Monday, November 01, 2010

Bully This!

I can't help it. I've been thinking about my childhood. Why? Because I was picked on and bullied. Also I've thought about the teens who feel they have no choice but to end their lives. I was picked on and laughed at through out my years of school. In grammar school I was small, wore glasses and my last name rhymed with "tomater" so you get the picture. I was shy and small, a perfect target. High school was not much better. My sophomore year was a nightmare because three football players in my fifth period English class made fun of me. They taunted me because I realized I'd get better book report grades if I read harder, "classic" novels. I got straight A's. The football players picked easy books to read and got very bad grades. They gave me the name "Oswald". I dreaded going to class with them so much I threw up nearly every morning. I hated my life because I felt like a misfit and nobody wanted to know the real me. I spent a lot of time alone at school and at home. I was an only child so who did I have to talk to?

My parents talked to me. I didn't really think they understood. But they listened to me. They told me things like "laugh with them, when they laugh at you." I said that would not work. I tried it. It helped. At least I thought that they would never seem me upset. I could be a good actress. After all that is what I wanted to be. Still I was different so I spent a lot of time by myself reading or listening to music. I loved Broadway music. In my mind, I could play every part and sing every song. Too bad I never really could sing. In my junior year I got up the courage to try out for the Junior Play which funded the prom. I became another person. I took the major character role and ran with it. I was at home. Suddenly those football guys saw something different. They quit taunting me.

The question still remains today. What do we do to help those who are being bullied. Where are the parents? I didn't have many of the issues that we have today. I went to segregated schools and really never heard of homosexuality or many other problems children have today. But I was still different. I even told my kids later the same things that my parents told me when they were laughed at by someone. They listened. My oldest daughter had a hard time with a girl in her glass who made fun of her. I told her how to make a joke. The two ended up becoming friends. Who is there for these "misfits" now? I admit not enjoying a lot of my childhood. But my parents were there for me. Teachers were there. Neighbors were there. Ministers were there.

We must do something to stop the bullies. We all grow up. One day the bullies may have their own children. What will they say as parents? Who is at fault? Is it the school systems? Is it the parents? The issues of today are so much more difficult than mine were. What do we say to the kids who enjoy the "power" of being the bully? Does it make them feel important? Does it make them bigger? How many will end up in a life of crime? When will they look at themselves and be ashamed of what they did? I don't have an answer. I don't know why one child becomes a bully and the other one doesn't. I remember hearing Hillary Clinton say, "It takes a village to raise a child". Our village is not doing it's job. Maybe the village idiot is running things? We must stop this now.


Unknown said...

We are here in Iraq killing every day
Solutions your problems coming by Destruction the small nations like us ...This is not a genius… Justice will coming

Kraneia said...

:puzzles the above message:

Uhmmm...okayyy... My Justice is just fine, thank you.

......What I was here ORIGINALLY to say, was that I was bulled in middle/highschool too, by a cousin who had issues and parents who wouldn't believe their little darling "would EVER do such a thing"

I believe suicide is the permenant solution to what is most likely a temporary problem.....but I see and understand how they come to that solution.

I thought about it. for about 15 minutes. Then I realized I annoyed them more by staying around, and the folks you're "getting back at" really don't care, you're only hurting the ones who do love you... so I stuck around a little bit longer.

The most prized possession in my home: that high school diploma, which I survived being stuffed in lockers, pushed down flights of stairs, and having complete strangers try to run me over with bicycles just to get.

Stop by sometime!