Children can be cruel. It is difficult to witness kid-on-kid bullying and equally difficult to squelch it in your classroom. Picking on others is in the DNA of the grade-school set, and often it is not grown out of even in high school, even in adulthood. The seeds of meanness are sown early.
At one point ,while I was teaching pre-k, a snooty little five year old was practicing being a bully in my classroom. I called him on the carpet every time I heard and insult fly from his asshole-in-training mouth, and it was clear he was getting tired of it. One day this boy, sweetly said to me “Miss Becky?” And then, with all the I’m-the-Director’s-son-and-thusly-incorrigible attitude he could muster, proudly proclaimed, “You’re FAT!”
I looked down at his bespectacled grin and calmly said, “Yes, C*****, and you have blue eyes. What’s your point?” The smile ran away from his face and he looked confused. Wasn’t I supposed to be upset? Wasn’t I supposed to yell, or to cry? Why didn’t his words hurt me?
The truth is, they did.
As a result of bad genetics, permissive parenting, and growing up in the American South, I was a chubby kid, and am a chubby adult. I was actually very slim as a teen, but that was mostly due to Adderall and an eating disorder. This preschooler’s words jolted me back to my own grade-school existance and the constant taunts of my classmates. Still, I couldn't let on, and I refused to let this bully in the making have any satisfaction off of me. To keep my own pride intact, and more important, teach this kid something, I got down on his level, and stared him right through his coke bottle lenses. “Why would you say that, C*****? Were you trying to hurt my feelings?”He stared at the floor. I could tell he wanted to run away, but my authority figure status glued his Tom’s slip-ons to the floor. “Is it any fun when someone else hurts your feelings? What if a friend said your glasses look stupid” He pushed the lenses back up on his nose, without looking up.
“I wouldn’t like it” came his meek response.
“No, I bet you wouldn’t. Why do we try a little ‘treat our friends like we want to be treated’ for the rest of the day?” When he saw that a time-out wasn’t headed his way, he looked up, eyes brightening. “But, C*****, “ I asked. (I always say the kid’s name a lot when I’m trying to make a point) “What do we do when we hurt somebody’s feelings?”
“Say Sorry.” came his rote response. then he paused, as though trying to figure out if hurting a teacher’s feeling was a worse crime than hurting a friend’s, and if it would be repaired by the same phrase. He then quoted chapter and verse the lines I had taught all my students to recite when they are in the wrong. “I’m sorry I called you fat. Do you still want to play with me?” Knowing I had the right, like I had taught the kids, to say “no, I am still upset,” and walk away, I considered it, but I smiled as I stood up and ruffled his blonde curls.
“Sure, “C*****, let’s go play some Legos”
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