Author: Annette Leasure, IUPUI School of Social Work student
I was in the third grade when I first learned that I wasn’t like most other students. Oh, I liked to do my school work, play on the playground, and try to be the first in line for the school bus so I could get a good seat. What was different for me, though, was the fact that I was poor. I didn’t have the best clothes to wear, nor the neatest looking house to live in, or even a “good neighborhood” to live in for that matter. That made me an easy target for bullies I soon learned. It started with not-so-nice comments about my clothes. They were always clean, but they were also faded and didn’t always fit quite right. Then came the jokes about my house, and how some of the siding was missing, or how my yard was mostly dirt. First it was just one person who gave me a hard time, but then her two friends joined in. They laughed a lot. I cried a lot, but never in front of them. I pretended not to care, but inside I hurt. This went on for a few months, and then finally tapered off. Finally I had peace again.
In the seventh grade, it started all over. That was the year the grade schools in my city were combined into a middle school, and children from all over town shared one big building. To this day, I can remember “her.” For the sake of this blog, I’ll refer to her as “Mary.” Mary’s favorite time to harass me was just before science class started. It was my first class after lunch, and often the teacher was running a little late. Until he came to unlock the classroom, we had to stand in line against the wall and wait for him and this provided a perfect time for Mary and her friends to bully me. I couldn’t leave because class was about to start, but I didn’t say anything because I was always outnumbered. Most of the kids in my science class came from the “rich” side of town. So, again, I stuck out like a sore thumb. Mary would make comments about my clothes, and ask if she could borrow them to wear. This would just send her friends into hysterics. Sometimes they would kick the table into me as I was trying to take my seat. I would never tell my mom how I got those bruises on my legs. It was embarrassing to talk about. She also liked to make fun of my hair. Like my clothes, it was always clean, but I didn’t have the popular hairstyles like most other girls did. My mom couldn’t afford to take me for haircuts. When you barely have enough money for food, a professional hair cut is a luxury. About half way through the school year, Mary and her friends must’ve grown bored with me because they found someone else to bully. Looking back, I wish I would’ve befriended their new target because we obviously had something in common. I was so happy they’d moved on from me though that I didn’t make the effort. That’s something I wish I could’ve changed.
I’m much older now, and both grade school and high school have long come and gone. There are some things I wish I had known then that I certainly know now. School days are temporary. They will come and they will surely go. There are people during that time that will make your life fun, and those that will make it difficult. Be thankful for the ones who make it fun. As for the ones who make it difficult, remind yourself that time spent with them is temporary. How they see you is not how you have to see yourself. You decide your own self value and worth, and don’t let anyone take that away from you. There’s a reason bullies want to make you feel bad. My guess is that 10 times out of 10, it has to do with something they’re not getting in life that they need. Don’t be too hard on them even though they may be not so nice to you. Kindness can go a long way, especially to those who know they probably don’t deserve it. Be kind anyway, and above all, TELL SOMEONE! It is never o.k. to be bullied. Telling someone doesn’t make you a snitch, or a tattle-tell, nor does it make you appear weak. It means that you’ve identified a problem, and you have the courage to let someone know. If someone calls you a “snitch” for telling, they’re only doing that because they don’t like the fact that you’ve shed some light on their misbehavior!
If you’re being bullied, I understand the world you’re living in. Yes, it completely stinks getting bullied, but please know this: there is life after being bullied. Please don’t let it overwhelm you. Keep in mind that what may be happening today may not be happening next week, or even next month.
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