This Thing I Did In 8th Grade

When I was in third grade (I know I said I was going to write about something I did in 8th grade, but this is the necessary backstory), I went to a new school. The Catholic elementary school I attended for 1st and 2nd grades closed, much to my horror, because I was very happy at that school, so my parents sent me to the Catholic elementary school one town over. And -- frankly -- I was miserable at that school. It was awful for me. I got bullied incessantly all through 3rd grade. I had no idea what I did to deserve it, and I was too young to realize that being bullied is never the fault of the victim. The horrible bullying died down in 4th grade, and beyond, but I never really -- shall we say -- "fit in with the 'in' crowd." I  didn't care all that much, because I had a wonderful, marvelous, big, extended Italian family. That family provided me with all the support and companionship anyone could hope to have. And I did manage to make a few very close friends at school, even though the class I was in still contained a pretty big percentage of bullies. I managed to keep the bullies off my back -- and my friends' backs, to some degree -- by being willing to punch them, when necessary. Of course, nowadays I would have gotten suspended, but this was in the 70's, so... ya know... things were different. And the teachers in that school never did anything to help us victims of bullies, and the bullies didn't seem to be interested in my powerful words, so the power of the fist prevailed.

My day-to-day life in this particular Catholic school, combined with the support of my Italian family, served to have a certain effect on me. And the effect was this: I learned to not really give an "f" about what people thought of me. If I was happy with myself, that was enough. And -- of course -- my good friends in that school made my heart happy. I have also always had a very strong spiritual life, and Jesus has always hung with me, no matter what. Sometimes, certain people try to make me feel like Jesus is unhappy with me, but I have learned to ignore those people. My parents were EXCELLENT teachers of conscience formation -- I really have never known anyone who is better at that task -- so, I know when mean, judgy people just need to be blown off.

Anyway...

This is what happened when I was in the 8th grade...

My teacher decided that it would be a good idea to have a class debate about abortion rights. The anti-abortion-rights team was quickly populated, but ABSOLUTELY NOBODY wanted to be on the pro-abortion-rights team. So, me -- being who I am and not giving an "f" about what anybody would think of me -- volunteered to be on that team. And it ended up that I was the ONLY person on that team. Everybody looked at me in the most judgy way, but -- hey -- you cannot have a debate without both sides being represented, and I understood that, even if none of the other Catholic school 8th graders did.

So, I went to the library (because there was no internet in those days) and scoured the place for information on why people thought abortion should be legal (because nobody had ever told me why people thought abortion should be legal). My family was very Italian and very Catholic. Nobody in my family could be described, even vaguely, as an "anti-abortion activist," but my grandmother put the family philosophy very simply -- "It's okay to keep them from getting there (meaning: contraception is okay), but once they are there, you leave them alone." End of conversation. And I was cool with that. I also must say that NOBODY in my family had any objection to me supporting the pro-abortion-rights side in the debate. My family was pretty awesome about bipartisanship. Therefore, I researched the heck out of the subject (I was determined to win, after all), and I prepared, and I rehearsed, and I pretty much destroyed the anti-abortion-rights side in that debate. The arguments the other side used were lame-ass. Admittedly, they were a bunch of Catholic school 8th graders, so there's that.

After that debate, I was pretty much treated like a pariah by my classmates. But, everyone recovered quickly. My class was, actually, fairly good about not holding grudges, and there was kickball to be played.

I learned a lot of important things from that experience, and one of them was what it is like to be treated like a pariah for your opinions. Because -- in my Italian family -- nobody ever got treated like a pariah, even the hippie cousins who hitchhiked around the country and didn't have jobs and espoused communism. They were still welcomed with open arms for dinner and card games and all kinds of fun. My dad did tell me, though, that I was not allowed to be a hitchhiking, unemployed, hippie communist; but, he did say that my cousins were really "nice kids." My dad was probably the most awesome person, EVER.

Anyhow, to tell you the truth, I was pretty amused by everyone's reaction to me after that debate. As I said, I had learned, over the years, not to give an "f" about what people thought of me, as long as I had searched by conscience and believed in myself.

I'm not exactly sure what my point is in telling you this story. It just came to mind today, and I felt like telling it, so I did. ;-)

Pax.

This Thing I Did In 8th Grade

When I was in third grade (I know I said I was going to write about something I did in 8th grade, but this is the necessary backstory), I went to a new school. The Catholic elementary school I attended for 1st and 2nd grade closed, much to my horror, because I was very happy at that school, so my parents sent me to the Catholic elementary school one town over. And -- frankly -- I was miserable at that school. It was awful for me. I got bullied incessantly all through 3rd grade. I had no idea what I did to deserve it, and I was too young to realize that being bullied is never the fault of the victim. The horrible bullying died down in 4th grade, and beyond, but I never really -- shall we say -- "fit in with the 'in' crowd." I really didn't care all that much, because I had a wonderful, marvelous, big, extended Italian family. That family provided me with all the support and companionship anyone could hope to have. And I did manage to make a few very close friends at school, even though the class I was in still contained a pretty big percentage of bullies. I managed to keep the bullies off my back -- and my friends' backs, to some degree -- by being willing to punch them, when necessary. Of course, nowadays I would have gotten suspended, but this was in the 70's, so... ya know... things were different. And the teachers in that school never did anything to help us victims of bullies, and the bullies didn't seem to be interested in my powerful words, so power of the fist prevailed.

My day-to-day life in this particular Catholic school, combined with the support of my Italian family, served to have a certain effect on me. And the effect was this: I learned to not really give an "f" about what people thought of me. If I was happy with myself, that was enough. And -- of course -- my good friends in that school made my heart happy. I have also always had a very strong spiritual life, and Jesus has always hung with me, no matter what. Sometimes, certain people try to make me feel like Jesus is unhappy with me, but I have learned to ignore those people. My parents were EXCELLENT teachers of conscience formation -- I really have never known anyone who is better at that task -- so, I know when mean, judgy people just need to be blown off.

Anyway...

This is what happened when I was in the 8th grade...

My teacher decided that it would be a good idea to have a class debate about abortion rights. The anti-abortion-rights team was quickly populated, but ABSOLUTELY NOBODY wanted to be on the pro-abortion-rights team. So, me -- being who I am and not giving an "f" about what anybody would think of me -- volunteered to be on that team. And it ended up that I was the ONLY person on that team. Everybody looked at me in the most judgy way, but -- hey -- you cannot have a debate without both sides being represented, and I understood that, even if none of the other Catholic school 8th graders did.

So, I went to the library (because there was no internet in those days) and scoured the place for information on why people thought abortion should be legal (because nobody had ever told me why people thought abortion should be legal). My family was very Italian and very Catholic. Nobody in my family could be described, even vaguely, as an "anti-abortion activist," but my grandmother put the family philosophy very simply -- "It's okay to keep them from getting there (meaning: contraception is okay), but once they are there, you leave them alone." End of conversation. And I was cool with that. I also must say that NOBODY in my family had any objection to me supporting the pro-abortion-rights side in the debate. My family was pretty awesome about bipartisanship. Therefore, I researched the heck out of the subject (I was determined to win, after all), and I prepared, and I rehearsed, and I pretty much destroyed the anti-abortion-rights side in that debate. The arguments the other side used were lame-ass. Admittedly, they were a bunch of Catholic school 8th graders, so there's that.

After that debate, I was pretty much treated like a pariah by my classmates. But, everyone recovered quickly. My class was, actually, fairly good about not holding grudges, and there was kickball to be played.

I learned a lot of important things from that experience, and one of them was what it is like to be treated like a pariah for your opinions. Because -- in my Italian family -- nobody ever got treated like a pariah, even the hippie cousins who hitchhiked around the country and didn't have jobs and espoused communism. They were still welcomed with open arms for dinner and card games and all kinds of fun. My dad did tell me, though, that I was not allowed to be a hitchhiking, unemployed, hippie communist; but, he did say that my cousins were really "nice kids." My dad was probably the most awesome person, EVER.

Anyhow, to tell you the truth, I was pretty amused by everyone's reaction to me after that debate. As I said, I had learned, over the years, not to give an "f" about what people thought of me, as long as I had searched by conscience and believed in myself.

I'm not exactly sure what my point is in telling you this story. It just came to mind today, and I felt like telling it, so I did. ;-)

Pax.

Bullying And Family Life

Yesterday, I spoke about the need for kids to be allowed to stand up for themselves against bullies.  Today, I would like to speak of how our homes and family lives can be used to shield our children from bullying and its negative effects.

Young people, common wisdom holds, are very peer-oriented.  It is quite important to them to feel accepted by their confreres, to "fit in."  And this makes them especially vulnerable to bullying.  Bullies can make their targets virtual outcasts at school and in other social situations, as most kids -- even those who aren't doing the bullying -- feel unable to stand up to these mean people.  So, the victims of bullies are often victimized twice over -- by the bullies themselves, and by the otherwise nice kids who don't befriend or stick up for them out of their own fear of the bullies.  I had this experience myself in school. When I was bullied, the kids who actually liked me would often avoid me because they were afraid to become targets themselves.  So, not only did I feel abused by the mean kids, I also felt very alone.

And this is where a positive home and family life are so important for young people who are victims of  bullies.  Now, I realize that for some kids, a good home life is a near impossibility.  And that is an issue to be addressed separately.  For now, I am speaking to parents -- married, single, straight, or gay  -- who have the ability to create a haven in their homes for their kids.  Who can make their relationships with their kids into safe harbors against the storms of life, including bullying.  And I believe this to be a grave parental responsibility.  I know that we as parents have plenty of our own problems, and it can be tempting to play down the problems that our sometimes difficult teens are having.  Really, though, in the long run, if we can reach inside and dig out of ourselves whatever is necessary to help our kids, we are not only helping them -- we are helping ourselves.  I mean, let's face it.  Nothing makes your life more miserable than a miserable kid. (Yes. I guess I am appealing a little bit to our own adult selfishness here.  Please forgive.)

I know that in my own experience of growing up, nothing comforted me more in the face of the bullies at school than looking forward to Sunday dinner at my grandparents' house, where my cousin would be over.  We used to play "The Flying Nun" and my cousin always got to be the Mother Superior.  We would attempt to "fly" by jumping off of my nana and grandpa's front porch.  And if you don't know what "The Flying Nun" is, then Google it. #generationgap ;-)

And after a tough day in the presence of bullies, what could be lovelier than a meal with a dad who will truly listen - or - having your mom read aloud from that ridiculous hippie-era book, "Flowers for Algernon," that your stuck-in-the-60's English teacher insists upon assigning - or - sitting on the couch watching a movie with your siblings, while your parents make you popcorn?

You, as parents, may say to me, "My kids just aren't interested in doing these kinds of things with us." Well, I beg to differ. With a little finesse on your part, dear parents, most of your kids would be happy to hang with you, to accept this kind of comfort from you.  You just have to be a little bit clever about it. Ask yourselves what would have made you want to hang out with your own parents when you were young.

After all, isn't it really in the home, with our families, where we are truly meant to find our comfort and sense of belonging in this life?  I think so.  And it is our job as parents to teach our children this, to give them this gift.  For if our kids know that they actually do have a place in this world, a place that is secure, then it will be much easier for them to say -- "Who gives a flying f**k about these bullies, anyway?"

Bullying

Bullying.  A REALLY big issue among young people these days.

Of course, there have always been bullies. Many people, though, are blaming the current extent of the problem on today's technology -- iPhones, texting, Facebook, etc.  And I do not doubt that these things have greatly exacerbated the phenomenon.  I wonder, though, if something else is going on. Something having to do with the fact that -- at least since my kids were small -- children have been discouraged from standing up for themselves in the face of bullies. They have been told to "use their words" and to just avoid/ignore these nasty people. But, as we all should know, real bullies do not care about words and they will often hunt you down if they smell fear.

When I was in the third grade, there was a real bully in my class -- a girl, who was a fair amount bigger than most of the other children.  And she was downright mean. She would, for example, pin the second graders to the wall and demand their ice cream money.  The school authorities, for whatever reason, seemed helpless in the face of her nastiness. This girl used to come up behind me each and every day, as I was walking to my mother's car after class, and punch me. I would go home and cry about this to my parents. I had no idea what to do.  I had complained to my teacher, but no one at the school stopped this occurrence.  And I was at my wit's end.  One night, my father told me, "The next time she hits you, turn around and punch her."  I was terrified at the thought of this. I had never fought with anyone. Well, except for my siblings.  But, I decided to follow his advice. The next day, she walked up behind me and hit me, as per usual. I then spun around and let her have it.  Me -- in my Catholic school uniform skirt, bobby socks, and pigtails.  She ran off crying.  Upon returning to school the following morning, I was the hero of grades one through three and the girl never bothered me again.

I had a similar experience in middle school.  There was a sturdily built bully boy who used to constantly get in my face -- and the faces of others -- with his little nasty ways.  He used to crowd and body slam me fairly often.  One day, I slugged him.  His days of pestering me came to an end, and we even developed a sort of "friendship" -- mutual peace through the end of eighth grade, anyway.

Kids nowadays, though, would be suspended or even expelled, and their parents possibly sued, for standing up for themselves in the manner I have just described.  Don't get me wrong.  I am not for violence among children and teens.  But, true bullies -- in my opinion -- need to be faced down, especially at the beginning of their "bullying careers."  If a kid learns early on that his nasty behavior won't be tolerated by the nice kids, there is a better chance to nip the whole thing in the bud.  As it is now, good kids are being put into a position of weakness and vulnerability, while the bullies have all the real power.

And this is just ass-backwards.