Sticks and Stones

I have a hard time remembering 8th grade. I can’t remember which classes I took or who my teachers were. You might think this is because I’m getting on in years and my brain cells are starting to become clogged with 46+ years of memories and information.

The reason I don’t remember much of 8th grade is because I was hardly ever in school. Due to a series of “illnesses”, I was absent more than I was present. Stomach aches were the most frequent cause of my absences. And I can tell you with all honesty that this had nothing to do with a defective digestive system. I missed most of 8th grade because I was bullied.

A friend of mine from 7th grade (let’s call her Elise) was in most of my 8th grade classes. Someone must have thrown a switch in her brain over the summer because early on in 8th grade she decided it would be more fun to torment me than to be friends with me. Or rather, she pretended to be my friend, yet would punch me, write on my clothes and threaten me on a daily basis. She’d sit by me in math, tearing off my book cover and scribbling on my pants in ink. I would bring an assortment of candy, gum and other items to school in the hopes of appeasing her. When the final bell rang on Friday afternoons, I felt like a prisoner released from confinement. On Sunday nights the dread would start to creep in, and I’d find myself going to bed later and later, hoping to delay sleep because of the Monday morning hell that awaited me. Often, I’d plead a stomach ache or a headache, until my mom let me stay home.

Finally, with only a few weeks left of school, I confessed to my parents what was going on. They immediately went to see the principal and my guidance counselor. I don’t remember everything that was discussed, but I do remember that in 9th grade, Elise was in none of my classes. And my best friend Kathy was in all of them.

I wish I had told my parents about the bullying when it first began. Now that I’m a parent, I worry about my own children being bullied. Or bullying someone else. When my kids complain that someone is teasing or taunting them, my husband and I try to dispense practical advice (after I’ve suppressed my first impulse of wanting to track down the offender and really show him what it’s like to be bullied.)

In the movie “A Christmas Story”, Ralphie, the main character, is being bullied by Scut Farkus (yellow eyes!) and his sidekick Grover Dill. At one point the narrator declares, “In our world you were either a bully, a toady or one of the nameless rabble of victims.” After being tormented by Scut Farkus throughout the movie, Ralphie finally snaps and whales the tar out of him. Defeated and deflated, the bully slinks home with a bloody nose and his tail between his legs. While I don’t advocate violence against others, I always feel a sense of satisfaction when the bully is diminished in the eyes of his victims.

In the good old days, bullying was something you might have to endure at school, on the playground or on the bus, but at least you were safe once you arrived home. In the digital age, this is no longer true. I hear many stories from other parents about their children being bullied by text message, via online chat or on Facebook. God knows, I enjoy Facebook as an adult (every day’s a high school reunion), but in the hands of a tween or teenager, it can be a dangerous weapon. If words hurt at the moment they’re spoken, they continue to hurt and fester indefinitely on an online post. Just ask Phoebe Prince of South Hadley. After a combination of physical, verbal and cyber bullying, Phoebe decided the best way to end it was to hang herself. God forbid it comes to that for one of our children.

As parents, what can we do? That’s not a rhetorical question. Seriously, what do we do? I try to keep an open dialogue with my children about what’s going on at school, soccer and their other activities. I know this will only get more difficult as they get older. Many schools address the issue with special assemblies and classroom discussion. And this week, the Massachusetts Senate is set to debate and vote on a proposed anti-bullying bill. All steps in the right direction, but is it enough?

When I heard the story this week about an incident of cyber-bullying going on in my own town, I thought, “There but for the Grace of God go I.” It could just as easily be my child being bullied. Or doing the bullying. I don’t accept bullying as a rite of passage, something that all kids go through as a part of growing up. If my child is being hurt (or doing the hurting), I need to know so I can take steps to stop it.

Remember that old saying, “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can never hurt me”?

If only that were true.