Biddies on the bus
Posted on October 25, 2007
Filed Under parenting, suburban joys, bus rides, milestones, letter |
The ass kicking has been called off. O woke up yesterday morning and had a change of heart. He informed me, in his most mature and serious voice, “I think I’m just gonna live with it, Mom.” And I breathed just a tiny sigh of relief before saying, “That’s fine and I respect that, but if Brian or Max ever, ever touch you, then I want to hear about it.” He nodded. Understood. The wrath of Mom has been called off. For now.
I am thankful O has decided to pause and ponder and strategize a way around this thing. I’m hopeful that it’s a sign of self awareness and confidence. But, alas, it may well be that I scared the crap out of him with my warnings about retaliation and the results of earning a reputation as a tattle-tale. Nevertheless, these are valuable life lessons. No one likes a narc. And while bullying should not be allowed, should not exist in a perfect world with perfect children and perfect schools and perfectly positioned and attentive adult supervisors in the form of teachers and bus drivers and crossing guards, we all know that this longed-for perfection is not the reality. I believe that the sooner my kids learn to handle the taunts and tortures that are an inevitable by-product of childhood, the better off they’ll be.
So we shall see how this pans out and, just to make you all feel a little better about my decision to let it roll, let me say that my O is very large for his age.
And there’s my own personal experience influencing my parenting decisions. The whole bus-bullying situation not only reminds me of having to apologize to Becky Rhettman back in grade school, it also reminds me that I, too, was bullied. It was seventh grade and there were three mean girls, Bridgette, Francesca and Lisa and they had it in for me and my two chums. Like Brian and Max, they were a year older than us and, now, with hindsight I can see, threatened by the utter cool factor exuded by me and my two BFF’s. They were trying to establish dominance by way of prank calling (ahhh, the days before caller i.d.) and threatening to beat us up at football games or in the seventh grade hallway between classes. (Yes, some girls do threaten violence but only Townie girls).
And finally, rather than involving my parents, I took the intiative. I figured if they beat me up once, then there’s little to no fun to be had in the second lashing. And if things turned out in my favor, then I’d have the upperhand for awhile. I saw it as a win-win. The torture would stop no matter the outcome. And it helped that one of the three biatches rode our bus home from school without the support of her, big-haired, frosted lipstick wearing, gangster friends. She was isolated. She was quiet and retreating without her posse. So, one afternoon as we rode home from school, I challenged her to what should, for all intents and purposes, be considered a duel.
With all the bluster and bravado that an eleven year girl can muster, I suggested she put up or shut up. I clambered off the bus at her stop and said, “Let’s do it.” I was ready. “Bring it on.”
And of course she sort of quietly skulked off and evaded my advances. Her bark was a whole lot worse than her bite. As I remember it, that was sort of the end of the prank calls and the taunting and the threats.
I’m sure there’s a little revisionist history at work here. It all seems to cinematic, too tight a denoument for real life. But the important point is that I survived, my friends survived and Lisa, Bridgette and Francesca are still probably living in that small and stultifying town where we grew up. They are bar maids or mechanics or professional wrestlers.
As well that ends well…
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