Helping my children phase out bullying
Ibrahim came downstairs to the basement where I was marking tests after school last week. “Mustafa is mad,” he told me. “Why?” “His friends were bugging him.” And my heart stopped. Mustafa is in Grade 7 and whenever I ask about school, he answers with variations of “Yeah” and “Yup” and “Everything is fine, Mom, honest!”
I believe him, mostly because he is a cheerful smiling kid who inherited my terrible poker face. He has had the same group of friends since kindergarten. At one point or another, most of them have spent time sprawled on my couch, eating my chips, hogging my TV and celebrating each other’s birthdays.
But I worry. I was bullied throughout most of grade school and the memory of that experience influences my reaction to my own kids’ school experience. When my sons started school, the thing I worried about most was: Do you have friends? Are they nice to you? Are you being bullied?
Later that evening, I asked Mustafa what happened at school with his friends. He told me about a basketball spat and I relaxed. It didn’t sound too bad and his face was not carefully neutral when he spoke. He shrugged and moved on with his usual question: What’s for dinner? The next day, everything seemed to be fine, and Ibrahim reported no further trouble on the schoolyard that week.
When I was their age, I would have been happy just being invited to play on the court. Terrified, because I was the kid who flinched every time a ball came near me, but happy to be included.
Mustafa is included, most of the time. And when he isn’t, it’s hard for me to know what to say to him. Because I don’t know what to say myself.
“It gets better. It’s a phase. They’re not your real friends anyway,” are the platitudes well-meaning adults tell kids who are excluded and targeted. Except that’s not so easy to believe when you’re living in the fishbowl of grade school.
I was a nerd in school. Worse, I was the teacher’s pet. I was also bad at sports, yet very competitive. I spent a lot of time staring dreamily into space and reading books in the corner, so my classmates thought I was weird. I wasn’t funny either; that came later, when I learned to use humour to deflect aggression and conflict. I may or may not have spent most of Grade 2 spinning in circles and pretending I was Wonder Woman. OK, I definitely did that. #LyndaCarter4Life!
So I got made fun of at school. It was never physical, for which I am grateful. And hate that I feel grateful. I know I wasn’t bullied as badly as others. My home life was happy and stable, and my parents, who recognized that I was struggling socially, made an effort to find me a supportive group of friends at the local mosque, people I am still close to after all these years.
But I never want my kids to go through the same thing.
I know schools are doing more now to address victimization. Ibrahim tells me that there are plenty of teachers on the schoolyard at recess. There are Pink Shirt days and Character Matters initiatives, assemblies and awareness. For my own part, when I ask my sons about school, I make sure to ask about their friends too, and if anything is bothering them. I remind them to look out for others who are excluded and teased frequently, or who act out because they feel rejected. I hope my sons will never be bystanders to injustice.
I also told them I was teased in school, and how horrible that made me feel when I was a kid and for years afterward. I want them to recognize the different types of bullying, not simply close their eyes because it’s not happening to them. I know first hand that empathy is tied not just to experience, but also compassion.
I am grateful my kids have friends they can trust. School, just like life, is a lonely place without allies and companions by your side. If nothing else, being bullied has made me appreciate loyal friends.
It did get better for me, but I will never forget. Uzma Jalaluddin is a high school teacher in York Region. She writes about parenting and other life adventures. Reach her at ujalaluddin@outlook.com