Bullying: An Epidemic Since 1994 (at least)

Today at work, I overheard a few of my co-workers discussing “bullying” and how rampant it is in today’s school systems. Instead of joining in the conversation, I took the passive aggressive approach: I kept quiet and eavesdropped, then wrote about it on my blog instead.

I find it kind of funny that “bullying” is seen as such an epidemic these days. I mean, I don’t currently attend Elementary School,so maybe I’m just naively unaware of this generation’s children and their malicious ways. But I just don't see why this issue is just now getting attention. Hasn’t the concept of “bullying” existed for centuries?

The first time I remember feeling “victimized” as a child was probably in about 3^rd grade. I had gotten these fantastic new shoes and couldn’t wait to wear them to school. They were from the Bass Outlet and I’d wanted them for ages. They looked sort of like hiking boots only they were bright blue and made entirely of rubber. I think they were supposed to be worn as rain boots, but I had other plans. Those plans involved games of Red Rover (was that just a Utah thing?) tetherball, and of course, “Hot Lava Monster Tag”, my awesome blue shoes aiding me to victory in all of them. I dreamed about wearing them all night before the day of their debut.

I strutted around all that next morning, an extra bounce in my step. Nobody had mentioned my shoes, but I didn’t need them to. I knew I looked cool. Then at morning recess it happened.

“Nice BLUE shoes”, a girl in my class said, looking down at my new Bass Outlet beauties with her eyebrows raised. Then she laughed. A mean laugh.

I may not have known the capital of Alaska or how to form a cursive “Z” at that point, but I knew sarcasm when I heard it. And that “nice shoes” was dripping with it. 

I didn’t really know what to say; I’ve never been a good “trash talker”. I probably just awkwardly mumbled something and shuffled off to the 4 square court. I do remember looking down at my shoes and suddenly not feeling so confident. They were VERY blue…

Later on at lunch recess my now not-as-cool shoes were mocked again during a game of “Red Rover”. Instead of summoning me by my name, the other team chanted “Red rover, red rover send BLUE SHOES right over!” Then their entire team burst into giggles.

Ah, so clever! That whole group has probably broken into the stand-up comedy biz by now.

The rest of the day was ruined. I remember literally wishing I would break my arm or get sick so I could go home. I was desperate to ditch the blue shoes, or at least get them out of the public eye.

My mom was really puzzled as to why I never wanted to wear the shoes again after that day. I mean, my parents don’t usually buy us things for no reason, so this sudden lack of use must have been kind of a kick in the head. I’m pretty sure she still made me mix them in occasionally. She tended to do that. If us kids changed our minds about something we’d previously begged for, she’d make us wear it anyway as punishment for being so finicky. That’s how I spent my entire 5^th grade year wearing clogs.

There are a few other instances in which I remember being made fun of as a child.

There was the time I was ridiculed by a group of “JNCO” jeans wearing sixth grade boys for wearing my DARE shirt with a vest. I wish I could say otherwise, but I am pretty certain it was not DARE day.

Or when I was paired up with a particularly “revolting” boy for the annual dance festival and everyone called me Carolyn followed by his last name all year. (He ended up punching me in the nose at some point, sending us both to the principal’s office. I remember walking home afterwards in shame, with the jaded feeling that I finally knew what “rock bottom” felt like.)

But hey, I can’t completely play the victim here!  I specifically remember asking a classmate once if he/she was a boy or a girl.  The funny part? She’d obviously been asked it before. Her response was a defeated sigh and “Once again… I’m a girl.”

I also recall bragging to my friends about teasing a certain boy so much about his messy hair that he finally cut it. Looking back, it was probably just cut in preparation for him to be ordained a Deacon or something.

My point? We’ve all been bullied. And we’ve all been the bully. Deep down, I think we can all admit it. And guess what? Most of us are probably doing just fine. 

Note: In order to avoid seeming like a heartless bully advocate, I would like to make it clear that I do not condone teasing (at least, the mean kind) in any way. :)