Bullying

Scattered across the cinderblocks of our middle school walls are some new faces, photographs of kids who have been silenced. 

Lee Simpson on Oct. 10, 2008. Scotty Weaver on July 22, 2004. Lawrence King [5] on Feb. 12, 2008. Carl Walker-Hoover [6] on April 9, 2009.

All silent.

They are dead.

It all started from one dumb mistake, but it escalated into a total disaster. In the fall of 1943, in the middle of World War II, my buddy Pinhead and I were in the seventh grade at the regional high school. We hunted together, and in those meat-short days we were able to add to the family food budget. Both of us were named Robert, but Pinhead’s pointed head shape had earned him that nickname. He was smart, cocky and that never seemed to bother him. 

We often talk about the teachers who change our lives. We hold them dear in our hearts, conjuring their images and words of wisdom in our dark hours. They continue to guide us throughout our lives, whether they know it or not. 

What few talk about is the students who change teachers' lives.  Yup. It happens that way, too.

When you say the word “bully” most people tend to think of the caricature of a bully. One of my students described the thinking of this stereotype perfectly. “They probably got on my nerves or I really just don’t like them, so I’ll try my best to make their life as miserable as possible.” 

But bullying takes many guises and is sometimes hard to identify.  That is worth thinking about today as the Safe Schools Action Network observes 100 Days of School/100 Days of Bullying [17]. If we really want to stop bullying, we need to see it clearly in its various forms.

Today somebody vomited in fourth-period study hall. Before the period had ended, kids in my study hall already knew about it. On my way to fifth-period class, every kid I passed in the crowded hallway was talking about it.

Webster’s dictionary defines gossip as “a report about the behavior of other people.” In my school, gossip is the pipeline through which all sorts of misinformation, lies, and occasional truths get exchanged.

The suicides of boys tormented by anti-gay harassment grabbed the public’s attention this fall. Those suicides are the tip of the iceberg.

For every tragic and unnecessary case that makes it to the news, there are others we don’t hear about. These are the ones that families are too ashamed to disclose. Then there are scores of suicide attempts that leave parents desperately trying to convince schools to do the right thing. 

The Ad Council of America and the Gay, Lesbian and Straight Education Network (GLSEN) launched an ad campaign, “Think Before You Speak [30].” The ads challenges people to consider how hurtful their language can be when the identity of someone is used as an insult. 

As I sat down to eat with a couple of my colleagues I noticed something unusual for lunchtime: My classroom was slowly filling with students.

Assuming that my co-teacher knew what was going on, we continued to get out our food and looked forward to a few calm moments. But more than three-dozen students soon arrived. That’s when I discovered that I was about to sit in on our school’s first Gay-Straight Alliance meeting. 

The news today brought yet another tragic story of a teen suicide [37] related to bullying.  The world lost a promising young man who had seen his share of teasing—like the time he’d dyed his hair pink in support of Breast Cancer Awareness Month.

But this time, he was on the other side of the equation. He was the bully. Along with two other boys, he stood accused by his elite prep school of harassing a fellow student because of that student’s sexual orientation. The school sent the boy home and pressured him to withdraw rather than face expulsion.