Thanks to The Bully Project for sponsoring my writing. Visit their website to join the movement and learn more.

When  was in fifth and sixth grade, there was a girl in my class named Lauren. She was small and slim, with black hair. Pretty. And for the life of me, I can’t imagine what it was that made her a target for bullies.

There were definitely “mean kids” in my small Catholic school class of 30. And Chip was the worst. He would push Lauren down on the playground. He was also fond of teasing Peggy, the overweight girl in our class. He called her “Piggy.” He was not quite as original as he was cruel.

I was just unimportant enough to escape Chip’s attention, but I hated what he did to the other kids. How he made them feel.

Lauren and Peggy couldn’t look more different. But they had one thing in common. Neither of them had close friends. Girls like me would be friendly enough – but we already had best friends. And we didn’t go out of our way to include them in any significant way.

We also didn’t take a stand on their behalf. We didn’t tell bullies like Chip to leave them alone. We thought our own kindness was enough.

It wasn’t.

I can’t speak for anyone else, but I know exactly why I didn’t try to help. Why I didn’t tell the mean kids to stop. It was because I felt powerless. And it wasn’t just being afraid that their terrible attention would be directed at me. It was because I knew how futile my efforts would be.

At that time, I was a nobody. While I had friends, I was not particularly pretty or popular. I had a bad hair cut. I was a little too tall. I wasn’t slim. The best things I had going for me were kindness and a good imagination. Neither of these qualities rate very highly  in fifth grade.

Seriously – I have no idea what is going on with that hair… 

If I had the nerve to stand up to a bully, they would just laugh at me. If I was lucky, that’s all they would do.

So I just watched, hating every second of the unprovoked attacks. And when the dust cleared I would make an extra effort to nice to the victims. And hoped my subtle disapproving looks would be enough.

They weren’t.

And bullying didn’t just take the form of playground taunts from the mean kids. Practical jokes were employed as well. Once a popular boy in our class walked Lauren home and asked her to be his girlfriend. He laughed about it later with another girl. I can’t remember how he told Lauren the truth – that it was all a joke… Maybe it was over the phone. But either way, I know it humiliated her. And I didn’t understand WHY. Why would anyone think that was funny? Why would Lauren believe it? Just WHY?

Neither the girl nor the boy mentioned above were mean people. She actually became a very close friend of mine in later years – and I KNOW that she is a good person. I seriously doubt that either of them considered their joke to be an act of bullying.

But it was.

And I wish that I had done more than not laugh. I wish that it never happened at all.

I have a lot of regrets about that time. But at the same time, I don’t know that I could have made a difference. Not like I could later.

Lauren left our school after sixth grade – moved away. But Peggy stayed. Chip also left the school and the overt bullying subsided. Maybe seventh graders – in such a small class – automatically matured a bit. Maybe the boys started to think it was wrong to be physically aggressive with girls. I don’t know…

It seemed to me that things got better. But if you asked Peggy, I doubt she’d agree.

I mentioned that I was able to make a difference later. This is something that makes me feel proud. And not just a little impressed by how observant I was at such a young age. By seventh and eighth grade, I became less awkward – prettier. I was one of the popular girls in my class and people cared more about what I had to say. Around this time, it became clear to me that the kids my age would believe pretty much anything presented to them in full confidence. Especially if it was true.

I noticed that Peggy spent a lot of time drawing in a notebook. Mostly fashion pictures – and they were pretty good. So I started making a fuss over her. Pointing out to people what a “good artist” Peggy was. After a while, others picked up on this and Peggy became known as one of the bests artists in the class. For once people had something nice to say about that quiet, unassuming girl.

Did this make a big difference – did it change her life – did she live happily ever after? Probably not – no – and if so, it had nothing to do with anything I ever did.

This was a nice gesture. But in all honesty, it wasn’t enough. And it was ultimately more for me than it was for her. It was so satisfying to trick people into being nice.

That same year, our class got a cassette tape in the mail from Lauren. Our teacher played it for us and later said that he thought a therapist probably suggested she do it. On the tape she told us how awful we were to her – how cruel. She asked us if we thought good people treated others like that. She said many things. It was long. It rambled. It broke my heart.

I was never anything but pleasant to Lauren, but I felt ashamed. If anything, I was horrified on behalf of our class – that we as a whole, could make one person so miserable.

I looked around expecting to see other contrite expressions. But I didn’t.

I saw smirks. They laughed. And I was furious. But of course I said nothing. Because even now that I was pretty and popular and people listened to me – it still wouldn’t have made a difference. They would rather laugh at “how weird” this girl was than face the truth of her words. To feel ashamed.

And of course I understand at age forty, that their reaction was probably a defense mechanism. The maturity level of an eighth grade classroom is not particularly high.

I didn’t miss my elementary school when I left for high school the next year. I had good memories and am still close to a number of my friends from that time. But I will always look back on those years as being harsh.

I chose well when I decided to go to an all girls high school. It wasn’t by any means a big love fest where everyone was nice to each other all the time. But it was a bit more forgiving. People found their niches. Teenage girls have different ways of torturing each other…gossip, drama, boyfriend stealing… So no one ever got pushed around between classes. No one pretended to be your friend as a joke.

The trite but true statement that “kids can be so cruel,” is exactly what makes me relieved to be done with that time of my life. And it also makes my heart clench to imagine my own children living through it in a few years.

Right now they are young, their classrooms are warm and welcoming places where they are learning to share and be considerate. Teachers intervene when there is pushing. Everyone has to say sorry. Classmates are called “friends.”

I was very lucky growing up. First, for not being in the direct line of fire when it came to school bullies, and then for going to a high school where kids didn’t get pushed into lockers. I even managed to benefit from some great learning experiences along the way.

But at the end of the day, I just wish none of it had ever happened. I wish that Lauren and Peggy didn’t have to be put through all of that. Because being told that you aren’t worthy of respect at such a young age…well, it has to take its toll. But it did happen. So instead of wasting time wishing for the impossible – to change the past – I just hope that it eventually worked out for those girls. That being bullied didn’t take away their futures.

For so many – it does.

I don’t like to think about it. None of us do – and maybe that’s why it’s so easy to turn a blind eye. We can allow the cycle of cruelty to continue because it’s easier to pretend that we don’t see it.

I can tell you right now that I DO NOT want to watch a movie about kids being bullied. About kids committing suicide because they were bullied.

But I will, because no matter how hard it will be for me to watch (no matter how hard it was for me to watch…) it must be a million times harder to experience it. And if they can live through it, then it is only right and fair that I muster up the courage to bear witness.

So when The Bully Project comes to my area, I will see it. And I will send links about it to the teachers I know. Especially my special needs son’s teacher. Children with disabilities are obvious targets for teasing…for bullying. It’s an unfortunate reality that will be part of my future. And if I felt powerless to stand up for the kids in my own class – what can I do for my son when I’m not even there?

Everything starts with awareness. And everything we teach our children is more effective while they are young. So I will watch something painful and I will think about it. I will talk to other parents about it and I will talk to my children about it. I will try to model the way I want them to treat others – and the ways they should expect to be treated. I will acknowledge the issue, not pretend it doesn’t exist.

This is huge – it’s not a problem that is easily solved…or ever solved, really. But people really can make a difference. I know that now. And this year, I will start by seeing a movie.

I was selected for this sponsorship by the Clever Girls Collective. Find showings in your area for The Bully Project and buy tickets here.

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