Mean kids have always vexed me. I wasn't exactly a goody-two shoes as a kid (more on the blue hair and that whole streaking thing later) but even in middle school I felt compelled to stand up for the defenseless victims of preteen bullying. And if the victim was one of my own--my brother, for instance, you'd better watch out. I just can't stand to see a human being ignored or disrespected, and never could.
This trait was probably what led me to any success I experienced as a science teacher. My earth science knowledge was fair at best, as my degree was biology and marine biology, and without a credential, I had pretty much no formal education training when I hit the middle school classroom. But my science lab became simply the medium I used to reach out to kids who are all feeling somewhat unlovable and are regularly teased, ignored, or flat out taunted. Even the cool kids were hollow inside and needed to know they would be loved--even if (especially if) they stopped their mean jokes or cool attitudes. I was the first teacher to volunteer to go to a conference on dealing with bullying, the last to complain about the hours of one-on-one advising we had to do, the most enthusiastic when we were asked to integrate community-building into our curricula.
I can't stand it when someone is excluded. It's so un-Jesus, you know? So imagine my blood-racing reaction when we were at the playground yesterday and two brothers, about 2 and 4 years old, continually ignored and then taunted Grace when she desperately wanted to play with them. It started pretty passive aggressive: the boys were sitting at a little picnic table that was cut underneath the play structure when Grace walked up and watched them for a minute. I said, "Can you guys make room for Grace? It looks like she wants to play here, too. And there is lots of room." The older one said, "No," flatly, and then they both swung their legs up into the benches, staking their territory and giggling to each other. I looked around for a mom or nanny, someone who would report me to the authorities if I bloodied their noses. Even after I spotted their mom off in la-la land at the other end of the park, staring into the distance, I decided that violence was not the answer. The real question was this: how would I want Grace’s inner dialogue to respond to this situation in the future?
After a few attempts at nicely shaming them into allowing her to have a turn or to play with her, I told Grace loudly that these boys were not very nice and hadn't yet learned how to share, so let's play somewhere else, shall we? It escalated into teasing/taunting as they threw woodchips at her if she was in their vicinity and the younger one shrieked as high and loud as he could into her ear if she walked by. Right when I saw one of them standing at the top of a ladder she was climbing, with woodchips in his hand and a snarl on his face, I ran to the steps to beat the living crap out of him, and then in a flash they were gone. They hit the tube slide and ran to their mom before I could scream, "mother fuckers!" at them.
There were mean girls at another grassy park near our house the other day. We stopped our ride in the wagon to watch two nine-ish year old girls and one younger sister play their own game of baseball/dodge ball. Brittany was the name of the one without the little sister. Brittany was just plain mean. She sarcastically yawned and rolled her eyes when her friend had trouble pitching straight. She yelled at the little sister to get every ball that went by her when she batted (but refused to get the sister’s balls when their paces were reversed). She never ever played outfield, just waited for her turn to bat. Once when she was running the bases and the friend was about to get her out, she changed the rules during the play to avoid her fate.
She was so alpha mean girl queen bee that I really wanted to know if this was how her parents raised her or what. Her MO was that to maintain cool girl status, she must ridicule the others, never ever lose, and act like she couldn’t care less about anyone else. The result was two-fold: 1. the friend turned all Brittany-like on her own sister, ostensibly to look cool to Brittany, and 2. they had no fun. Not one laugh erupting from their lips. Is this really what childhood is supposed to be? Contrast this with the two little boys down the block who were playing one on one basketball and laughing the entire time. Apparently some kids know how to play, to win, to lose, and others do not. Those that do seem to enjoy the game regardless of who wins. Those that do not know how to “play nice” work so hard at winning, excluding, or being better than others that there is no chance of them losing. But sadly, there is also no chance of them having any fun.
I wonder now to myself, how long can I control Grace and Natalie’s world so that they don’t interact with those people, (an unrealistic desire at best)? More to the point, how can I prepare them for the inevitable teasing/taunting/ignoring when I am not there to reframe it for them? And how can I comfort them after they are wounded in this way so that they, in turn, become defenders of others and forces for inclusivity? And why can’t we seem to let kids just be kids and have fun on their own anymore?
Last night, as I drove home from dinner at a friends’ house, I spotted two boys, probably 12 or 13, playing catch in the street. One of them yelled menacingly at an unseen person and threateningly pretended to throw the baseball at whoever it was. As I rounded the corner, I saw it was Brittany, sulkily sitting on the curb, not allowed to play with her brother and his friend. I guess we pass these traits down to each other—mother to son, brother to sister, friend to friend. Maybe it won’t be so hard to know how to make includers out of my daughters. First I must unshakably expect it out of myself.
