A Bullied Boy - When Will it Stop?

It started with orange seeds.  I could feel them hitting the back of my neck and head, some of them going inside my shirt collar and sticking to my back.  I shrunk down in my seat, working very hard at pretending it didn't bother me, trying to be invisible.  Any attention would only have all the kids on the school bus laughing and staring at me.  The seeds were being spit at me by the girl in the seat behind me.  I could hear her snickering with the kid beside her.  When I ignored her she leaned forward and whispered "Retard, retard, you're such a retard you should be dead."  "Retard" was the worst word to use on someone back in 1967.  Then she started kicking the back of my seat.  I was frozen in my seat, afraid to fight back, afraid to say anything.  It was drummed into me, I was a wimp, a sissy, a freak.  It was said to me so many times by the kids on the bus, the kids at school.  I was a discard, an outcast, a boy who no one wanted.  This was what I made it all mean.  I was embarrassed at myself, at feeling helpless at the taunting voices, the threats, the pointing, the laughing, and the whispering.  Nothing I had done made any difference.  The worst part was I had no idea what started the bullying.  I didn't know what was wrong with me, but obviously something was really wrong.  The grown-ups just said things like "Sticks and stones can break your bones but names can never hurt you."  That just didn't make sense to a ten year old.  Even though I heard it from teachers and my parents. The only people I thought could do anything about it didn't.

Every day I was terrified to get on the school bus.  My parents had me wear a Peter Pan hat to school.  It was the most "uncool" thing to have to do ever.  No one else wore hats.  I have no idea why it was necessary and I was too scared to disobey.  Why couldn't it have been a ball cap at least?  I didn't have the courage or presence to stick it in my bag or hide it under my coat once I got out of sight of the house.  The hat was the subject of ridicule day after day.  One afternoon on the way home from school one of the boys grabbed my hat and threw it out the bus window as we travelled along the gravel road.  At first I was only present to everyone laughing and then I thought "Now I won't have to wear it again!"  No such luck, the bus driver stopped the bus and told me to get off and go pick up the hat.  I struggled down the aisle getting punched and slapped all the way to the front of the bus.  Tears stung my eyes while I tried to pretend I wasn't hurting and scared as I stepped down the stairs onto the dusty road looking for my hat.  I hated my life.  I hated all the bullies.

I dreamed I could fly.  I would fly over the top of all the kids in the schoolyard.  The schoolyard and the washrooms were the scariest places of all at school.  These were places that likely didn't have teachers present and the bullies could do whatever they wanted.  I would try to go all day without using the washroom just to avoid the bullying.  At recess and lunch break I would try to find a place to hide in the school where a teacher wouldn't find me and send me outside.

I became a bookworm.  I started getting books from the library and read one or two books a week.  I lived in the fantasy world of the characters in the book.  It was my escape.  I just wanted school to be over.  I thought maybe it would be less in high school but gym class seemed like the ultimate opportunity to get incessantly slammed while playing sports.  I hated sports.  Somehow I was a fine target, someone who never fought back and in not reacting physically only irritated the bullies into trying harder.

I never thought I would be writing publicly about how school was for me.  I had been ashamed and felt stupid during my days at school.  Even though I was an A student, that didn't seem to make any difference.  I had become a target and totally lived into that created environment.  Today I'm thankful for the steps I took to develop my self-confidence and create a life where love and generosity replaced bullying.

Recently there have been suicides in the news.  Children who took their young lives because they didn't see any other way out of the misery and shame of being bullied.  There have also been some courageous people who have shared their stories.

I believe that bullying will stop when parents start breaking the cycle.  Who knows where it all starts, but I think it starts at home.  Children who are bullies are demonstrating their power and control when they feel like they have no power or control over important areas of their life.  Maybe they're not listened to at home.  Maybe they're bullied by parents or siblings.  There are lots of anti-bullying campaigns and I'm sure they're making a difference.  Bullying is still happening and children are dying.  Sometimes little bullies grow up to be big bullies.  What do you think would make "the" difference in ending bullying?

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