Forgive me folks, for I have sinned. It's been nearly a week since my last post. So, I'm coming back with a bang. POW! Here goes the Yo!
One of my kids has a bully in its school. Yeah, I said "its." I'm keeping the kid gender neutral to protect the institutions. If the problem isn't solved soon, and Napoleon continues to invade the space of poor, unsuspecting kids, I'm going to war. Not the smartest idea, but sometimes, you need big actions to yield results. In other words, "Knock it off, Napoleon, or the Battle of Waterloo is a-comin to your parents' hizzouse."
"Napoleon," enjoys punching, spitting and verbally-abusing kids. He shows no respect for others, including those in authority. It's sad, really. Kids aren't born bad. They become idiots when parents fail them. Oh, yes, I am pointing all 10 fingers at Mr. and Mrs. Bonaparte. My guess is they practice laissez faire parenting at home and I'm not down with that. Yes, yes. There are tons of causes of bullying. You can read them here. However, I strongly believe that parents are a core contributing factor.
So, to prepare my kids for any unexpected, upcoming pushes, pokes and punches, I bought a book called Billy Bully. It's the story of a bull who ruins all possible friendships due to his horrible actions. In the end, he's left with no school pals. It's a straight-forward book that hammers home a message most kids understand: If I'm mean, I'll have no friends.
I read it to the Doobies this evening and then asked them a few questions to make sure they got the gist.
Me: What is a bully?
Them: A mean person.
Me: What makes him mean?
Them: He treats his friends bad. He pushes them and hits them. That's not nice.
Me: What should you do if a bully hits you?
Them: HIT THEM BACK!
SCORE! Nothing warms a Hindu mama's heart like a child unwilling to turn the other cheek. Of course, I had to temper my excitement with responsible mom advice.
Um, well, no. Not exactly. Here's the deal. If a bully hits you, you tell him to stop. If he doesn't stop, you tell your teacher. If he still doesn't stop, you have my full, 100%, never-expiring, signed with a permanent marker permission to serve that bastard the biggest knuckle-sandwich he's ever eaten. You ball up your hand into a fist and knock that sucker into next week. Then, when the school calls, I'll politely explain how I gave you permission to do this because they failed you and, quite frankly, I was tired of my kid becoming some douchebag's punching bag.
I will do everything I can to follow the right channels to report bad behavior, but if I don't get results, I'm empowering my kids' hands -- and going public via blogposts and more.
As parents, we must have zero-tolerance for bullying and take a stand even if our child isn't the victim. The "do nothing because it's not my kid" mentality is cowardly thinking. Unfortunately, to effect change, sometimes you need numbers. In the case of bullying, lots of pissed-off parents demanding immediate action.
And that, my friends, is how I'm gonna roll with this intimidation issue. I don't care that the kids are young. I don't care that I should behave like a responsible adult. At some point, protection trumps patience. It breaks my heart to see kids being bullied. It pisses me off that kids aren't safe at school. I can't stand parents who turn a blind eye to abhorrent acts.
Napoleon, Mr. and Mrs. Bonaparte, you've been put on notice. Comprenez-vous?
3 comments:
Damn straight!! This blog better still be online when I get around to having kids... I'm going to use it as my "how to parent" book!
Oh no. You cannot use this blog as a handbook. Your kids will be screwed. BTW, your parents want to know when you guys are having kids. ;}
Your line of thinking, is the exact line of thinking that my parents taught me.
My dad likes to tell the story about how when I was in second grade, the boy down the road liked to pull my hair on the bus. I would come home all upset because he wouldn't stop pulling my hair. The 1st time my Dad told me to ask him to stop. The 2nd time I came home crying, my Dad told me to tell the bus drive. The 3rd time I came home with my tale of my hair being pulled, my Dad showed me how to all up my fist. I broke the hair puller's nose the following day. I made my Dad proud. Thankfully his parent & my parents were friends, and the hair pullers parents thought he got what he deserved.
You can only turn the other cheek so many times.
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