Dear 4th Graders

Dear 4^th Graders,

You just missed out on something. I wanted to let you know. While you were out running around on the playground, you missed out on something pretty great.

Curious what it might have been? To answer you, let me tell you what I observed, and maybe you’ll see for yourself.

Earlier, I watched as one of your own classmates approached first one small group of you, then another, then another, a smile on his face, laughter in his eyes. He jumped in with a few of you when it was time to take silly pictures for the little end-of-year event your teachers put together for you. You didn’t push him away, but you also didn’t look at him or laugh with him. He ran up to your game of tag and asked if he could play. You didn’t tell him he couldn’t, but you also didn’t run after him or try to tag him. You just allowed your group to drift away from him time and again until he gave up trying to participate. He joked with you about some of the class games your teachers set up. You didn’t say anything mean to him in return, but you also didn’t look him in the face or smile or do much of anything.

You didn’t actively push him away or aggressively exclude him. And at the same time, you didn’t include him. In fact, you didn’t react to him at all. It was as if he wasn’t there. You effectively turned him into a ghost. A non entity. A nothing.

I’m sure some of you are decent kids. Some of you may even be nice, under the right circumstances. But I have to wonder how so many “nice” kids can be so very hurtful.

If you think about it for a moment, you’ll know the boy I’m referring to. There’s no question. He’s the only classmate you so fully and assertively shunned. Are you fooled by the smile on his face as he gives up and walks away from you? Do you really allow yourself to believe that you don’t hurt him deeply every time you treat him like he’s nothing? You’re smarter than that. You’re better than that. At least, I like to believe that you are. Think about it:  how would you feel if you were in his place, if you were treated the way you treat him over and over? How would it feel to you if your classmates never acknowledged you, never listened to you, never included you? How would you feel if no one seemed to care about your very presence?

You’re probably wondering why I said you’re missing out. Allow me to enlighten you.

That boy you exclude so readily? He’s about the least competitive kid around, and because of that, he’s also pretty much the best cheerleader you could ever hope to have. He’s supportive and generous, and if you needed someone to call on for help of any kind, he would jump to help you in a heartbeat without a worry about himself. He even cheers on the competition when he plays games and sports, because he wants the best for everyone. How many friends do you have like that? How many friends do you have who are completely okay – even happy for you – if you win and they don’t? How many of your friends, if they win, want to teach you what they know so that you can possibly beat them next time? Or would they rather keep their skills to themselves because winning, even with you, is what matters most to them?

That boy you don’t acknowledge is crazy smart. He could help you with any school work you find challenging. He’d be a phenomenal partner on a class project because he picks up knowledge almost as easily as breathing or drinking water, but more than that, he understands how to use that knowledge, how to manipulate numbers and words, and he can help you learn how to do it, too. He loves sharing knowledge. He can make school easier for you. He’d like to.

That boy you ignore even when he’s right next to you saying hello and trying to joke with you? He has a heart larger than your entire school. We all go through fun times we want to share and tough times where we need someone to listen. He’d go to the ends of the earth for any friend, to make them smile and to make sure they’re okay.

That boy you look down on because maybe he’s awkward or small or a little different from you? He’s also far braver than you. Any of you. Think about how often he has approached you – in class or on the playground – and been shunned by you, ignored by you, not accepted by you. If you were in his shoes, how many times would it take before you just gave up? Think about that for a moment. Think about how much that would hurt and how quickly you would stop trying. But he doesn’t stop. He continues to try, over and over, a huge, friendly smile on his face, hope shining through that maybe this time will be different, maybe this time you’ll include him… maybe this time he will be visible to you. Imagine how much courage that takes. I’m not sure I’m that brave, and I’m fairly certain you are not.

Today, I saw you miss out, my dear 4^th graders. I saw you walk right by the chance to make not only a great friend with a true champion but also to get to know someone who’s more of a hero than you can imagine. Someone kind and brave. Someone with more of a heart than any of you have shown.

Better luck next time. 

National Stop Bullying Day

I have a TON of schoolwork to do today – and the sheer amount of work in my program will be the subject of a post coming soon (quick snapshot: worker bees forget how much work school is, oh.my.god.) – but the gravity of what today represents is pushing me to write to you all. As some of you know, bullying has been hitting a little too close to home for the last year or so, and I’d like to share a few experiences and thoughts. Read on or exit out… whatever you choose is fine. This one’s for me.

My Bear is 4-1/2 years old, and he is a sweet, bookish child who makes a point of sharing and complimenting and thanking. Every single time he is given something – a lollipop at the doctor or a piece of candy at swimming lessons or a toy – he insists on getting something for his little sister, too.  And for 2 years now, he has been the target for aggressive kids. I hate labeling it “bullying.” Whenever I do refer to what happens to him as bullying, the whole thing seems so harsh, so huge… my heart hurts too much. Because he’s 4-1/2 years old.

Think back to when you were that age. Think about how you saw the world and how dramatically things impacted you. Small children go apoplectic about not getting to watch a TV show or fall to the ground in distress when a friend won’t share. Do you remember trying to sort out how you’re supposed to behave in new situations and being just filled with joy from praise?

Now think about being the kid who doesn’t necessarily fit in entirely, the one who tries to play with other kids but who gets tongue-tied or who is a little clumsy or who’s just not as rough-and-tumble. Even little kids can feel awkward. They’re not oblivious as so many people seem to want to believe. And to then have those other kids you want to play with call you names and make fun of your awkwardness and tell you you’re not included and push you down and hit you when the teacher’s not looking and refuse to play with you and ostracize you… Try to think about how that feels to a 4-year old who is just forming an image of his place in the world and his ability to be accepted and loved. 

Here’s the kicker, people.  From my experience, and this is just my experience, the victim is the one who deals with all the consequences.  That’s right.  Not the bully.  The victim.

Let me give you a few highlights.  When Bear was not quite 3, a child in his class (at our former preschool) took to hitting Bear every chance he got.  I was never told by a teacher, but rather I started seeing bruises, and Bear acted differently about going to school.  When I spoke to the Administrator, she acknowledged the hitting (WTH??) and explained that the other child had developmental challenges.  And she left it at “we’ll try to keep the boys apart.”  What???  Excuse me???  I’m sorry that the other child has challenges, I truly am, but please tell me what will you be doing to help and correct that child with those challenges aside from just trying to act as a barrier?  Because I’ll tell you all, acting as a barrier didn’t work. The bruises kept coming. The consequences were ours alone to bear – Bear’s fear of going to school, Bear’s retreat into himself, Bear’s reluctance to play with other kids, and our ultimate decision to go to another school.

There have been more instances in the year and a half since, even though Bear is at a different school. Like I said, he’s a sweet, gentle and awkward kid, and aggressive children see an easy mark in him. Most recently, a boy has been taunting Bear and calling him names almost every day, much of which I witnessed directly. Let me tell you, it never fails to knock me over seeing such small children act so mean. When I brought it up with the head of the school (again, I had to bring it up, apparently it didn’t merit attention) I was informed that the boy in question is the youngest of three boys, so he’s just acting out. I was told the teacher would try to encourage this boy to be more empathetic. Super. So, because he’s belittled by his brothers, it’s understandable and sort of okay for him to take out his frustration on Bear? I appreciate the effort to try to redirect this child’s thinking, I truly do, but are his parents being told that their child is being mean to another child? Are they expected to help him learn to behave in a more appropriate way? Are there consequences for them if this behavior continues?  

Let me give you a final perspective, and then I’ll leave this alone.  This has been happening on and off for a while, and since I recognize that Bear’s gentle and awkward demeanor may be at play here, I’ve asked the teachers to help him approach other kids and teach him ways to interact with them, things I’m working on at home, too. To be fair, the teachers are trying, and I appreciate their efforts. However, when we talk about how it’s going, the teachers fall back on the fact that Bear isolates himself, and they seem to see this as the reason these efforts aren’t working, like the isolation is the cause of all of this. Excuse me for seeing things differently, but perhaps this is a learned behavior brought on by all of this cruelty.  Perhaps what Bear has learned is that by isolating himself, he protects himself – even temporarily – from the hurt. Perhaps his decision to isolate himself shows that more work needs to be done to reassure him that the other children are learning new ways to interact and that the onus isn’t entirely on Bear to change.

Because in every case, we’ve been given information on what WE need to change and what BEAR needs to change. Not the other child. Not the bully. Nope. Bear. The victim.