High school bullying and me
Nov. 14th, 2011 05:39 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
onepageatatimeEarlier this morning, I read a tweet that sent me to an article from Britain's The Independent: It starts with calling names, but can end in despair and suicide: Study says nine in 10 children have either been bullied or witnessed others being abused in school.
And it got me thinking about my own experiences with bullying. There were two bullies in high school who I ended up reporting to the administration. Both involved physical violence against me. One seemed to make it his mission to prevent me from getting to the music room. Room 210 was down a short side hallway and he and a couple of friends took the opportunity to shove me around. Because I couldn't get to the room without passing them (or close to them). It was more of a nuisance to me than anything else and it stopped quickly, once I reported it. (I have to say that my school had a good anti-harassment policy.)
The other experience, in the same school. It actually happened in class. That was scarier. The room was set up so that the door was at the front right of the room. My desk was at the front left. The bully's was front and middle. There was at least a row between us. But I did have to pass his desk to get to mine.
More importantly, the class pencil sharpener was just in front of my desk, as well as (I think) a table or shelf where books were stored. Which meant that he had legitimate reason to be right near my desk. And on one occasion, he just up and kicked toward my head. Out of the blue.
That one got to me. Especially because the teacher was oblivious. (Oblivious to the incident, but also in general. He was known to talk to his chalk.) I remember walking in the hall, trying to force myself to go into class. And not being able to do it, because I was afraid. I was a good student, I loved learning, and I was afraid to go into the classroom. I couldn't force myself to do it.
I reported it. I'm sure he got into trouble. But I think there is one place where the school failed me. Nobody really checked to make sure I was OK. I mean, I know they made sure I was physically OK. But nobody really checked up on how I was. And I was able to get back into class. It feels like "out of sight, out of mind": my physical body can't be ignored. And since it was healthy and it was back in class...it feels like that's where the school felt its responsibilities ended.
That's the first time I remember fear and anxiety. I've definitely felt them since then.
And it's also like these two things have pushed out the low-level comments I'd hear. They don't even register in my memories, though I remember not fitting in. I remember there being comments. I also remember there were homophobic comments that I didn't even understand yet. (It's appalling how old I was before I even recognized the word "gay," and that it was used as a weapon against me that I didn't even understand by people my own age.)
Even though time has passed (these events would be 15 to 20 years ago), they have formed me. And I don't think I understand the fulness of that. Especially because even now, it's hard to think about this stuff.
And it got me thinking about my own experiences with bullying. There were two bullies in high school who I ended up reporting to the administration. Both involved physical violence against me. One seemed to make it his mission to prevent me from getting to the music room. Room 210 was down a short side hallway and he and a couple of friends took the opportunity to shove me around. Because I couldn't get to the room without passing them (or close to them). It was more of a nuisance to me than anything else and it stopped quickly, once I reported it. (I have to say that my school had a good anti-harassment policy.)
The other experience, in the same school. It actually happened in class. That was scarier. The room was set up so that the door was at the front right of the room. My desk was at the front left. The bully's was front and middle. There was at least a row between us. But I did have to pass his desk to get to mine.
More importantly, the class pencil sharpener was just in front of my desk, as well as (I think) a table or shelf where books were stored. Which meant that he had legitimate reason to be right near my desk. And on one occasion, he just up and kicked toward my head. Out of the blue.
That one got to me. Especially because the teacher was oblivious. (Oblivious to the incident, but also in general. He was known to talk to his chalk.) I remember walking in the hall, trying to force myself to go into class. And not being able to do it, because I was afraid. I was a good student, I loved learning, and I was afraid to go into the classroom. I couldn't force myself to do it.
I reported it. I'm sure he got into trouble. But I think there is one place where the school failed me. Nobody really checked to make sure I was OK. I mean, I know they made sure I was physically OK. But nobody really checked up on how I was. And I was able to get back into class. It feels like "out of sight, out of mind": my physical body can't be ignored. And since it was healthy and it was back in class...it feels like that's where the school felt its responsibilities ended.
That's the first time I remember fear and anxiety. I've definitely felt them since then.
And it's also like these two things have pushed out the low-level comments I'd hear. They don't even register in my memories, though I remember not fitting in. I remember there being comments. I also remember there were homophobic comments that I didn't even understand yet. (It's appalling how old I was before I even recognized the word "gay," and that it was used as a weapon against me that I didn't even understand by people my own age.)
Even though time has passed (these events would be 15 to 20 years ago), they have formed me. And I don't think I understand the fulness of that. Especially because even now, it's hard to think about this stuff.