Bullies and the Lessons We Learn

Minutes ago I read a blog post from a woman whose teenage, autistic son was made fun of at a mall by a group of teenage girls. She said that as far as she knew, he had never been made fun of before and that this event broke a thirteen year streak for them. She wrote that chances are, one of them will grow up to have a child or grandchild with a disability and that she hoped that they would not remember the incident if that child is bullied because they might not be able to stand the pain. I’m sorry that this happened and would not wish that any child be bullied, those with a disability and those without. I am happy for her that her son attends a school whose peers do not make fun of him and that a some small saving grace is that when she turned to confront the girls, her son “probably would not have understood much of our exchange if he had been listening anyway.” I am thankful that my children do not have a disability, but they have been bullied anyway and they were painfully aware of it all.

Not only have both my children been bullied, but my husband and I have been bullied as well. Given the fact that 100% of my immediate family has been bullied at one time or another, this must be extremely common. Of course this is not right. It is not good. It is painful for the children and heartbreaking for the parents, if they know. I never said anything to my parents, what would be the point? My mother is meek and mild and would have offered unhelpful advice such as “Just stay away from them,” and this is not something I would have shared with my father. My husband took care of his own bullies and the bullies of the less courageous kids with his fists, an effective but not recommended remedy. My daughter’s bully was small, but mean as a snake. She pulled the chair out before my daughter sat down and laughed when she fell on the floor. She teased and laughed at her so much that in the third grade, suffering from panic attacks, my daughter could not go to school for a while. My husband and I tried different tactics to combat this pint size tormentor. He offered my daughter 20 dollars to punch the girl in the face and it’s a testament to the desperation of the time that I secretly hoped that she would, even though I outwardly discouraged it, as a mother should. She wouldn’t do it. I tried calling the school and the parents but gave up on that idea when I didn’t get anywhere. Finally I decided that this girl was really just a little girl who was in pain, so we started praying for her every night (we both balked at this, my daughter outwardly and me inwardly) and invited her to a Awana, a weekly Christian based children’s ministry where the kids play games and earn badges for learning bible verses. The girl surprisingly agreed and ended up coming with us every Thursday night for years, sleeping over once a week on a cot in my daughter’s room. This arrangement actually worked but it was not an easy time for any of us.

My sons bullying experience was shorter but considerably more violent. He was taunted at the age of 12 by a 14 year-old indigent with a striking resemblance to my son, both blonde haired, blue-eyed with a slight build. I wondered then and still wonder if he noticed the similarities and the heartbreaking differences. This boy was brought up by an allegedly abusive, alcoholic father. I’m sure he never felt cherished and loved a day in his life and maybe because my son looked something like him, decided to take it out on him. It started with threatening my son in school and online, progressed to yelling threats about bringing brass knuckles to school while following him home, and ended with this kid waiting outside of his classroom, and while my son’s head was turned, knocking him out with one punch and climbing on top of him, punching his face the whole time until one of my sons friends pulled him off and the teachers finally heard the commotion. The kid was suspended, although many teachers favored expulsion and the bullying stopped. Shortly after that, the boy went on to high school and we didn’t see him again until one day, my husband came home and told us the story of his own interaction with the troubled kid. The story goes like this:

My husband was in the garage one day, when he heard the sound of a dirt bike, zipping up the road. He came out of  the garage in time to see what appeared to be teenager riding my son’s old dirt bike. We live in a small town and this was the only one of its kind in the area. We had recently sold it to a friend for his son after our son had outgrown it, and just the night before, the man had called my husband and asked him to be on the lookout for it because it had been stolen.  My husband, an adrenaline junky, and adventure lover, jumped in his truck in hot pursuit of the kid and followed him until he saw the kid turn off the road and in to a field. He pulled up in time to see the boy drop the bike in some high grass and duck down. Undaunted, and now sure that this must be the stolen dirt bike, he got out of the truck and walked through the field until he saw our old dirtbike and the bully, now 16 years old, cowering in the tall grass. “Get your a*$ up,” my husband said, “and help me load this thing into the truck.” The kid jumped up and together they loaded the dirtbike into the back of the truck, “I’m not going to say anything about this” he said, “but you leave my son alone.”  The kid stammered and mumbled something, probably surprised and relieved that he had escaped both a beating and a summons. My husband drove off and gave the dirtbike back to the grateful owner but kept his word and did not report it. We never saw or heard from him again. That kid is 22 now and it wouldn’t surprise me a bit if he is prison somewhere but I hope he isn’t. I wish him well because I know that his bullying came from a place of insecurity, jealousy and anger as it often does with bullies.

Unfortunately, being bullied is all too common in childhood and sometimes even for adults, in the workplace. For the four of us, I think it has made us stronger. My daughter and I are alike in that we often speak for those who cannot speak up for themselves, she and I and have both been described as “feisty” when the situation warrants it. My son and husband always stand up for the underdog, individually, and on one memorable occasion, together, taking down and subduing a crazed, dangerous man (but that’s a story for a different day). These experiences were not pleasant when we went through them, and as a parent I wish they had not happened. I wonder though, if we would have turned out differently if we had not had them. I want this mom to know that although her son was made fun of for the way he ran, due to his disability, quite likely he would have been bullied at some point in his life even without his disability. Children are made fun of for the way they dress, how they talk, if they are too skinny or too fat, where they live, and for being too pretty or not pretty enough.  This is the sad reality of childhood. There is no right or wrong way to deal with a bully (I think we tried them all), and girl bullies and boy bullies are very, very different. But what we did learn is that families need to stick together, that you cannot allow anyone to push you around and if you can, stick up for those who can’t stick up for themselves.  Finally, try to show kindness to the bully because they may not have seen it at home and they are hurting too. You never know what seeds you may be planting in their lives that may grow into flowers later, when the soil is more fertile. To the mom at the mall, your children are lucky to have you and you are doing a great job.