When I went to school during the 60’s, the term ”bully” was hardly invented – at least not in our school system. If someone treated you badly or beat you up, grown-ups would say one of two things – “Just do the same thing to her/him” or “Come on, toughen up – don’t be a sissy.”
Admittedly, I do think the incidents of serious bullying may have been fewer, but children were still cruel to each other in different ways.
From about Grade 3 until the end of Grade 9, I was the victim of bullying in various forms. In Middle School it was because of my Northern dialect (we lived in central Sweden at the time) and my dark coloring. With my Sami heritage comes brown hair and brown eyes, which was not common further south in the country at the time. I never even thought to go to an adult for help – instead I defended myself and a classmate who was called “Hitler-chick” because of her heritage. I wore out at least three school bags every year, using it to wrap around the arms or legs on our Number 1 enemy. Finally in Grade 6 I caught up with him on the soccer field, tripped him and sat on his chest, jumping up and down, until he promised to never again bother me or my friend. A few months later we moved, so I didn’t get to enjoy much of that peace and quiet.
When we moved back to this area, I was again odd because now I spoke with a dialect different from the one people around here used. Not only that – in 1965 it was not the “in thing” to be Sami – and I made the fatal mistake of admitting to this major flaw in my character. 3 years in Junior High under these circumstances made me promise that I would never again set foot in this school…
(Yes folks, that’s the school where I’ve been teaching for the last 11 years, but that’s another story!)
It took me a number of years to get over some of those experiences. I felt inferior to most of the people around me until I was in my late 20’s. It took another few years before I could shake the conviction that if a chat between others died when I entered the room it was because they had just talked about me… I am still very sensitive to ‘eyes raised to the heavens in despair’ and other ways of dissing people without having to say a single word… My own skin is quite thick by now –but I turn into a FURY when I see young girls use all those silent ways of belittling someone else. The bullying perpetrated by guys is usually so much easier to deal with – they become physical or call each other names – but it is all just as unacceptable in my eyes, and I will call them on it.
Every. Time. I. Recognise. Their. Behaviour. As. Bullying.
I know things happen that I don’t recognise for what it is – but I do my best.
Common decency must be the basis of all interaction – be it children or adults. As an adult, I have an added responsibility to ensure that communication between children, teenagers and adults is performed in such a way that everyone walks away feeling that they have been respected as human beings.
So what about the protocol we follow? Does it work? Do we reach the ones it is intended for?
Yes it does work – but everyone on staff must be trained. The other day a former pre-school teacher was close to ruining what others tried to accomplish – simply by following pre-school protocol of “making up and asking for forgiveness”. That is hardly the route to follow when you’re dealing with Junior High students and their conflicts.
The work continues with all of the involved students – especially C who still feels that he has done nothing wrong, we just don’t understand him… We’re also planning a half-day special for all students around ethics and moral questions, about bullying and other things of the same nature.
Oh – and I got to take off the cast today! My arm looks like a lizard and is really weak – but the physio department gave me some exercises to do three times a day. I expect it to take at least half a year before I’ve regained my former strength – even if I follow their instructions religiously.
