NOT a Middle School Wildebeest
I learned to avoid bullies the hard way, having decided to step aboard the bus to junior high wearing barrettes I had made at camp, barrettes featuring jelly beans with Sharpie-markered happy faces and eye-catching ribbons. I sat a row ahead of the meanest boys in the school.
Now my twelve-year-old twin boys–the last of five kids–board a middle school bus to public school seventh grade, Dante’s lowest level of adolescent social Hell. Dan made the fatal mistake of wearing the same white NIKEs worn by a bus-bully’s grandpa, that kid sitting across the aisle from Dan and able to see his notebook in which Dan wrote in DRAGONSCRIPT. That’s an ancient Celtic language through which dragons communicate with each other and with select humans.
How many times do I have to tell my middle school kids not to chant Professor Snape’s EXPELLIARMUS hex, not to converse in Gollum’s mythical voice, not to write in Dragonscript near a bully? We can discuss how much a kid wants to buy Draco Malfoy’s Mom’s magic wand on Amazon at home, but not in public.
Likewise, I prohibited our daughter Jenna from crotchet and embroidery in class. My job is to help kids learn to associate with members of society in healthy ways–not to be targets of ridicule or recrimination. When bullies zero in, their relentless and systematic criticism tears apart the target’s psyche to exert control and establish dominion. In junior high I painfully discovered it’s much easier to avoid these people than to make them stop the abuse.
The jerk started hassling Dan about his grandpa-shoes, about Dan’s shirt that too closely resembled a picnic blanket, and then when Dan replied in a non-chalant, “Thank you,” started calling Dan a queer. His jerky friends chimed in, and suddenly we had a problem.
As the incident unfolded on a Friday, we had weekend time to buy the new school shoes we had meant to purchase sooner, and I endeavored to impart my hard-earned bully-avoiding wisdom.
Like hyenas and all predatory animals, bullies attack prey that appear separated from the group, stragglers. Stay with your 7th grade herd. Do not sit alone reading THE DEATHLY HALLOWS near the angry and solitary EMO-girl who yells directly at her book. Stand with other kids at the bus stop, and do not practice round-house kicks, or attack-swing a stick like Gandalf vs. the Necromancer–unless you can convince your friends to do so as well. Standing near the group and acting like those in the group affords seventh-graders the safety in numbers bullies avoid. Don’t be a hyena’s straggler wildebeest-target.
In addition:
- No wearing nerdy clothes like the elementary school’s CONGA CLUB T-shirt. You must officially disavow elementary school until your senior year in high school.
- No carrying or studying an APPLIED PHYSICS textbook when you are not taking that class.
- No blabbing inane facts like plot lines from off-shoot STAR WARS novels nobody has read. Darth Bane may be the most powerful Sith Lord in print, but his powers elude you when mentioned on the bus near a bully.
My husband Matt also encouraged Dan to defend himself to avoid further abuse, and told twin brother Stu to step it up and defend Dan if it happens again. Stu makes friends by breathing, so is never a target. Perhaps someday he’ll get hassled in English class by a gang of errant Shakespearean Sonnet-writers, and Dan will come to his defense.
Monday morning the boys stepped aboard the bus, and when the head bully didn’t say anything to Dan, Stu lead off with his latent defense, “Hey. You’re a hundred times more gay than my brother.”
Okay, nice gesture, Stu, but not what I had in mind. Did I forget to mention we don’t pick fights with bullies on purpose–especially when the bully isn’t hassling you? And why mirror his discriminatory language?
It surprised everyone. I imagine the shocked kid’s expression like a hyena taking a hoof in the chin, but without his wing-man on the bus, he cowed with a few mumbled curse words and the bird. Dan followed up, launching a debate about the kid’s grammar, ultimately silencing him.
Mission accomplished, sort of.
jillwellock 