Bullying - It Takes A Village.

I was interviewed here yesterday on the subject of bullying.  The producer of the show sought me out because of this post she found on my blog.  My son's aggressive behavior which was of concern to me in the post was not chronic (which I think would have better suited the show's purposes) but they liked what I had to say on the subject and how I said it so they invited me on the show.

Let's see...

NPR - LOVE. 
Lisa Belkin/Motherlode blogger - ALSO LOVE
WNYC - hometown radio, LOVE

After initial jitters and concerns, I was in.



Since the interview, I've been reading the discourse from commenters here and here and here and it's obvious that bullying and the extent to which parents are responsible for it is a heated and thorny subject.  A majority of the commenters feel that having a bully for a child is solely the fault of the parent, whether through modeling or encouraging of bad behavior or through ignorance of their child's action or whereabouts.  I have more to say than was possible on the radio so I thought I'd say it here and then open up the floor for discussion.

First let me say, that though the radio show labeled me as the "mother of a bully" (I'm still wincing), what didn't get revealed was that, as a teenager, I was the victim of bullies (three different sets of them).  Once in summer camp where I was placed on trial in front of a jury of my peers who judged me guilty and then silently and wickedly tormented me (as girls do) for the remaining two weeks of camp.  Once in junior high when a group of my friends (including my very best friend who suddenly became popular) turned on me and made my life miserable causing me to fake illness many a day so I wouldn't have to face them.  And then again in high school when I joined in with a group of kids who spent more time hanging out smoking pot in the back of school than studying.  When I realized I'd rather get good grades than good weed I stopped hanging out with them and they took it as a rejection (which, I guess, it was). 

For most of my junior year I was verbally teased, taunted and threatened by them.   They called me J.A.P., snob, and scolded me publicly for thinking I was better than them.  For months, I found different ways to get from class to class and quiet places to eat lunch just to stay out of their range.  One Saturday night they called my house at 2am, drunk, threatening that if I showed up at school that Monday they'd push me into an open locker and lock me in.   My parents eavesdropped on the call and it was at that point that I finally told them what was going on.  Before that I WAS TOO EMBARRASSED to do so.  My father gave me a wrench to put in my purse and instructed me to hit them with it if they came near me.  They didn't.  But they continued their bullying and I made light of it at home not wanting my parents to get further involved and risk me additional humiliation. 

During the last days of school, during NY Regent Exams, I was exiting the building after a test and walking to my car alone.  Some of the girls, my ex-friends, appeared behind me and started in with the usual taunting.    What wasn't usual about this time, what upped the ante, was that they had with them a new friend, a six foot tall, heavyweight, black kid whom I'd never seen before, yet who seemed to hate me every bit as much as the girls did.  I said a few words, telling them to back off and stepped up my pace to the parking lot.  They too sped up and before I knew it the big guy was throwing eggs at me.  I made it to my car and as I pulled out of the lot covered in yolks and tears, I watched as they huddled, convulsed in tears of their own, of laughter.

So I know what bullying is about first-hand.    I am sensitive to it.  I do not role model this behavior for my child and I do not condone it.   Yet my son was acting like one anyway.  That is why I was so concerned at the first sign of his unacceptable behavior and why I sought help from my blog readers, our coaches, and some professionals.  That is why this argument from commenters about parents of bullies being bullies and encouraging bullying behavior incenses me.

You cannot just blame the parents.  Remember Hillary Clinton and IT TAKES A VILLAGE - well it does.  It takes the parents, the school administrators, camp counselors, after-school coaches, and any other adult your child comes in contact with in their busy life.  If you have this kind of support you could be in good shape, but even with it, I feel that the argument the commenters are making forgets one very important thing - the influence of your child's peers.  Notice how I don't say friends.  A teenager is often more influenced by a kid they don't like - a more popular kid, better athlete, dangerous kid - than ones they do.  Teens operate out of wanting to belong and out of fear.  So while I think parents have "control" over their kids when they're young, they lose it as the children become teens and their actual hands-on, day to day involvement becomes less, and the outside influences of their peers becomes more. 

I believe as parents it is our job to teach them to be good moral people with compassion, empathy, sensitivity and respect.   But I also believe that as they grow older and gain independence we have to (to some extent) cross our fingers, hope they listened, and hope for the best. 

Your child is a part of you, they are OF you, but they are NOT you.  Even the best parents cannot be with their children at all times, nor should they, and even the best parents do not have ultimate control over their child's thoughts and behaviors.

It would be wonderful, comforting, and easy to think we do but we don't.   I am not arguing that some parents in some situations are, in fact, responsible for their child's bad behavior for the reasons mentioned by some commenters.  But I do argue with the statement that ALL parents of ALL bullies are bullies themselves and I think that those who believe this are wrapping themselves into a nice, warm, cocoon of false security.  It can't happen to me because I'm not like that. 

Obviously I am passionate about this.  What about you?  Share your opinion but please be civil.  We are all adults here, not bullies.  :)

Is My Son Becoming A Bully?

Okay, so he's only eight. But really? I am so tired of saying the same phrases over and over again.

"Treat other people the same way you would like them to treat you."
"Put yourself in his shoes. How would you feel if someone did that to you?"
"Just because someone else does something bad doesn't give you permission to do it, too."
"I want to be proud of you and this behavior does not make me proud."
"It's okay to not like someone. You don't have to like everybody. But you must be respectful of them anyway."

There are so many more things I repeat on a daily basis about homework, feeding the dogs, limited computer time, but it is really upsetting me that he doesn't get the above.

It's not that we've seen or heard him be mean to anyone (and he has never been in trouble at school) but he recounts scenarios for me when he gets home. Up until now, I thought it was just my son creating stories of what he wished he could've done or said but didn't. And I get that. We all need our release and I'd rather he do it with me. But yesterday I got a hint (I don't know if it's true because the info was very sketchy) that some of his stories might be true.

So, after weeks of trying it the nice way, yesterday hubby and I laid down the law.

"Here's the deal," we announced. "If we see or hear that you've said or done anything to hurt this boy, we will punish you the likes of which you have never seen."

"Take away the WII?" he asked sheepishly.

"No, honey. Bigger than that. We will take away the WII AND ground you. No playdates, no tv, no computer, no nothing but studying and helping me around the house for two weeks."

I have no idea if this was the "right" thing to do but the words did seem to register.

We will soon know for sure.


FOR FULL DISCLOSURE and to be fair, I have heard that this particular boy often joins in games and then tries to bend the rules, stopping everything and whining that no one else is playing fair. My son is not the only one complaining about this boy but it is my son I care about most. Also, this boy is known to kick or shove when he doesn't get his way, so I get how on a daily basis this can be annoying. I have told my son that he should talk to the coaches about this boy but he tells me the coaches tell them to settle things on their own. (Hmmm...Note to self: May have to talk with the coaches.)


** OH, AND A FUNNY SIDE TO THIS STORY: Here is a scene on the play yard as my boy recounted it for me. It gave me a chuckle.

The other boy was acting out and making my boy and his friends mad:

My boy: "What's your issue?"
Other boy: "Nothing."
My boy: "You've got anger management problems."

When did this become playground lingo???

You Can Take The Girl Out of New York: But You Can't Take The New York Out of the Girl

Hubby and son are out of town this weekend watching NKOTB and The Jonas Brothers in concert. Daughter and I are home alone. I ask my lovely pre-teen out to dinner and a movie, imagining quality mother/daughter time but am flatly R-E-J-E-C-T-E-D for time with her MacBook. (I try looking hurt but she doesn't fall for the Jewish guilt thing - damn!)

So I make the best of the humiliation situation and lay down to read a book of essays I'd just taken out of the library. Two hours later, hair matted down and mascara smudged, I wake up disoriented, not knowing if it is day or night. Half asleep I run down the stairs to make sure everything is okay. Daughter is on the couch where I left her, still on the computer, dog is sleeping next to her. I feel like days have gone by, she didn't even notice I was gone.

You may think this is going to be a post about restricting daughter's computer time, working on her priorities (i.e. me). But no. This post is not about her. It's about me.

Because after I woke from the dead it was 8pm and we hadn't eaten dinner. I called a local restaurant (the one my husband refuses to patronize and the only place in town with a full bar - can you say packed on weekends?) to order yummy Japanese.

Now I've said before, I live in a casual California beach town; flip flops, sun dresses, minimal makeup. So while I did run my fingers under my eyes to erase the skid marks, I didn't bother fixing my hair or reapplying cover-up to the pimple on my chin. It didn't dawn on me until I got to the restaurant that I'd be picking my order up at the bar - said bar where the young hang out in their tee shirts and shorts, being all Beach Boy cool, and drinking pina coladas and pomegranate martinis.

I wait and I wait while a guy flirts with the bartender and she with him. He is standing in the cramped spot designated for take out orders. I stand behind two girls leaning back in their bar chairs, citrus-infused vodka coursing through their bloodstreams, and gossiping about a mutual "friend".

These days, in my 40's, I generally walk around with a positive attitude, a lightness of being. I smile, don't take things too seriously or get easily agitated. (FYI - this is a long way from the angry, brooder that was me at 20 and 30). But standing here, ignored by the bartender, unnoticed by the guy, and stared down by the two girls, a bitter taste rises up. My negative inner voice, rarely heard from of late, shouts, "You 're doing the walk of shame, babe. With your bird's nest hair, your smudged owl eyes, and your stinky breath, you're like Amy Winehouse right before rehab. And DO NOT get me started on that crusty piece of ugly on your chin. WHAT DO YOU EXPECT?! Of course, they're ignoring you!

I'm mature now. I've evolved. I've had enough therapy to recognize the voice for what it is - an insecure bully gaining strength by making me weak. Yeah, yeah, yeah. So I squelch the little bastard, shift my stance, and non verbally demand the bartender's attention.

"Are you waiting for an order?" she asks as if seeing me for the first time.
"Yes, I am," I smile with an ever-so-subliminal "you suck" thrown in for good measure.

The guy finally moves out of the way to allow me to pay. One of the girls whose back is now toward me, keeps turning her head around to check me out. She says nothing but arches her back to look at me no less than three more times.

WTF? Does she think I'm single, ordering for myself on a Friday night and going home alone to watch Tivo? Is she throwing a pity party for me - poor ugly duckling, she has no life? Or am I the gruesome train wreck and she's the curious looky-lou?

I subtly tilt the fingers on my left hand toward her so she can see my wedding band. I repeat my order to the bartender so she can hear I've ordered food enough for two and then I realize she might think I'm depressed and bingeing.

I can't believe how desperate I am. I have no problem dining alone in public. I love going to the movies by myself. I did it for years out of necessity and now I do it by choice. I like my own company. But feeling unattractive and feeling judged to be unattractive by others, old insecurities come flooding back and so do the defenses. I wonder - have I really evolved into a self-assured woman or have I merely changed by circumstance - hiding behind a curtain of self-worth known as marriage and family?

The woman cranes her neck again to look at me. I continue looking straight ahead but mumble in my best New York tough, "What the f#*k are you looking at?"

She must have heard me because she did not turn around again. I take my order and leave. I feel badly about the bitchy regression, but I feel kind of good, too.

I mean, "What the f@*k was she looking at?"