As a concerned parent and an employee of a school district, I take a very strong stance on bullying. My reasons are personal. I was a victim of intense bullying at school and at one point when I was thirteen and surviving the seventh grade, I became so depressed that it bordered suicidal. If it wasn’t for my parents, most particularly my mom, I worry about what could have been.
I believe my generation is attempting to rewrite all the wrongs that were considered a normal part of childhood. As wonderful as my parents were, bullying was something that was accepted. It was something you survived and it made you stronger. The stakes are higher though, we have social media. Bullying is now immediate. It follows teenagers home so that even the safety of their bedroom is no longer a sanctuary.
Bullying had a lasting effect on me and I’ve done everything in my power to turn it around into something positive. What I find interesting is my mom has now opened up to me about her feelings towards what I was dealing with. She was struggling right along with me. Every time I was bullied, she was being bullied. I was never truly alone. So, before I start crying while writing this post I’m going to share a funny story about my bullying years. My mom reminded me of this story only a few weeks ago.
I barely survived seventh grade and was not looking forward to eighth grade. My parents had looked into options. We toured two private christian schools and had a meeting with the public school. My mom was determined to turn things around for me. Ultimately, I decided to stay at the public school as long as my mom hand-picked my teachers. My mom chose for me a block teacher, an older lady who she had also had as a child. She was a kind, caring, gentle woman with years of experience. She came as the most highly recommended middle school teacher.
I started school and she was only my teacher for less than a week before she had a medical emergency. The school immediately handed over her position to a permanent substitute. A young woman in her twenties, right out of school, takes over my class. She was a spunky, snooty, ex-cheerleader with a strong political agenda. She immediately gravitates towards all the mean girls and whether or not she realized it, she only deepened the chasm between bullies and the bullied.
When you have spent your entire life as an attractive, popular, rich girl, you often times, don’t see the regular kids. The kids who very obviously are on the outside. The kids who are struggling. It’s so obvious to me when I work as a substitute. I see every face. She couldn’t. To make matters worse, she pushed her political agendas, which were to be honest, inappropriate.
She literally moved our chairs so that we sat in our specified social groups. She always called on the popular kids for special projects. She perceived sexual harassment as flirting. She labeled me as a violent kid because after a boy consistently was making fun of my complexion and blowing burps at me, I stabbed him with a pencil. I reported him and she did nothing so I took matters into my own hand with a sharpened pencil. As much as I knew it was wrong, he learned his lesson.
During spirit week, I put together a sixties outfit. She went around to each student who had dressed up and called them all over for a group photo. Everyone that was but me. When I told her about it, she looked me up and down and said, “That’s not really a sixties outfit.” I wasn’t in the picture.
I also had my first official boyfriend that year and we would walk around campus at lunch, holding hands and talking awkwardly. He was a nice boy. When my teacher caught wind that I had a boyfriend, she assumed I was late for class because I had been making out. In reality, I was in the bathroom dealing with my period. She called me out in front of the entire class, while all the bullies laughed and made faces at me. One of the boys even said. “That’s so disgusting. Who would kiss you?” She did nothing, only smiled and reminded everyone in a fake voice, to be nice. I felt demoralized.
Finally, the moment happened where I snapped. One of the bullies, made a comment to me during a math test. I had studied for this test and was hopeful that I would make a decent grade. I nodded my head and whispered. “Oh.”
My teacher flipped out at me. She conveniently hadn’t heard the other student but she was willing to make an example out of me over the word, “Oh.” She kicked me out of her classroom and sent me outside to wait under the eave while it down poured. I stood out there, fuming and I decided that I was going to march myself down to the counselors office and report her…for everything. To this day, I don’t know how she knew but she stationed one of my tormentors at the window to watch me, in case I left. Somehow, she knew or feared that I was going to get her in trouble.
I had a secret that she didn’t know about. I had self-worth. I was going to stand up for myself even if I was standing alone. I left anyway. She ran after me through the rain and managed to haul me back into class. She took me into the walk in book closet and before she could get a word in, I went off on her. I called her out for everything…absolutely everything! She actually listened and to be honest, I think she was shocked. I even went so far as to tell her, “I have never made out with a boy! You basically called me loose (I used a different word) in front of everyone. I was on my period! I have been dealing with sexual harassment under your watch! And now, you take away my chance of completing my test. I’m trying to get decent grades so I can have a future and get out of this awful town!”
She takes a deep breath and I hope that she sees me now with a little more respect. She lets me finish my test in the closet, alone and in peace. She does back off after that and class became a little more tolerable.
Okay, so now onto the funny part. After another miserable week at school, my mom takes me to the mall to unwind. We’re in a clothing store having a great time, when all of a sudden she turns to talk to me and I’m gone. I’ve completely disappeared. I caught site of my horrid teacher and I dove between a circular clothing rack, balancing my feet on the stands so that I was completely hidden. I was never allowed as a child to play or hide in the racks at stores. Now, here I am, fourteen-years-old and at the end of my tether.
When my mom figures out where I’ve gone, she’s shocked. “What on earth are you doing in there? Get out!” She hisses.
“No, she’s there! My teacher is there!” I whisper back. “I have to deal with her at school. I shouldn’t have to deal with her at the mall!”
My mom, bless her heart covers for me. She keeps a watch and when my teacher disappears, she tells me it’s safe to come out. We never spoke about that afternoon but my Mom found it amusing. She never understood until that moment just how desperate I was to get away from that woman and what lengths I was willing to go to.
At the end of my eighth grade year, I decided to be the bigger person. The last week of school, my teacher had allowed me to join another block class for the end of the year activities. I walked down to her classroom on the very last day of school with two of my good friends for moral support and said, “Good bye and Good luck.”
She did seem surprised but I hope she saw me for what I truly was. A good kid. The amazing thing about that whole year, despite her terrible treatment of me, is that she never hurt me. It never affected my self-esteem or the way I viewed myself. I never felt less. I’ve also never had a bad teacher since. From High school to College, I’ve been blessed with some of the most incredible teachers.
In life, we all have to deal with the unpleasant. Bullying shouldn’t exist but unfortunately it does. So, when I’m working and looking out at the faces of each and every child, I remember my fourteen-year-old self. At the end of the day, no matter who we are, we all need a clothing rack to hide in!
