DFWChild / Articles / Special Needs / Bullied, but Not Broken

Bullied, but Not Broken

Although I appear to be watching my daughter with her friends, I keep a discreet eye on my son. Now that he’s getting older, I have to stop hovering over him, but it’s a hard habit to break. He takes a ball to a group of boys, which still catches me by surprise; it’s a great reminder of how far he’s come. A year ago he never would have done that. I steal glances to see how he interacts. He smiles, offers the ball and gives it a pretty good kick. A game has started. I relax.

It doesn’t take long before my heart starts pounding and my defenses go up. The other boys aren’t letting him have a turn to kick his ball. They act like they’re going to, but then they kick it to somebody else. In their defense, my child does not actually run to the ball when it heads in his direction. When lots of bodies head for the ball, he recoils and walks away from the action. He’s laughing, so I remind myself he’s having fun. And then it starts. First the name-calling, followed by teasing, yet my child is still laughing. He doesn’t understand, or maybe he does but he doesn’t know what to do. His ignoring this behavior causes most of the boys to get on with the game, but one boy keeps at the teasing: “Stupid! Stupid! You’re so stupid!”

Frustrated, I call over Drew and tell him to bring the ball, happy to end the game.

Nonverbal until 4, he still struggles with language. He might say one thing but mean another or repeat the same phrases over and over. In social situations, where conversation moves fast, his delayed processing and recall put him at a disadvantage. Also, until he has practiced a skill to the point of muscle memory, he struggles with basic physical activities. Academically, there
are pretty simple strategies to help him. Socially, however, it’s totally different.

I’m not the only mom struggling with a child who gets picked on and won’t (or perhaps can’t) fight back. And kids with disabilities, no matter how minor or severe, are becoming bullied in greater numbers. It’s called disability harassment, according to John Hoover and Pam Stenjhem. Their article, “Bullying and Teasing of Youth With Disabilities: Creating Positive School Environments for Effective Inclusion,” published online by the National Center on Secondary Education and Transition, offers schools and parents advice about stopping disability harassment, including creating an environment that “is aware of and sensitive to disability concerns and harassment.” They encourage the community to discuss disability harassment and report it, teaching students about it and helping to bring awareness to it.

The key word Hoover and Stenjhem use here is “community.” As a teacher and parent of a child with a disability, I know schools can only do so much. I think back to those moments in the park, when I watched my son get called a “baby” and “stupid,” and how the moms witnessing the event did nothing. Why did they do that? They watched the same exchange I did. How could they witness their children be so cruel and just leave it be?

Perhaps these moms didn’t let it go. Perhaps they discussed it on the car ride home or saved their comments for later, but in my experience teachable moments are just that – moments. I want them to teach their child to apologize, or better yet, not to do it in the first place. I’ve learned to become bolder, asking these kids, “Is there a reason we need to find your parents?” or “Does it make you feel better to call that kid stupid?” I’ve also asked other parents who clearly witnessed a nasty exchange if they’re comfortable with what just happened, though I admit this kind of direct questioning makes me nervous because I hate confrontation. But sometimes it’s necessary.

We’ve worked very hard to manipulate friendships for my son, choosing friends and creating situations to help him practice social skills. We explain how teasing looks and what he should say if people aren’t being very nice.

Fortunately, I have friends with older children who have experience with disabilities, whether it’s dyslexia, autism or processing disorders. These boys come over and play with Drew, treating him like one of the boys. I don’t want people to treat him with white gloves – he can be stubborn, cheat or lie about things. These boys don’t let him get away with it, and I’m glad. But they give him extra time to get his thoughts across or repeat themselves if they see he’s confused. In a sense, they are training him for those playground moments, because we all know kids tease each other – it’s a fact of life.

I want both of my kids to understand what bullying looks like and how to stand up to bullies, especially when the victims don’t understand or can’t stand up for themselves. My son is not a fighter, and though there are times I wish he were more assertive, I’m grateful that he’s the first to invite all people to play on the playground, the first to ask if somebody is OK and the first to offer a smile. In that sense, he’ll always be a winner.