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Bullies come in many forms because bullying is an equal opportunity behavior. The primary function of a bully’s life is to pick on those deemed to provide the least resistance. The kid who pushes another kid into a locker and takes his lunch money is a bully. The teen who taunts and mentally tortures a classmate driving her to suicide is a bully. There have been tragic headlines about cyber bullies as well. There are many ways to create a bully: negligent parenting, school failure, peer rejection, gang affiliation, and sometimes bullies are the victims of mental issues beyond their control requiring intense mental health attention.
I had one bully experience in my life. It was in the third grade. (Early elementary school is often where bullies hone their skills.) We were all on the playground and one of our regular bullies started picking on a small, quiet boy. They were different races but I don't think race mattered to this bully. Race was simply an opportunistic tool he selected from his bag of tricks. A racial slur was spit out at the smaller boy. A few kids gathered around the two boys, the bully spitting and cussing, and the small boy whimpering. I stood in the circle too but I looked around for a teacher. I would not have snitched but I secretly hoped a teacher was out there. I think I was using mental telepathy to get the teachers to look my way. Off in the distance I saw two teachers chatting while watching kids play on the playground equipment and I stared intently at them. We weren’t a large circle of kids and they probably couldn’t see what was happening. We might have been playing marbles for all they knew.
Some of the older kids started urging the two boys on to a fight. Mob rule. I was very young but knew that if the big boy started a fight with the smaller boy, the smaller boy would disappear into dust. I knew both boys but did not play with them because at that age girls and boys didn’t play together much. Part of me wanted to leave but part of me kept dashing desperate looks towards the chatting teachers. About the third time I turned around from glaring at the teachers I heard a “smack” and saw the small boy go down.
I was tall for my age. Taller than most of my classmates. I felt somewhat clumsy and awkward. We all feel that way at times in our development. By seventh grade others caught up with me and I eventually topped off at 5”7’ and I’ve been comfortable with that height. (I’m 5’6” now. Weird.) It gave me then, and it gives me now, a small sense of physical security. I can also produce a nasty “don't bug me” demeanor when necessary. I carry a fondue fork when I walk my dogs and I’m prepared to use it. It’s for off-leash dogs coming after us but there are off-leash humans out there too.
The boy on the ground was no longer whimpering. He was full on crying. The bully started toward him with fists clenched in preparation for a pummeling. I screamed, “Leave him alone!” I do not recall a thought process. I don't remember if I was afraid. To this day I just remember acting and I don't remember thinking. (A character trait in all areas of my life.) The bully turned and came at me like an out of control locomotive. He started calling me names and his face was bright red and he was very sweaty. He was a sturdy fleshy kid about my height. That I do remember—vividly.
The kids had stopped chanting “fight, fight, fight” and stood staring at this new turn of events. He got to about three inches from my face, with his clenched fists, and I knew he was not going to respect the time honored “never hit a girl” code. So I took the heel of my hand and slammed him in the chest with all my might propelling him quite some distance. The combination of his locomotion against my thrust was the end of him. My hand placement was slightly off-center so that he did a rather graceful twirl before he hit the gravel on the side of his face. I heard air escaping when he landed then he skid to a stop. Ouch. The small boy was now on his feet and had stopped crying. He edged himself over in my direction and stood slightly behind me. His savior. Everyone cheered and laughed. The bully cried. I had hurt him. Did my pre‑emptive strike make ME a bully? After all, another popular code in my age group was never hit someone first. It was only acceptable, with limitations, to hit someone after being hit first. I hit the bully first. Oh, crud. I was in trouble.
As it happened this event took place close to my classroom. My teacher must have heard the chanting and came outside just in time to see me slam the bully. She had not been outside to see the entire disaster from the beginning. She was a tall elegant woman and I adored her. She broke through the circle and went immediately to the smaller boy. She looked at his tear-streaked face and checked out his limbs and turned his head left and right looking for injuries then gently told him to go to the nurse’s office. Next, she looked at the now-standing bully and told him in a less than gentle tone (as he picked gravel out of his cheek) to go immediately to the principal’s office and she would be there in a minute. No nurse. She then turned to the crowd and told everyone to disburse and go play a while before the bell rang. I quickly ran off with them attempting to lose myself in the crowd but she caught me. “Sharon! Come back here!” Oh, crap. I was never a fast runner. More of a gymnast.
She put her hand on my shoulder and walked me back to the classroom. She asked if I was okay and did I need to see the nurse. I said I was fine. She looked at me for a few seconds and I noticed a faint smile. She told me to go back outside to get some air while patting me on the shoulder. And that was it.
I’ve thought about that event many times throughout my life when I’ve encountered nasty people. I eventually figured out that the bully had a reputation and the teachers all knew who he was and how he behaved. They also knew the small quiet boy and knew he was not a fighter. And they knew me. I was a fun-loving child, lots of friends, and never created a problem. I lived to play (to the detriment of my academics) and it was probably a miracle I stopped at that circle of kids because usually I was hanging upside down on the jungle gym on the other side of the playground. Or at the top of the large walnut tree obscured from adult eyes. Unfortunately for the bully, I was very strong because of those activities.
I’m sure it was easy for the principal, the teacher, and the bully, in their subsequent meeting, to ferret out what had happened that day and I wasn’t needed. I don't remember seeing the bully again but I do remember seeing the small boy all the way through half of the 8th grade before my family moved. His name was Bob.
The sad research I did to prepare for this blog didn’t tell me anything new. We all know bullies. And it’s a behavior not restricted to children. We have bullies everywhere. And the term “bully” is very broad and there are defined sub groups for the various types of bullies such as verbal, physical, psychological, and so on. It was also not a surprise to learn that bullies are often mistreated at home. Sometimes it’s by parents but sometimes by older siblings or neighborhood kids (or entire neighborhood dynamics) and the parents/authorities don't or won’t control it. Some parents think kids need to toughen up. That thinking works. It creates little monsters. It also creates victims.
Workplace bullying is alive and well. Sometimes it’s by superiors to subordinates but very often it’s peer abuse. Some literally do fight to get to the top using all manner of behaviors to attain their goals. Believe it or not, the physical abusers are somewhat easier to deal with in society because it’s a clear violation of the law to assault someone. Psychological and verbal bullying is harder to deal with but no less traumatizing to the victim. I was stunned to learn that suicide related to bullying is on the increase. Partly because it’s being reported more accurately and investigated more thoroughly but in the past, even long ago in human history, subordination by bullying has been part of our human evolution. Remember Clan of the Cave Bear? (Reality TV comes to mind as assisting the evolution of bullying by exploiting human degradation, honoring the bully, and feeding it all to the masses.)
Many schools have developed ways to deal with bullies when they are able to spot them. Because we have a strong anti-snitch rule amongst youngsters it isn’t always easy to find the bully and deal with him. I say “him” but certainly girls bully too. Boys just do it physically more often than girls. In statistically larger numbers. Girls are now using more mental forms of bullying via social networking and texting: tech bullies. Malicious little malcontents.
The bully all too often crosses the line from common bully to criminal. If left unchecked a bully learns they can have almost everything they want (cell phone, sneakers, lunch money--attention) by pushing kids around. That loot will not suffice when they reach young adulthood so they graduate to weapons and the general prison population gets new friends. It is not surprising to note that many bullies have image and self-esteem issues. Like the bully in my childhood.
He was a flabby kid, poorly dressed, not terribly healthy looking, not very clean, squinty eyes (I’m not kidding) and I do not recall a single pleasant thing about his appearance or personality. I suspect he was one of those boys who made it through puberty with a diet of snack foods and a body to match. I do not recall whether or not he had a group of kids he hung out with. I, on the other hand, was a curly-haired blond with cute dresses my grandma made for me and a nice fresh one was taken from my closet each morning and I went off to school quite the little princess after having a breakfast of hot chocolate and cinnamon toast usually with my mom and grandma but sometimes my dad too. (Did I mention I was an only child?) What did the little bully have and did his grandma make his clothes? Did he have hot chocolate and cinnamon toast? No. I’m sure he lived a sour life with a sour family. It didn’t make me sad then but it does now.
Though the authorities have come up with hundreds of plans to thwart bullies, the best plan is good parenting. It’s amazing what simple parenting can do. No fancy equipment is needed. Just a loving parent/adult or two (though one works very well) spending as many hours a day as possible with their kids explaining how much they love them, going to all their plays, concerts, and games, and teacher meetings, cooking dinner every night, watching movies with them, talking to them, taking them places even if it’s only to the grocery store (so many leave their kids at home when they grocery shop because they don't want the hassle but it’s a wonderful missed opportunity to communicate and argue about food purchases and whether or not a 14-year-old can go out with his or her older friends who have cars while other shoppers are critiquing our parenting skills), and working hard to provide for them by going to a job every day of the week (which is also a role model thing).
Parents don't have to be rich, they don't have to be educated, and they don't have to be particularly clever or smart. They just have to love their kids and be with them as much as they possibly can every day and treat them kindly and lovingly and firmly and get on them when they screw up. Those homes do not produce bullies. Oh, throw a nice dog or two into the mix, maybe a cat, stir, and instead of bullies you get sweethearts. I did.
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