(I will be using a word referring to a particular bodily function that may offend/upset some people. This will also be discussing bullying. Use appropriate self-care.)
Several years ago, I wrote about Kevin (named changed to protect his privacy) who had been a friend of mine from church and school and who, in fourth grade, made a 180 turn and became a bully. To this day, I have no idea what happened to him.
This morning, I woke up remembering something he'd said about me and that sort of encapsulates how bullies operate and what was done about it in the 1970's.
I think most of us are familiar with the song "Frere Jacques" (Brother John). The lyrics in French are:
Frere Jacques
Frere Jacques
Dormez-vous?
Dormez-vous?
Sonnez les matines!
Sonnez les matines!
Din, din, don.
Din, din, don.
Kevin, for whatever his reasons, would often sing the song -- during class -- as:
Frere Jacques
Frere Jacques
Dormez-vous?
Dormez-vous?
Someone peed on Tina
Someone peed on Tina
Din, din, don.
Din, din, don.
My fourth grade class had some serious discipline problems. My original teacher, Mrs. Cook, was a older, very nice lady who, among other things, taught us about the state of Florida and had a brief lesson about The Diary of Anne Frank. All I remember about that lesson is reading the lines, "Anne had only begun to write. If she had lived, her talent would have developed and grown." (In 5th grade, I started keeping a diary and have done it off and on since.)
In the second half of the year, Mrs. Cook left because of health problems -- I cannot remember if she came back, although I think she did -- and the substitute that took her class had no idea how to discipline. She once left the room after ordering us, when I come back, I don't want to hear any talking, any meowing, or anything like that! When she left the room, immediately the class broke into noise, and several meows.
I don't remember Mrs. Cook or the substitute saying anything to Kevin about his vulgar song against me. It could be that they did and he just didn't listen. (I wrote this entry about another fourth grade incident where I had been accused of something I didn't do, and Mrs. Cook believed me.)
Basically, bullying was tolerated.
"So, Tina, why didn't you tell? Why didn't you say anything to a teacher or to your parents?"
Answer: What good would it have done?
I had already been told by my parents to "ignore them" way back in the first grade. I had learned in Sunday School and church that we were to turn the other cheek and forgive our enemies. I had also been told, either directly or indirectly, that if I fought back, I would be the one who got in trouble, and the bullies would get off scot free.
Not much has changed since 1972-1973, when I was in fourth grade.
I'm writing this with mixed feelings. I feel angry right now about what happened. I will process that anger in what are hopefully healthy ways. Sometimes I use this blog as a sort of therapy, writing out things that happened to me in the past so that I can learn from them, and maybe show other people that, "Look, you're not alone; this happened to me as well."
I may talk about this with my counselor, depending on when my next appointment is. Because I could have forgotten about this incident by then. I've been in therapy off and on since my 20's, and many of my sessions have led me back to childhood bullying.
I also feel angry for, and sad for, that little girl who thought she had to put up with being bullied and that she felt like she had no one she could turn to.
But, after several years of therapy, and being in a healthier church situation, especially, I have learned to tell myself that 99.9% of the world doesn't know who I am, and of the less than .1% who do, many of them have a "favorable opinion" of me.
I can walk into my church and have several people say, "Hi, Tina, how are you?" and some of them really do care about the answer to that question.
And although I can point to places where, "yes, bullying affected me here, here, and here," I'm no longer bullied. I am doing the work to come to terms with what happened.
But this morning's memory is a bit like the monkey on my back that jumps on me from time to time and tries to tell me that I deserved to be bullying, that I deserved to have Kevin tell me that "someone peed on me." Nope, no one deserves to be treated like that.
I do wonder what happened to Kevin to cause his behavior to change. I've speculated that maybe he suffered abuse and this was the way he handled it, by acting out. If I'm right, I hope he got the help he needed.
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