If you’re reading this right now and have ever been bullied, slowly raise your hand. OK, you can put your hand down, especially since the folks in the doctor’s office now think you’re a bit odd.
Yes, a lot of us have been bullied.
My bullying moment came when I was in fifth grade living in Florida. After several years of being buddies with the neighborhood kids, one day they simply decided to gang up against me and make me an outcast on my own block. To this day, I have no idea why these seemingly decent kids decided to do this. Sure, I was at least one year younger than any of them. Maybe I brought it on myself somehow. I really have no clue. I do know that the bullying I experienced more than three decades ago shaped the person I became — for better and for worse.
The genesis of a bully takes no direct path. Some are bullied themselves; others don’t get enough attention at home. Their parents, siblings and friends could all be great. They just have the proverbial loose screw. They think it’s fun to ruin a little kid’s life. Oh how I wish I could change them before they change a young person’s personality forever.
Actually I recently got that chance. When I brought my son and his buddy to the Flower Mound rec center a few weeks ago to let them shoot around while I worked out, I came across a Grade A bully in living color. After my rigorous workout (i.e., 10 minutes on the treadmill watching ESPN), I walked into the gym to shoot hoops with the boys. I immediately noticed an older boy talking with my son’s friend. He then took the ball from the young boy and threw it wildly to the other side of the court. Nice.
My choices were numerous . . .
A) Channel my inner Goodfellas and beat the kid within an inch of his life, and then turn myself in to the nearest police station.
B) Scream at him like R. Lee Ermey in Full Metal Jacket, scaring him enough that a small yellow puddle forms at his feet.
C) Rat him out to the front desk and have them deal with it, because I’m easily intimidated by a lanky 72-pound ninth-grader with a skunk hairdo.
D) None of the above.
Yeah, none of the above. I reacted like most dads would and walked over to him and asked him if it made him feel like a big man antagonizing a fifth-grader. I then explained to him what antagonizing means. And then I told him to apologize to both boys, which he did.
Problem solved? Hardly. When my son returned to the gym a couple of days later with his friends — and without me to have his back — Skunk Boy flipped off my boy and called him a word that rhymes with “witch.” Was I tempted to knock on his front door to tell his parents how lovable their little boy was at the rec center? You betcha. But I held off — for now. Those fifth- and sixth-graders are such superior athletes to this knucklehead that they didn’t even think twice about it.
But that’s not the case for many: It’s estimated by the National Education Association that 160,000 kids miss school every day due to fear of bullying. One in seven students (grades K–12) is either a bully or a victim of bullying. One out of 20 kids (also K–12) has seen a fellow student with a gun at school.
Whoa. That last number certainly takes one’s breath away.
The truth is bullying is here to stay. In fact, the digital age now gives bullies even more effective ways to Snapchat and run. They can simply type well-crafted lies about someone and it’s as if they pounded a defenseless freshman into a locker in the hallway.
What can we do to help our kids deal with the mean streets of bullying? Take them to get karate lessons? Well, sure, that’s one way to go. Tell them to turn the other cheek? Yeah, but that’s truly never stopped anyone. Hire a pair of bodyguards? Pretty expensive and a bit excessive.
How about this instead: Talk to your kids about it since it’s bound to happen to everyone at some point. Talk to them about confronting the bully if the bully is focused on them or targeting one of their friends. Talk to them about never stepping back. And, yes, give them permission that when pushed to their limit, it’s OK to throw a punch that would make Mike Tyson proud.
Rudy lives in Flower Mound, sells stuff to make the house payment, spends weekends on dusty ballfields and recently had a GPS chip attached to his daughter. Follow him on Twitter: @Manifesto10.
Published October 2015
