Bullying Is A Tricky Business

Jonah Mowry's 'Whats Goin On' video

The other day, in one of my education methodology courses, we were discussing the new laws being set in place against bullying. The discussion was especially interesting for us, as two students from our town had committed suicide in the last week due to bullying. Now, don’t get me wrong, I personally am a fan of the laws and the message they promote. However, I kept thinking about how confusing the idea of bullying is for some kids. It caused me to think about a realization I had after running into one of my old bullies from school. We think that those that hurt us do it completely on purpose. We think they will remember the hurt they inflict. Oddly enough, this is not always the case.
          

Indiana mom takes on bullying after daughter's suicide- courierpress.com

I grew up the “bastard” child of the North and the South. My mother and father were both Appalachian, having grown up in an impoverished mountain region of Alabama called Sand Mountain. I am to this day the only person in my family to not be born on the mountain. A good part of my childhood was spent on I-65, in frequent trips back and forth from Alabama to Indiana, sometimes for vacation, sometimes to live. Though I love my family, coming from a Southern home was not always easy. We moved around a lot when I was younger; Mama found it hard to settle, always looking for something a little better. Frequent moves meant I was always the new kid. While being the new kid isn’t easy for anyone, it didn’t help that I wasn’t the best at blending in. An awkward child, I grew faster than the rest of the girls at school, reaching 5’6’’ by the eighth grade and 5’9’’ by my sophomore year of high school. When you’re a girl, big is never a good thing. Adding to my ‘unique’ characteristics, I had acquired my parent’s Southern twang and a plethora of expressions that were normal in our household, but after constant teasing, I learned many of our expressions were a part of a Southern dialect foreign to the Midwest. I even ate different foods, constantly being asked what a “grit” was. After awhile, I just tried to avoid speaking altogether. Elementary school was a nightmare for me. I was different, and the girls never let me forget it. I blamed by Southern roots for my social failure, thinking it made me lesser than the girls at all the northern schools.  I worked hard to get rid of the accent that had plagued me throughout my youth, but it never made a difference. I was different, and that was enough to solidify my place at the bottom of the social food chain.

Now, I was never beat up, never humiliated in front of the entire lunchroom, and never shoved in a locker (partially, I am sure, because I would not have fit). This said, I was ostracized with the best of them.  The schools I went to were different, but they all had one thing in common—believing that I was so “uncool” that any contact with me would make everyone else uncool as well was, in fact, the cool thing to believe.  Yes, simply knowing I was a loser and avoiding me at all costs could boost your social standing. You’re welcome.

 I lived my life as a social pariah. In class, I sat alone. Hearing the phrase “pick a partner” was my worst nightmare. I spent recess sitting on the sidewalk, braiding blades of grass, listening to the other kids play. At lunch, I sat at a table alone, watching everyone else pack themselves into already full tables. Knowing that kids would rather not be able to set their trays down or find a chair rather than sit near you can really bring you down. My attendance was horrible because school was so miserable for me. Every year, I would find out exactly how many days I could miss without failing, and I missed them. I never ate breakfast in the mornings because my stomach was so tied in knots from the fear of what was ahead that I would be sick. For grades 1-5, this was my life.  Thankfully, in high school, we moved (yet again) to a school where things were different. I do not know why. I do not know how. All I know is, for the first time in my life, people said something more to me than, “Nice hat. Does your Mommy still pick out your clothes?” or,” Sorry. This is our table. You need to leave.” Slowly, but surely, the smiles turned to hellos, the hellos turned to friends, and the friends turned to a comfortable social standing (one free of name calling). After that, we stayed put for a while. I enjoyed high school, and learned to love myself. I was finally done with the bullies—or so I thought.

For more information on bullying and what you and your
state can do to make a difference, visit stopbullying.gov

One day, while walking through Kroger in my hometown, I heard someone yell, “Savannah Hoskins?” I turned around to see one of the girls who had been president of the Teasing Savannah Committee during elementary school. I froze. I wanted to run. I wanted to hide. I wanted to be anywhere but there, looking at the face that had haunted me for years. Then, suddenly, she was hugging me. I was dumbfounded. “Oh my gawd! How are yooou?” she sang. “I haven’t seen you in forever! How are things? I thought you moved? Are you in school? ” She continued to cheerfully shoot out questions, polite as she could be. I simply stood there awkwardly, slowly regressing into the scared little misfit that I had been so long ago. I answered her quietly with short answers, hoping it would be enough to make her leave. “Ugh, can you believe it has been so long? Where has the time gone? I hated elementary school. I always felt so insecure. Tiffany was soo mean back then! But I remember you were always so sweet.” My jaw dropped. I did not believe what I was hearing. Finally she said, “Well, I have to go. We are having a little get together down at the lake house tonight; I am just grabbing some supplies. Oh my gawd, you totally have to come! Here is my number!” She quickly jotted down seven digits on a Kleenex from her purse and shoved it in my hand. “I hope you come. It would be sooo gooooood to hang out. I love running into old friends!” And with that, she was gone. I couldn’t believe it. She had no recollection of the pain she had caused me, no idea that the mere knowledge that she and her friends would be at school was enough to make me sick with nerves every morning. In her mind, we were old school chums.

It was then that I realized that bullying is not black and white. Kids, for the most part, do not label themselves as bullies. When my own bully was putting me down and making my life miserable, she was only thinking of how it would make her look. It had never occurred to her that it was affecting me. The thing that really threw me was that my bully had had a bully! I remembered Tiffany as her best friend. She remembered her as the person who made her feel like, well, me. She had no idea that I had felt bullied, at least not seriously.

The idea of what bullying is differs for kids. I think that for most boys, they believe bullying is shoving people into lockers or beating them up after school. Girls think of it as publically humiliating someone or, these days, posting horrible things about them publically online. These things are easy to associate with bullying because they are grand gestures of hatred, reinforced by teenage movie scenes. We have all seen the movies I am talking about. The student walks into school, everyone staring at her and giggling. Next thing she knows, her face is plastered on posters across the school saying something rude and degrading. They run out of the room, crying hysterically, as the lunchroom breaks into laughter. This is all fine in the movies, but how often does bullying happen that openly? In the real world, if students posted cruel pictures of another student all over the school, there is a very good chance the people responsible are going to get caught and are going to get in trouble.

It is often the small things that make a huge impact. The things adults write off by saying, “Oh, you know how teenage girls are.” Most people do not associate ignoring someone as a form of bullying. It does not seem severe enough. Truth be told, I would feel inclined to say no as well. With my experience, however, I know that it is the ostracizing and little snide remarks that can erode self-esteem to the point of feeling like nothing. For most kids, bullying happens on a smaller scale (and without Hollywood camera’s and proper lighting). A smaller scale, however, does not mean it is any less hateful or has any less of an impact. If you ask a student if he believes he is a bully, nine times out of ten he is going to say no. Very few kids see themselves in that light. In addition, if a student does not think what they are doing is bullying, what is going to stop them? The trouble is, how do you discipline that? You can’t force kids to be friends. There is no golden answer that is going to put a stop to bullying. All we can do is try to make kids see how their actions have an effect on those around them, and try to watch out for them best we can.