Bullying has been around since Ug first drew cave critters, but only in the past few years has it routinely made the news. It can be dreadful, even resulting in suicide, but I wonder if parents’ and teachers’ aggressive involvement and proposed anti-bullying legislation are the best responses.
I’m not advocating laissez faire. Extreme, ongoing cases of bullying must be dealt with, but I wonder if the tendency of some parents to take charge at the first provocation aggravates the problem and makes their kids feel weak and helpless.
I was bullied, and although the incidences didn’t last for longer than a few months, they made my life a misery.
I was 10: my tormentors were two fifteen-year-old boys in my Grade 5 class. (In the ‘50s students remained in a grade until their teacher determined they’d mastered the skills necessary to move on.) Jake and Monty were Grade 5 veterans.
Each day, before and after school, they amused themselves and terrorized me by blocking my path to school or home.
They didn’t hurt me physically: Jake and Monty specialized in intimidation. That was easily accomplished as they towered over me. I’d move to the right; one of them, usually Jake, would block my path. I’d move to the left; same thing. When they tired of the game or the bell rang, they’d let me pass.
I’d complained about them at home, though I minimised my worry and fear. From previous experience I understood that complaining to a teacher was futile.
But something happened one fine spring day when Jake got in my face and space. For the first and only time in my life I literally saw red, and through a mist of scarlet rage I made a fist and punched Jake in the stomach with all the strength I could muster. I remember his shocked expression, followed immediately by his retaliatory punch. Then Jake and Monty ran off, and I went home clutching my sore stomach. I curled up on my bed and cried.
The next morning I was full of dread as I walked the path to school, but neither Jake nor Monty appeared. They never bothered me again.
Even then, I understood that my 10-year-old weakling fist hadn’t hurt Jake physically, but I could imagine the injury to his pride. He hadn’t hit me hard, either. His response was a reflex action.
Taking charge of my own problem did wonders for me! I became more resilient, more independent. I felt strong.
If my parents, the school, or the law had got involved, imagine the possible outcome for Jake and Monty. Both came from disadvantaged homes. They might have been sent to reform school where they’d have learned more and better ways to victimise people. I don’t know what became of Monty, but Jake grew up to be a fine man with a civic conscience who makes himself available to help the elderly.
So I’m an advocate for allowing children to take the reins sometimes. Leaving it to the kids may ensure a molehill won’t become a mountain.
*Jake and Monty are pseudonyms.
