Saturday
Aug012009
The bully who defined me
Saturday, August 1, 2009
I was four years old. I had just started preschool. I was excited, interested, curious, I think. I knew a few kids in my class, the ones who lived on my street or whose parents were friends with my parents, but there were many new faces too. During the first few days of school the teacher created a calendar on the wall with all of our birthdays on it. I remember standing, looking at the wall, and smiling seeing my name up there with my birthday next to it. But then, without any notice and completely out of left field, my life changed.
"I don't like my birthday" the beautiful blond girl with the cute clothes standing next to me said to the teacher.
"Why not?" asked the teacher.
"Because it is the same day as Annie's birthday and I don't like Annie." she replied.
I'm not sure what the teacher said next. Probably something along the lines of "that isn't a very nice thing to say" or "why would you say that?" I wasn't really listening to the teacher at that point though. I was in shock. My world had been rocked. I didn't even know this girl, we had only just met, and yet she had already decided she didn't like me. There must be something horribly wrong with me.
As is so often the case, beautiful little blond girls with cute clothes are at the top of the social totem pole when children congregate. Her dislike of me meant not only that I could not be her friend, but it also meant that I couldn't be friends with anyone who she was friends with, that I couldn't talk to anyone who she was friends with, and that I'd better not do anything at all to stand out otherwise I risked being ridiculed.
This started when I was four years old and it continued all through kindergarten, elementary school, and high school. If I wore the wrong clothes I got ridiculed. If I wore the right clothes I got ridiculed for trying to imitate them. If I showed interest in a boy who was above me on the social ladder, I was ridiculed for thinking I could ever have a chance with him. If I showed interest in a boy who was at my level on the social ladder, I was ridiculed for liking a geek, a nerd, or a loser. If I got good grades, I was ridiculed. If I got bad grades, I was ridiculed. If I god forbid tripped and fell or did something else that made others notice me, I wasn't offered help or empathy, I was ridiculed. The list goes on.
When a new girl arrived at our school, I had to play a waiting game. I had to wait to see whether she would be adopted by the popular girls. If she was, it was hands off for me. I would be shunned if I tried to talk to her. But if they rejected her, I could try to befriend her. I remember one horrible instance where a new girl was befriended by the popular girls. At least, we thought she had been. They invited her to sit with them at lunch, they talked with her at recess, and they even pretended to fix her up with one of the popular boys. They set up a time for them to meet privately, under a tree, during recess. She stood there and waited. She waited for the boy. Hopeful and anxious, but encouraged by the words of her so-called friends. He never showed. It had all been a big joke. They just wanted to see her standing there, to see her devastated, to see her cry. I remember one of them, most certainly not the pretty blond girl I talked about at the start, coming to apologize to her for how horrible they had been. But none of the others did and she certainly was not welcome to be their friend. She was now one of us. A reject.
I wasn't an angel either, at least not after that pivotal moment at age four. Protecting my spot, as undesirable as it was, on the social totem pole was important. There were times when I was nasty to others in order to preserve my space. That included being nasty to those lower on the social totem pole than me, so as to not get dropped down to their level. It also included being nasty to anyone that dared try to creep up the social totem pole. We couldn't risk having one of ours become one of theirs.
I hated the game. I hated the fact that the only way to get through a day unscathed was to fade into the background. To not be noticed. To hope that someone else would screw up more than me and be the target of their wrath. Being a wall flower was my aim. But I hated it. It wasn't me. So when I turned 15, I threw caution to the wind and decided to get the hell out. I went on an overseas exchange program. At my new school, I learned what the world was supposed to be like. There were cliques. There were popular kids and not so popular kids. But there was no nastiness between them. If I did need or want to speak to someone who was more popular than I was, neither of us needed to fear being ridiculed for it. I didn't have any illusions of becoming the most popular girl at school, but it was nice to be able to go about my day, with all of its good points and bad points, without having to worry about being made fun of. That is what it was like at this school overseas, at the pre-university college that I later went to back home (I purposely chose the one that the other people from my high school would not be going to), and at the universities that I later went to. Sure, people may still judge a book by its cover more often than not in life, but once I escaped from my high school I realized that just because someone didn't want to hang out with me, didn't mean that they were going to make fun of me.
My father finds it difficult to understand why I haven't expressed any desire to raise my family in this idyllic little town, a place that he grew up and that he chose to raise his family. It was a small town without the bad influences that sometimes come with a large city. It had plenty of recreational opportunities and green space and other young families. My father was a local business owner, having taken over his father's business when he passed away. He and my mother chose this place to raise a family for all of the right reasons. They couldn't have foreseen this. It wasn't their fault.
I eventually got over it. After I escaped and found out that the whole world is not like that hell hole. But there are still times when I feel a twinge of trepidation in certain social environments. When I am in my old home town in places where people I went to school with congregate, I try to fade into the background, to hide, to not get noticed. When I am in a new social environment, I do often worry initially that it may end up being like the place I grew up. Thankfully, I am usually quickly put at ease when I find out that it is not.
But my experience leaves me wondering and worried. As a parent, will I know if my child is being bullied? Even if I do know, will I truly be able to do anything about it? Or worse, what if my child is the bully and I don't know about it? There are great resources out there on bullying, I know that. I try to teach my children to be tolerant of people that are different from them, as does our school system. But I still feel somewhat helpless. As does my friend.
So I worry.
"I don't like my birthday" the beautiful blond girl with the cute clothes standing next to me said to the teacher.
"Why not?" asked the teacher.
"Because it is the same day as Annie's birthday and I don't like Annie." she replied.
I'm not sure what the teacher said next. Probably something along the lines of "that isn't a very nice thing to say" or "why would you say that?" I wasn't really listening to the teacher at that point though. I was in shock. My world had been rocked. I didn't even know this girl, we had only just met, and yet she had already decided she didn't like me. There must be something horribly wrong with me.
As is so often the case, beautiful little blond girls with cute clothes are at the top of the social totem pole when children congregate. Her dislike of me meant not only that I could not be her friend, but it also meant that I couldn't be friends with anyone who she was friends with, that I couldn't talk to anyone who she was friends with, and that I'd better not do anything at all to stand out otherwise I risked being ridiculed.
This started when I was four years old and it continued all through kindergarten, elementary school, and high school. If I wore the wrong clothes I got ridiculed. If I wore the right clothes I got ridiculed for trying to imitate them. If I showed interest in a boy who was above me on the social ladder, I was ridiculed for thinking I could ever have a chance with him. If I showed interest in a boy who was at my level on the social ladder, I was ridiculed for liking a geek, a nerd, or a loser. If I got good grades, I was ridiculed. If I got bad grades, I was ridiculed. If I god forbid tripped and fell or did something else that made others notice me, I wasn't offered help or empathy, I was ridiculed. The list goes on.
When a new girl arrived at our school, I had to play a waiting game. I had to wait to see whether she would be adopted by the popular girls. If she was, it was hands off for me. I would be shunned if I tried to talk to her. But if they rejected her, I could try to befriend her. I remember one horrible instance where a new girl was befriended by the popular girls. At least, we thought she had been. They invited her to sit with them at lunch, they talked with her at recess, and they even pretended to fix her up with one of the popular boys. They set up a time for them to meet privately, under a tree, during recess. She stood there and waited. She waited for the boy. Hopeful and anxious, but encouraged by the words of her so-called friends. He never showed. It had all been a big joke. They just wanted to see her standing there, to see her devastated, to see her cry. I remember one of them, most certainly not the pretty blond girl I talked about at the start, coming to apologize to her for how horrible they had been. But none of the others did and she certainly was not welcome to be their friend. She was now one of us. A reject.
I wasn't an angel either, at least not after that pivotal moment at age four. Protecting my spot, as undesirable as it was, on the social totem pole was important. There were times when I was nasty to others in order to preserve my space. That included being nasty to those lower on the social totem pole than me, so as to not get dropped down to their level. It also included being nasty to anyone that dared try to creep up the social totem pole. We couldn't risk having one of ours become one of theirs.
I hated the game. I hated the fact that the only way to get through a day unscathed was to fade into the background. To not be noticed. To hope that someone else would screw up more than me and be the target of their wrath. Being a wall flower was my aim. But I hated it. It wasn't me. So when I turned 15, I threw caution to the wind and decided to get the hell out. I went on an overseas exchange program. At my new school, I learned what the world was supposed to be like. There were cliques. There were popular kids and not so popular kids. But there was no nastiness between them. If I did need or want to speak to someone who was more popular than I was, neither of us needed to fear being ridiculed for it. I didn't have any illusions of becoming the most popular girl at school, but it was nice to be able to go about my day, with all of its good points and bad points, without having to worry about being made fun of. That is what it was like at this school overseas, at the pre-university college that I later went to back home (I purposely chose the one that the other people from my high school would not be going to), and at the universities that I later went to. Sure, people may still judge a book by its cover more often than not in life, but once I escaped from my high school I realized that just because someone didn't want to hang out with me, didn't mean that they were going to make fun of me.
My father finds it difficult to understand why I haven't expressed any desire to raise my family in this idyllic little town, a place that he grew up and that he chose to raise his family. It was a small town without the bad influences that sometimes come with a large city. It had plenty of recreational opportunities and green space and other young families. My father was a local business owner, having taken over his father's business when he passed away. He and my mother chose this place to raise a family for all of the right reasons. They couldn't have foreseen this. It wasn't their fault.
I eventually got over it. After I escaped and found out that the whole world is not like that hell hole. But there are still times when I feel a twinge of trepidation in certain social environments. When I am in my old home town in places where people I went to school with congregate, I try to fade into the background, to hide, to not get noticed. When I am in a new social environment, I do often worry initially that it may end up being like the place I grew up. Thankfully, I am usually quickly put at ease when I find out that it is not.
But my experience leaves me wondering and worried. As a parent, will I know if my child is being bullied? Even if I do know, will I truly be able to do anything about it? Or worse, what if my child is the bully and I don't know about it? There are great resources out there on bullying, I know that. I try to teach my children to be tolerant of people that are different from them, as does our school system. But I still feel somewhat helpless. As does my friend.
So I worry.
Reader Comments (66)
What Annie said.
[...] and stones may break my bones, but being called an idiot won’t bully me into not questioning [...]
Sorry to hear about your experience. I definately identified with you. High school was a horrible time for me. See, I'm not very witty, not extremely funny, and not too athletic. I was picked on - a lot. I was a loner - desperately wanting acceptance and not getting acceptance.
It actually worked out pretty well for me, because for years I had been thinking about making a decision to follow Jesus Christ. However, I kept holding myself back from giving Christ my heart, out of fear of rejection. Once it was established that I was pretty much totally rejected by nearly all of my peers (except for a few friends who were themselves rejected), I recognized that allowing myself to be held back from Christ by the fear of ridicule of bullies is stupid. So, when I was 16, I decided to follow Jesus.
Jesus certainly helped me. First, I was assurred of his love and acceptance of me. Then, he taught me to forgive and to love my enemies and to pray for those who were bullying me. Then he taught me how to stand up against bullying free of malice and hate. I used to play basketball every day with guys from the neighborhood, and every day they talked A LOT of trash - especially to me. I learned to stand up to them - by playing hard, by being socially assertive, and by praying for them.
Then, I went public with my faith free of fear. I gained the reputation as the Jesus Freak. I was ridiculed for this, but I was able to not allow the ridicule to bother me. I responded to ridicule with blessing. I talked about the love of Christ.
It was neat that once I stopped worrying what others thought about me, some people started respecting me - and even let me know it.
Bottom line: Jesus Christ is familiar with rejection, persecution, and suffering. To add to this, he was also familiar with character assassination and finally with an unjust trial, a false conviction, and a shameful and torturous death on the cross.
But if they who crucified him knew what they were doing, they would never have crucified the Lord of glory, for in dying on the cross, Jesus provided atonement for sinners, so that all who believe would be saved.
Thank God for His grace.
Wow - what a story. I wish I could tell you things are different, but I think my daughter lived through some of what you experienced. She met her bully in Kindergarten. I couldn't believe it -- and her teacher and school administrators didn't believe it for most of the school year -- until the bully (not a pretty little blonde, FYI, a very cute little girl from China) organized a day where the rest of the class would pretend my daughter was invisible. (Age 5 this kid was!) We were already seeing a therapist to learn how to deal with bullies (so sad, really, to watch your tiny daughter role playing with a mirror so she can deal with mean girls). The school finally took notice after the invisible thing. (I'll insert here: I'm talking about a Very Expensive private school that we almost left over this and that did expel another child - a boy - that year, but he was punching and kicking kids.) Little bully's parents were called in and defended her to the hilt - the mom called me shrieking and I thought, "that poor child has a crazy mother who will let her get away with anything before it reflects poorly on her" and "this woman is a bigger bully than her daughter!"
Anyway: the good news here is my kid is now 12, she is in Middle School where the bully is still a very cute bully but has absolutely no power over my daughter. My kid learned years ago how to deal with her - and she watches sadly every year when the cute bully (aka the mean girl, aka the popular girl) adopts a new sidekick, who then isn't allowed to speak to my daughter. "She'll be back," she says. ...
For moms worried about their kids - I noticed it was happening pretty fast, I think. Kids come home from school happy, and if that stops, something is up. If they don't want to go to Kindergarten? Something is really up. Plus mine has a built in stress alarm - eczema. Not every kid comes with that handy sign on the backs of their knees :).
I guess my whole point is that while I so wanted to lean over and hiss in that Little Bully's 5-year-old face "if you are mean to her today, I'm going to kill you!" - seven years later I think that rotten little kid did us a favor, and sometimes I see her alone waiting for her mom looking really depressed and I feel sorry for her. Several other girls are just figuring out how to deal with the Mean Girls. My girl has got it down.
Oh - and the therapist at the time told me that my kid; smart, super shy, more than a little quirky, was the perfect target for bullies. I envisioned years of bullying. Didn't happen. She won't let it.
So got some good people skills out of this without letting it (I hope) hurt her.
It took a lot of courage to publish this post. It was very touching.
"Once I realized that, and realized how pathetic and petty their game was {really, if THAT’s how you feel good about yourself, if THAT’s how you gain a sense of power and importance then you’re pretty pathetic}…once I realized that I was able to start healing."
That's what my parents finally told me that helped immensely. I hope to be able to pass along that wisdom to my boys.
[...] might be another word, since no one had the nerve to float a negative one word my way (this is nothing like my school days). Also note that I didn’t ask my partner or one of the words would most likely have been [...]
Great post! Thanks for sharing your story.
I also grew up in a small town with a rigid social hierarchy, and 20 years after moving away, I'm still healing. The best thing for me was going to a university where all the students were smart and geeky and a majority had been social outcasts; that was a great social scene partly because of feeling accepted for who we were and partly because everyone was appreciating it so much by contrast!
At my tenth high school reunion, I was astonished at the number of people who'd ignored me in high school who now wanted to talk with me! I also found that my classmates who'd been the most popular had peaked in high school and were now leading boring lives, while the more awkward kids had grown up to excel. My father had told me about this phenomenon after attending one of his reunions when I was a teenager, but I hadn't expected it to hold true with my class.
My son is in kindergarten. His dad also was bullied as a child, so we feel some fear about what may happen to him. But we take heart that he's attending a school where there are lots of okay "ways to be," not just one, and where almost 1/3 of kids qualify for the gifted program so it's not "weird" to be smart.
Heather: I went to schools where the principals spanked and paddled children frequently. Bullying was a big problem anyway. In fact, some of the bullies reliably would do something awful to another child later in the day after being paddled.
[...] a friend of mine, so that was fine. But the other one was a popular girl and I was…well…not. Every year, I was mortified to the point of almost cancelling my birthday, when my mom insisted [...]
Oh my god. That's so traumatic. And hurtful. And wrong.
Do you think, in hindsight, something could have been done -- right at that 4-year-old birthday moment -- had the teacher had training, empathy and insight to handle it?
When you look at the world and the widespread social conflict, perhaps there should be more teaching and emphasis -- right from the get-go -- on putting yourself in somebody else's shoes.
Funny, the bully defined you and I don't think it's any accident that I want to "save" the world, I tend to always speak up for the underdog and I could. not. wait. to get out of my small, claustrophobic small town. (IMHO, you're the Queen Bee now! : )
Poor little you. It's little consolation but I do believe that it's the hard experiences that shape us, that really challenge our kids to grow. I have to force myself to hold back rage and be calm when my kids are suffering. The real trick is making sure that you see it, that you find out, so that they know you're there.
I feel for your experience and I worry too. We try to teach our children to be considerate of others, help those who are victimized, and come to us should they be, but what if we miss a sign. I had a 'mean-girl' experience in high school, which I wrote about recently, where almost the entire senior class ostracized me, but I dare not call it bullying when I read stories like yours.
Thanks for sharing.
Randi:
I actually wrote about that exact topic in a follow-up post: http://www.phdinparenting.com/2009/08/25/that-which-does-not-kill-us-makes-us-stronger/
Pam:
I don't know. The teacher is one person. I think kids take a lot of cues about how to treat others from what they observe around them and how they are treated. I think modelling kindness, empathy and respect for our children is of the utmost importance.
My child goes through the same thing. My daughter went through it. I ended up changing her school and she flourished, just like you did, in a different environment. I haven't changed my son's but continue to monitor the situation.
I don't really feel that what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. Experiences like these shape your perceptions for life, and it takes great strength and fortitude to overcome them. I know you, and I know you have, I'm sure, for the most part, but there are always those niggling thoughts in the background. I have them myself. You have made the right decision for yourself, not to return to the 'scene of the crime'.
You can only do your best to teach your kids how to treat others. Unfortunately, not everyone does. What IS great is that awareness is so much greater now. We can talk openly to our kids, we can advocate, we can force issues. This is really what's different, because there will ALWAYS be bullies and mean kids.
[...] PhD in Parenting Share This:StumbleUponEmailTwitterFacebookMoreDiggLike this:LikeOne blogger likes this post. 19 Comments by chickymara on February 28, 2012 • Permalink Posted in Family, Life Tagged anti-bullying, avoiding peer pressure, Bully, bystanders, parenting, preventing bullying, the detriment of buzzwords, Violence and Abuse, Youth [...]