I fucking hated the years between 5 and 15. 16 to 25 were hit and miss. Now I’m 34 and I think I’m getting the hang of it. Maybe.
I had a few things working against me when I was growing up (who didn’t?). I was a tall, strong girl, from a poor family, who desperately wanted to be loved and accepted. These are all the ingredients for social pariahism. I was too “boyish” compared to many girls in my town, but I was still too much of a girl to hang with the boys. I envied the clean, stylish clothes of my peers when mine smelled of cigarettes and came from the discount store. Perhaps all of this could have been overcome if I didn’t desperately latch on to any peer that showed me the slightest bit of attention. Here’s a tip: that shit ain’t cool. Kids can smell fear and desperation better than a pack of wolves. The latter are also kinder.
Now, this isn’t a “poor me” post. This is a “let’s face this once and for all so I can stop cringing every time I think of certain decades in my life” post. You can come along if you like. I can’t guarantee your safety. Sorry, no refunds.
Aside from the smelly weirdness of me-as-usual, I liked to throw in a few wrenches once in a while just to see how fucking ostracized I could get from the grade school elite. I got a mullet in grade 7. Yeah, on purpose. I don’t know why I chose femulletdom, but I remember a classmate telling me my hair looked nice. A combination of confusion, pride, and an attention junkie rush filled my head. In retrospect, I’m guessing it was an insincere remark, but I was too shy and bewildered to doubt a cool kid’s motives. Then there was the time I stuffed my dress top with kleenex because by grade eight I still had no boobs. Thing about tissue is that it’s never convincing as boobs. It ALWAYS looks like crumpled up tissue stuffed into the place where a chest should be. Not even the dumbest people in my class were fooled. And they let me know. There was also the super tight special dress for the class trip to Phantom of the Opera that made me feel beautiful, but revealed every mid-pubescent detail of my nether regions when I bent over. I spent most of the trip self-consciously pulling the hem down. Or what about the time I wore a strapless bra to gym class (do I really need to say more?)…or the time I finally got off the bench in a basketball game and made a perfect pass to the referee…or when I went to the beach with boys I liked after hitting puberty, but well before I knew anything about taming a bikini line…and so on, ad nauseam.
I always felt different from other girls.
The point is, unpopularity begets itself. Once the awkward train has left the station, it runs on it’s own unstoppable momentum. I felt out of place, which made me nervous, which made me do stupid things, which made me more unpopular… you get it.
I was unarmed in the savage world of children. My parents are amazing, but during my formative years, they had their own shit to sort out, and I suspect that raising confident kids was neither a priority nor a possibility. But this is not a “blame the parents” post either. They’re good people, and they did their best, under the circumstances.
Now, decades later, I watch kids I know navigate the same terrain as I. When a family can afford the “right” clothes and toys, it may help, but does not vaccinate against the horrors of childhood. Kids who are sociable, friendly, easy to get a long with, and fun-loving. Also eager-to-please, uncertain, sensitive, and fearful. And I have no idea how to protect them or how much to protect them. If I could, I’d shadow every kid and smack down any little arsehole that gave them a hard time. I’d teach them to fight. I’d give them superpowers. But I need to ask who am I really doing this for? The little humans asleep in their beds? Or am I trying to undo the past of the kid still stuck inside of me?
My years have brought a modicum of wisdom and perspective. I realize now that most kids my age were probably clueless and scared. They all had some issue at home or school or both. Self-doubt is a plague that spreads quietly and quickly though some kids have the resources to fashion masks against the miasma.
I don’t think complete inoculation against the worst parts of childhood is possible or even desirable. These early social games help us to prepare for later in life. I do think, however, that the keystones of love, security, and communication might trump a trip to the shopping mall. Which is good, because I hate shopping.
*squishy hugs*
hugs back, always.
Beautifully written, as usual,
And touching. But also…
I didn’t have enough emotional strength to write about our son’s fall [from grace] last Tuesday at school, and the social impact of such a benign event for a kid.
You’ve done it. Wonderfully.
The Clown
I can relate. Thank you for putting this out there. Giving our children the tools we didn’t have is always a challenge, but it seems as though you and the Clown are doing a swell job of it. Thanks for giving us a peek.
We’re trying. Trying really hard. I read books. Well, I skim and look at the pictures, which totally counts.
I know that no parent is perfect, so I hope that we at least help our kids to express themselves and trust us. That’s gotta count for something.
Thank you, HIC
I hated school because I was always “that kid.” I know I became a much more interesting and strong person because of it, but sometimes I wish I was like everyone else; it would make life easier to not think so hard about everything. Whenever I see the young me in one of my kids. I know he’ll come out of the other end of childhood a great guy, but it hurts to see his sweet, bright, sensitivity and know that he’s being picked on for it. I always hated the writers and filmmakers who made it seem like childhood was a magical time. Childhood often sucks. Okay, I rein in my inner Holden Caulfield now.
I grew up watching a LOT of TV and movies….as it turns out, they LIED TO US. It took me a really long time to understand that. Seriously.
I think the ones who don’t fit in as youngins are usually smarter, more sensitive, imaginative, creative, or just different in a way that cannot be appreciated until later.
Not to say that all the regular kids aren’t interesting too, but I can’t help but envision them as middle management.
There’s all kinds of holes in my theory, but I like my happy world. Your kids have a great role model in you. You authentically seem to give a shit, and I think that’s gotta be at least half the battle.
Eeeee…there were two of us. I was that kid too, plus I was (am) short, so I got put inside more than a few lockers. Now, I’m pretty alright.
But, you’re right, I worry about the kids too. My son is funny and sensitive and has lots of friends, and he’s also protective of his little sister. If anyone ever tries to hurt her, I know he will stand up for her…and probably get his sensitive little butt kicked (which means I’ll have to refrain from going to the school and kicking a 7-year-old’s butt).
It’s my daughter I worry about more. She’s 4. Our doctor (who I otherwise think is great) has already diagnosed her with “selective muteness” (think Raj on Big Bang Theory). I think she’s just shy. But, she’s so shy, she won’t speak to anyone older than her (and she’s the youngest in her class). She told me yesterday that the other kids won’t play with her and they laugh at her. :(
She’ll come out of this okay. I’ll make sure of that. But childhood *does* suck.
Oh man, it’s hard to watch our kids hurt. ANd there really is so little we can do about it. Your poor little peanut. In a weird way, I admire kids that stand their ground, and when they don’t want to do something, they won’t. I don’t mean to make light of her selective muteness…it can’t be easy for any of you.
Didn’t feel like you were making light of it at all. Thanks for your comments. And she does know her mind. She’s shy and she won’t be pressured into coming out of her shell. She’ll do it in her own time. I understand that the kids don’t play with her because she doesn’t talk to them, but laughing at her will only make her less likely to talk to/play with them. She has a few close friends that she plays with outside of school and she happily talks to us about everything. All in all, she’s doing pretty well and, when she looks back on this, she’ll probably find it made her stronger.
Very well-written,and very touching….I just finished high school and know exactly what you mean..am dreading the scene 10 years later when maybe I will have to live through all of it with my children.
Thank you for your fine compliments. High praise for a lover of fine literature/poetry. I suppose the experiences, good and bad, are pretty fresh in your mind. I liked being a senior in high school, and in uni. It’s kind of like, as soon as you get comfortable in one place, you have to start all over again.
That is exactly how I feel right now.:)
What a great post..I relate to much you say..I was the skinny, no boobs shy girl. I never got picked on but often got overlooked which is just as bad. Sometimes I wished to be picked on for at least that meant I was noticed..Childhood/teen hood is such a slippery slope and we only hope to come out the other side upright and intact.
As a mother myself I could never bear to have any harm (physical or social) come to my kids..I am currently nursing my daughter through her first “adult relationship” breakup.. I cried myself to sleep the other night because her pain is mine..
It never ends..Thank you for writing this…
That’s so sad. Inevitable, but sad. The first heartbreak seems like the worst. Your daughter is lucky to have you there as she heals from this. Perhaps it is the painful process of growing up that teaches us compassion for those later in life.
Oh, and Thanks! Forgot to say thanks…
Oh-so-relatable! I’m sure you’ll arm the Wilting Petunia well against the horrors of his peers. I think good support can make a difference, but it seems like parents just never “get” that. Mine didn’t, anyway. I’m glad I don’t have any younguns to watch ‘em suffer through the misery of other people.
I did OK through grade 5 because at Catholic school we wore uniforms and no one could see that my family couldn’t afford the right clothes. As soon as I got to public school, though… Well. I was the only one wearing a dress my mom made for school pictures, I guarantee it. And you can imagine what that did for my social acceptability.
And I had the opposite experience with bra-stuffing. The one time I wore a (red) turtleneck in 7th grade, a guy accused me of stuffing my bra. Dude, so not my fault that I needed a D-cup. I never wore a turtleneck again. EVER.
Damned if you do, damned if you don’t. Boobs were the target of so much humiliation (small, big, whatever). I think it was a way for the hetero boys to disguise their sheer terror. But that doesn’t make it ok.
Did you rock out on “Catholic School Girls Rule” by the Red Hot Chili Peppers? I hope so.
Reblogged this on A Clown On Fire.
I was so much the same as you. No lie. I was not the cool kid. Nowhere near. Well, until there was high school, but I was so cool to other kids like me, that I started waving that freak flag, and everyone came a’running. Different story entirely.
Anyway, my parents had sheltered me so badly that I had no idea how to stand on my own. It usually ended with me crying in a bathroom somewhere, unable to take the torment. I was accused of creating a hitlist one time. Can you believe that? When the popular girls found me in a bathroom (that no one ever uses) crying my eyes out, they were actually nice to me. They believed me, for once, and set the record straight.
The popular kids didn’t start leaving me alone until I started writing papers for football players. And even then, it was just leaving me alone.
My poor son. He’s three, and he’s already awkward. The doctors say he has ASD, so at least there’s a label to go with it. Kids leave other kids with labels alone. My son is so sensitive. He cries on the drop of a hat. He takes everything personally. He got it from his mom.
How do we go about armoring our children against other, mean children? Especially when it’s such a wonderful thing that they are naturally nice, sensitive, and giving.
I am as clueless as you are. I guess we do what we can. Try to pass on our successes and avoid our failures…but even then…kids will not heed warnings, usually. They gotta figure it out on their own. FRIG. Frigfriggidyfrig. Your boy will have you to turn to, and that’s a whole lot better than nothing.
Very true. And you’re right, they won’t. My son seems to have picked up me, more than his father. I fought my way through the world, with a machete, cutting my own path. And that was hard, because I refused to believe anything I was told. I had to know it for myself.
It caused a lot of hardship and setbacks that I probably could have avoided. But the question is, did I need to go through them? Sometimes I don’t want to believe it, but I know the truth. I did. And I have a feeling, my son will do much the same.
At the very least, like you said, he will have someone to turn to. I had no one, and relied on people far less experienced than me to guide me. Like the blind leading the blind, you know? I want to be there in all of the ways my parents couldn’t be.
Amen sistah. Nice visual with that machete. And apt.
“I had a few things working against me when I was growing up (who didn’t?)…” I think this is an important point: Who didn’t? When I look back I see those who appeared the strongest having a backpack of problems. Why was the girl wearing expensive clothing biting her nails to bleeding? Why was the terrifying bullying classmate obese? The child that is being bullied is rarely the one having a problem. Kids are good, but sometimes they run short on tools to express themselves, handle their frustrations and then they become nasty. The best thing one can do to a child is, to invite them to express themselves, learn them how to express their feelings, give them tools. Let them know that they are competent little human beings.
The strapless bra in the gym class really made me smile Sara :) I remember wearing extremely hot hotpants where hotpants REALLY DIDN’T fit the context. Embarrassing. But now I can laugh about it. That’s the most important thing, to reach a point where those silly things doesn’t matter any longer. I have other (newer) trolls, flashbacks of things I shouldn’t have said or done. I don’t think it will ever change. It’s all about learning to handle ones thoughts…. yes the Brain Garmin.
I hope you’re working on that Brain Garmin like you promised.
It seems that the older I get, the more I see people for who they are. That is, we’re all unsure, dealing with baggage, and navigating territory that we’ve never seen, sometimes with no tools at all. “Everyone has a story”, right? I don’t know if it will stick, but I plan to tell my kids that even the most confident, popular, happy looking kids have something to deal with. Compassion is a quality I want to teach them.
I wonder if anyone ever shakes that “cringe” thing when thinking back to foibles past. Some are easier than others, but some fall into the “I CAN’T BELIEVE I DID/SAID THAT – AAAAARRRGH” territory. The Clown seems pretty good at laughing stuff off. I could learn from him, and I have.
I am Sara. I promise. I did some studies, you know, into psycologic and even some into common sense. I’m getting closer every minute. If I didn’t have all the trolls to fight, Brain Garmin would’ve been on the shelf already!
I think your strategy is a good one. A VERY good one. Nothing really is what it seems to be. People are like little yummy looking filled chocolates. Pretty pretty decorated on smoooooth chocolate surface. Looks good. But you don’t know the flavor until you’ve taken a bite.
Anyone who uses chocolate metaphors is a friend of mine.
Oh, wait, that was a simile. Still aces.
Everything leading up to high school graduation was a nightmare. Adulthood, thank you! I just watched my oldest make that transition and it was painful. It gives us what we need as adults thought, that hyperawareness is awkward at first and then it pays out.
True that. a difficult child/teenhood may save us from peaking in high school. And of course, school is a bubble. Once we reach out into adulthood, our world expands, and we end up finding many more like us.
All you can do or are expected do is love them and tell them you love them and show them that you love them every day.
What? Like EVERYday?
Well, it’s a good thing I have The Clown as my pitch hitter.
(p.s. I think you’re right)
The hipster boy?
Well, he’s kind of an old man….
Not older than me Darlin’
It looks like growing up here is way more difficult and painful than growing up in a Latin American country.
Or perhaps I was/am so dysfunctional, I can’t even recognize the signs.
It is really a shame. Childhood, puberty and adolescence should be the best years of our lives. I haven’t been able to understand how such a cute little thing [aka baby] can grow up to be a nasty child who ridiculizes and bullies other children.
I feel for all the children that -like you, have to go through such an ordeal
That is so interesting, SSG. I am very interested in the difference amongst cultures when it comes to things like child-rearing. I know that culture is only one aspect that influences a person, but it’s a pretty big one.
Maybe you did get targeted like the rest of us, but you had the tools to deal with it in a healthy, well balanced way….
Or maybe it’s all so deeply repressed you’re eye twitches constantly and you have plans for world domination brewing. Either way, I’m glad we’re friends.
Noteworthy, I don’t remember being bullied to the extent that other kids can be. I was picked on, but I hear horror stories about physical harm and kids wanting to kill themselves it gets so bad. What I lived was unfortunate, but it could have been worse.
well, my healthy, balanced way consisted of ignoring everybody that was not family and read books. I created my own little world and I was quite happy in it.
Also, we had to wear uniforms at school so nobody could make fun of anybody’s clothes cause we were all wearing the same ones.
But yeah, child rearing is quite different. You grow up with a ton of cousins and you see them all almost every week. There are loving grandmothers and grandfathers and aunts and uncles always willing to take care of you. There’s lunch at grandma’s every Sunday. So kids have so many loving, caring people around that no matter how they look or act, hardly any kid has self-esteem problems or feels like an outcast. A tight net of extended family does wonders for you when you’re growing up
I have about 17 FIRST cousins on just my mother’s side and about 30 First cousins on my fathers side. Growing up was a riot!
At school I was quiet, didn’t have any friends and always sat alone at lunch time. but I didn’t care. 1. I had my books, and 2. I had the weekends to look forward to, which we always spent with our extended family. We were poor but man, it was so much fun! :)
Big families are built in friends. I come from a big family, too, but we’re all spread out everywhere. Not a lot of interactions with kids my age…save for one, and he was the pervy cousin with the lazy eye…soooo, yeah.
Community is so important. I’m am happy that you found some at such a young age. I’m sure it helped mould your beautiful spirit.
Thanks. Yeah, it really made a difference. With such a dysfunctional core family as I had, I couldn’t have made it otherwise.
I just wish my kids had had the opportunity to meet their grandmother (my mother). So sad
Great read. Kids can be so cruel without even knowing it. Or knowing it and just not caring. Well done.
Thank you BM. I wonder if that is indeed part of it. Maybe concepts like compassion are just not part of a typical grade-schoolers emotional intelligence? Or maybe it’s all they know….how to be a dick to get what we all really want. Love and attention.
I wish I know that other kids were as messed up and insecure as I was back then, I wouldn’t have felt like I was the only freak.
Totally! Imagine, seems we were all surrounded by people going through the same feelings and being tortured by the same difficulties, and we didn’t know it.
I guess some were better at pretending than others.
Gah. I wish I’d been given this to read back in the day so I could have saved myself a lot of faff and drama in my quest to be cool. It was never going to happen, in hindsight. It’s amazing how grown up you think you are at that age.
I think the same observations are still relevant at every age. The cool kids aren’t as “cool” as we think they are. We don’t give ourselves enough credit, maybe.
Strangely, I find adulthood more difficult than adolescence. I found good friends back then – we were all similar in our seance of humour and social awkwardness. Now, as an adult with a chronic disease, I find it hard to fit in with others my age. I try to simplify my life in order to cope, but feel often that compared to others Im slacking or not doing enough. There is more pressure on me now to assimilate than there ever was back then.
Good post. I enjoy your writing. I’ve been there with the strapless bra thing too.
I agree, although I have the gift of hindsight now and can attempt to learn from my ridiculous adolescent mistakes. I’m still terrible at being an adult, but it’s slightly easier for me. Just slightly.
Yeah, adult hood is NOT the prize I was promised by T.V. and movies.
Let’s just all admit that strapless bras are a terrible invention and that only masters of style like celebs can really pull them off (pun intended) and even then, only with the help of personal assistants who have things like tape and magic at their disposal.
I guess at every and any stage of life we can feel like the “other”. I find that blogging really helps me realise that there are other like me (whatever that means). But I think you’re on to something…as grown-ups, maybe we get more stuck in ur ways? Less room to adapt or let others into our lives? I dunno. I’ll have to have a think.
Chronic disease can really create a divide. I don’t have one, but I have heard stories of alienation and being misunderstood by sufferers. I have been guilty of being insensitive (many years ago) when someone told me they had chronic fatigue, and I thought to myself, “oh c’mon. I’m tired all the time too. How bad could it be?” Illness, mental and physical, can become a barrier. The combination of ignorance, stigma, fear, and self-consciousness on part of the non-sufferer makes for an uncomfortable situation, I think. It’s not an excuse, of course, but it is an issue I’d like to see resolved. Isolating people when they’re suffering never helps. I think it can really exacerbate an illness, though.
Yep, all of that. I tend to try harder and make things more difficult for myself in the end.
I try to hide it, knowing that I look ok, no visible handicaps at the moment (they come and go). I have good support systems, when I choose to let them in, though.
um, this is fantastic. period.
g’wan.
I’m terrible at taking compliments, especially from people I think are cooler than me.
So thanks, cool kid.
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Isn’t getting older and gaining perspective on the past sublime? Other than the aches and pains when I get up in the morning, I love getting older.
One of life’s cruel jokes…youth is wasted on the young. Blessed are those whose insides match their outsides.
I dig getting older too, for the most part. Getting out of bed…not so much.
I found this post especially poignant and timely. I was always pretty much the weird girl, in that I was weird, but more so because even in my most vulnerable years (theoretically nine to early twenties), I truly and honestly could not care less about what anyone save myself thought of me. It wasn’t a deeply hidden mechanism for masking insecurity, it wasn’t a reactionary, angry stance, I just knew that the only opinion that mattered to me was my own.
This has been my saving grace throughout my entire life. Even when I was a very small child, my mother used to think that no matter what happened, I would be okay because I was so incredibly secure in myself. I would always ‘land on my feet’ (so she tells me). And she was right. And it wasn’t until I was past those ‘vulnerable’ years that I truly realized how unusual this is.
So now I have two of my little girls at vulnerable ages. The elder of the two is 12, the younger 7. (An important aside, things get even more complicated from my perspective because neither of these two amazing girls is mine, biologically or legally. I used to be their nanny, and they are the daughters of my heart. I never held them at arm’s length, and were I one day to have children ‘of my own’ – which I don’t plan on doing – it is impossible that I could love them more than my girls. Also relevant is that these two are not related to each other, but they still love one another like sisters.)
I remember being terrified last year before my 12-year-old started middle school. Middle school is really when the environment becomes completely toxic and even some of the best, kindest kids turn vicious. But she is doing amazingly. Despite not being my kid, she obviously got so much from spending the majority of her young life with me. She got everything that is good about me, and nothing that is bad. I know, without qualification or doubt (as my mother did), that that girl is going to be alright in life.
My seven-year-old I worry for so much more. She is sweet and smart and wonderful and – mostly – secure, but she is interested in having the “right” clothes and looking pretty, she cares about being popular, she already has terrible anxiety, and she just has such a sweet vulnerability and eagerness to please. . . I have to have faith that she will find her way, but I see so many obstacles ahead, and all that I can do now is be her friend, give her unconditional understanding and support, and try to help her see that believing in her own inner beauty is so much more important than whether her shoes “go” with her top.
(And this is why I seem to comment the least on the blogs and posts I like the most. Because I end up writing close to 500 words. Apologies.)
You can come post a nivel anytime you want! I love other people’s stories. No apologies necessary.
Self-awareness and confidence is certainly a rare gift at any age, and probably more so during those formative years. It’s a gift you possessed and are sharing with your daughters. That is outstanding. Raising happy kids is one very important way we can change the world for the better, I think.
Though your 7 year old sounds like she’s battling immense pressure to look “right”, like you said, she has an invaluable friend in you to guide her through the rough terrain. Thanks for sharing, Ruby.
I’m not sure getting the hang of it is really going to make life much better.
But then, after reading about some of your history, it certainly couldn’t hurt either.
I’m not sure if you’re being kind or if you’re making fun of me. It’s grade school ALL OVER AGAIN! Does this qualify as PTSD?
I assure that I was not making fun.
Although I’m also not sure that qualifies as PTSD… then again.
This post should be required reading for every school kid in the world…ever. A really good read that I can sympathise with having gone through it myself (except for the bra and dress bit…I’m ‘all man’…) but as a teacher I can also see in every single kid I’ve ever taught.
That, I think, is the ultimate cruelty of childhood. The fact that each kid feels just as ‘different’ and the ones that picked on you were very probably doing so because you either eat or get eaten in the playground. It’s rougher than a battlefield.
With my own two kids, I have no idea if I am giving them the ‘weapons’ to survive this battlefield. My wife and I try, but they sometimes come home bruised and shot. Both of them are very ‘different’ from others – not least of which is their skin colour and language. But, I think they are getting there and – I hope – they know they are loved and there is a safe harbour for them at home.
I hope to God it is.
I’d like to believe that I’m the next Judy Bloom, helping kids feel just a little less alone. Hello God? It’s me, Sara… (ok. I’m a hack, but can dream)
The fact that you can acknowledge that your kids do and will continue to have struggles means you’re paying attention. And that’s awesome. Giving them a safe and loving home so they can lick their wounds and return to battle is about as much as we can do, at least when it come to run-of-the-mill kid cruelty.
I wonder, is it some kind of innate quality that at those impressionable ages we are self-centred and unable to perceive the the world beyond our own experience? Is that some weirdo survival mechanism from cavehood days? Or is taught? Can it be undone? Why is it that nearly every kid (from what I can tell) feels so alone in their suffering? Or is this limited to certain kids with certain personalities?
Good questions, though I really don’t know the answers! You could make a fortune if you wrote a book giving the right answers :) I don’t think it is taught and I notice that it happens even in societies like Bangladesh which are much more communal than the individualistic West. Maybe we all just feel it and learn to deal with it as we get older. The flipside to being an individual and being ‘unique’ is that you are also, ultimately, on your own…
That is pretty effing sad. But true.
You are so right. If I could I’d put my children in a bubble to protect them, but I can’t, so I sent them to karate instead. So often we want our kids to rewrite our own history so we can make right the wrongs we went through. They aren’t us. The difference is having someone who cares – a lot. And that will make all the difference.
I am so grateful for feedback from other parents. It’s reassuring that we’re all in the same boat, and we all seem to agree that one of the key ingredients is love. Thank you.
I agree with Victoriabruce: karate prevents victimization, that’s for sure. I’m all for the whole peaceful warrior thing. Bullying makes me furious, and the assumption that “kids will be kids” is unacceptable. I, too, endured bullying. My stepchildren had some struggles as well. Some kid kept smashing our son’s head into his locker door at the beginning of middle school. My husband taught my stepson that the way one carries him/herself does have much to do with the way others react. Our boy improved his posture and ended up tripping the bullying kid in the school hallway. Had adults been nearby, our son probably would have been suspended. He didn’t get caught, and no one bothered him again. In our schools we have zero tolerance for fighting or violence of any sort. I agree with that rule, but I would support my kids if they had to lay the smackdown on someone who was picking on them.
That said, boy bullying is totally different than girl bullying. Girls are so insidious and evil. I feel like I am better prepared to help my younger son survive , but I don’t know exactly how to handle a pack of rotten girls. I look back and still don’t know what I would have done differently…Ack!
Jennifer, you make some great points. Comportment makes a difference. I guess that self-confidence is one of the greatest tools a kid can have in his or her arsenal. Kind of like preventative medicine. I never liked the “kids will be kids” attitude either. It dismisses a child’s feelings and diminishes a very real problem. And that attitude will never teach our kids to be better than that. I had zero tolerance in the high school I went to, and although there’s always some mischief that slips through the cracks, things rarely got out of hand.
ANd girls to seem to bully different than boys. Boys are more physical, girls are more social in their tactics. There ought to be a karate for the mind. I’m so happy you dropped by.
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