never forget the sympathetic looks the librarian gave me while I sobbed my heart out.
Dad told me to hang on, and he'd be there as soon as he could. The next day, he went to the principal's office and demanded action. He was a military officer, and he wouldn't take bull from anyone. After that, the bus driver made sure to leave one seat free for my sister and I right behind him on the bus. We were relieved, and even more relieved when we moved from Hawaii to Georgia.
Looking back on it now, I learned a LOT in eight grade. For whatever reason, my mother refused to get me a training bra, but she did get a cami for me to wear under my shirts. I guess the girls thought I wasn't paying attention in the locker room, but man...I heard all kinds of things in there. I know you know what I'm talking about. My Mom didn't tell me anything about the opposite sex, how I would develop, nothing. So I quietly digested information, and filed it away in my brain for later.
Maybe it was a good thing I was so ignorant. Thanks to what I heard and very dire warnings from my Mom, ( who instilled unecessary fear in me) I didn't date anyone seriously until my senior year of college. That man turned out to be my husband, and I thank God every day for him.
Back to my story. I ended up going to 2 different high schools. The first one was a fine arts magnet school in downtown August Georgia. I LOVED it there. Everyone had a talent; I played in orchestra and sang in the girls chorus. I was teased a little, but by now, I'd learned a few smart comebacks, and it wasn't mean teasing, it was things like, "Hey, don't you know how to tune your own violin?" I was happy, had a few good friends, and I wasn't a scholar or a violin prodigy, but there was a feeling of belonging.
We had to move toward the end of my junior year to El Paso, Texas, (yes, I was devasted) and the high school was vastly different. I went from a class of 68 to over 700 students. Again, I was confronted with mean girls and long established cliques, but I buckled down on my schoolwork and played violin in the orchestra like mad. I didn't fit in, but I wasn't a total reject either--I made a couple of friends. I knew deep down nobody really cared about me, but I held on to the fact I was going to college in a year, and wouldn't have to tolerate the harassement for long.
Going to college 700 miles away was amazing. Having moved so many times, I knew it was an opportunity to start all over again and meet new people. I soon had a supportive circle of friends at the Catholic church I attended. And I was never harassed, teased, or bullied after that.
Now, I don't worry about myself. I worry about my kids. I am seriously considering homeschooling my girls through middle school. (Our oldest son needs the structure and routine of school with his ADHD). Nearly every woman I've talked to has said the same thing:
"Middle school was HELL. Absolute HELL."
Enough said, right? I can't even think about putting my girls through 1/4 of what I went through. Sure, every school nowadays has anti-bullying policies. But I honestly don't believe them or trust them. David usually has a "Oh, don't worry about that" approach, but he has listened to me. I'm already praying Joshua will not be teased or bullied in middle school. I'm starting to think (but not necessarily approve) of David's idea--if Joshua is bullied at school, he'll teach him how to throw a punch or two if or when it becomes intolerable. Of course we do NOT condone violence in our house, but I truly believe bullies cannot be ignored. They will keep at it...they don't stop, and the school is usually powerless to do anything.
It goes back to what I said at the beginning of this post: Bullies need love and attention too...if they're not getting it from home, they will seek attention and take out their feelings out in other, negative ways. It's hard to look at it from the other side, but when I think about all those mean girls...I know they didn't have a loving home environment. My parents may not have been supportive and understanding when I needed it most, but they did teach me right from wrong. As a mother now, I will not let my kids call each other names, tease their siblings, or pick on others. And trying to tolerate that kind of behavior does not make a kid tough, it only makes them feel smaller than small. That is not what our faith teaches us. And it really doesn't matter what faith you are...a fundamental lesson of life all children should learn is this:
"Treat others the way you would want to be treated." The Golden Rule. How I wish it was a reality, that every child followed this simple statement.
Well, this soapbox has gone on long enough. Sadly, I am sure there will be more kids who hurting so much, they will end their own life to stop the pain. I don't know if I was just lucky or my guardian angel was working overtime for many years. I pray kids who need postive reinforcement will get it, so they in turn will become kinder, more gentle human beings, instead of hurting others.
