Bullies

For me, junior high was everything it's cracked up to be.  Starting seventh grade meant going to a bigger school, in a different city, with kids from many area elementary schools.  It meant switching classes after each period, learning to open a combination lock on the first try, and actually having to be physically active in gym.

Junior high brought real school dances with dimmed lighting and hormone-filled boys wearing fistfuls of their fathers' Old Spice cologne.  It gave us open lunch periods where we were free to roam the city streets completely unsupervised for nearly an hour each day.  It introduced the concepts of school pride and team spirit as we faced off with neighboring schools both academically and athletically.  And it also completed the migration of kids into groups and set the perfect stage for bullying.

Elementary school was different in that anyone could fall victim to the picking and it was generally short-lived.  Even the most popular kid could be tormented for a shirt his mother bought and forced him to wear for pictures that day.  A generally smart kid could get teased for one bad grade on a test.  The sudden appearance of glasses or braces was an automatic trigger for about a week's worth of harassment.  But, in general, it passed quickly because every day presented a new opportunity for someone else to land in the unwanted spotlight.  The moment Johnny's mother hugged him at drop-off, the less-than-designer jeans you wore yesterday were long forgotten.  (In my case, they had the words "Pinch me" embroidered on the back pockets.  My mom bought them and sent me to school without stopping to consider that nine-year-old boys would take it as both an invitation and permission, and I would come home from school with a black and blue tush).

Anyway, junior high didn't work that way.  Groups formed and suddenly you were given an identity based on the collective opinion of the entire school.  Every kid had to fit somewhere; very few stragglers managed to escape classification.  It was no longer acceptable to be friends with everyone.  This new awareness of social status influenced who you ate lunch with, who you talked to in class, and who you sat with on the bus.  And everyone was only one step away from permanent branding.  One ugly outfit, one bad hair day, one wrong social interaction, one tiny embarrassing moment in gym class, could all lead to years of torture.  But back then, as awful as it was, it was pretty much confined to school.

The level of bullying these days is absolutely terrifying.  The headlines announce instance after instance of teenage suicide as a result.  Technology has created a world where the teasing is endless, the scope reaches well beyond the school yard, and there is no escape, no break, no peace at all for the victims.  Mounds of people are blaming the schools, dumping the responsibility on educators, and frankly I think it's bullshit.  If they want to point fingers, point them at the parents raising these mean, nasty, name-calling, cocky, spiteful, arrogant packs of ignorant teenagers.

Teachers are responsible for reading, writing, and arithmetic; parents are responsible for teaching their children to have respect for themselves and others.  It starts at home, when elementary school is still years down the road, with the basic lessons of right and wrong.  When parents fail to teach their children the skills necessary to become decent members of society, they are every bit as responsible for their kids' actions as the kids are themselves.

Now excuse me while I fall face-first off my soapbox:

Punky is a bully.

Yes, you read that right.  At the ripe old age of three, she's a bully.  And I don't know how to fix it.

It doesn't help that I was totally caught off-guard.  I mean, again, she's three.  As the proud mom of an extremely intelligent, perfectly petite, normally well-mannered little girl, I always envisioned us landing on the other side of the fence when it was time to deal with this subject matter.  The side I was on as a kid.

I have experience with girls throwing gum in my hair on the school bus.  I know what it's like to not be invited to the popular kids' parties.  I learned how to not drop my books when shoved from behind in the school halls.  In fact, the worst bullying I ever faced was as an adult in my first job after college.  I know how to deal with life on that side of the fence, but aside from the occasional, expected, pushing around of my little sister, I don't have much experience on the other.

Punky seems to have gotten in with the wrong crowd at daycare, as ridiculous as that sounds, and by the wrong crowd I mean one specific little girl that has managed to wrap Punky around her little finger and influence her to no end.  For the sake of this post, I'll call her Stacy.  She is a full year older and almost twice Punky's size.  They were reunited when the school decided to move Punky up a class back in March.  Since then, the quality of her school day is measured first and foremost by whether or not Stacy was there that day.

At first I wasn't alarmed.  I'm glad she has a friend at school; that's how it should be.  But, over the course of the last two months, I've grown increasingly uncomfortable with their friendship.  Stacy is a trouble-making little brat, and she's dragging Punky down with her.

There is only one other girl in their class at school.  Let's call her Lilah.  Of the entire group, Lilah is closest to Punky's age at just over eight months older, and they were the best of pals when Punky first started there in January of last year.  I thought she would be thrilled to be in Lilah's group again, but something odd happened.  Based on what I've been able to piece together from things she says, it seems like Punky and Stacy, even at their young, innocent ages, have managed to form some sort of alliance against Lilah.  They won't let her play with them, they won't sit by her for circle time, and I even heard Punky make fun of Lilah's sneakers.

As you'd expect, we've had many conversations with Punky about Stacy, Lilah, and friends in general.  She knows how she is expected to treat the other kids at school.  We've talked about how it feels when someone is picked on or excluded by a group.  I've told her how important it is to have many friends, the more the merrier in fact.  And we explained, in the most basic terms possible, the concept of peer pressure and the importance of standing up for something you believe is right.

But, after all that talking, Punky's school life still seems to revolve entirely around Stacy to the point where she actually had a full-blown meltdown when I picked her up yesterday because Stacy was still there so Punky didn't want to go home.  She threw herself on the ground, kicking and screaming, and demanded to go to Stacy's house instead of coming with me.  I had to literally pick her up and carry her out, and then I struggled with her for another ten minutes in the parking lot because she wouldn't get in the car. 

I managed to keep my composure as she screamed at me the entire ride home.  Once we pulled in the driveway, all bets were off.  For the first time in her life she was given a real punishment, not just a few minutes in the time-out chair.  She spent the next twenty minutes in her room while I got dinner ready and counted to ten like fifty times.  She was not allowed to have her usual piece of candy after dinner, she was not allowed to watch TV, and she was not allowed to jump on her trampoline the entire evening.  As an added bonus, she had to listen to yet another lecture about Stacy and friendship.

I guess if it still doesn't sink in after all of that, my next step will be to talk to the daycare director and request they be kept apart as much as possible.  It just seems way too early to be dealing with this type of situation; it's like she hit junior high a decade ahead of schedule.