scribblechic

Yesterday I wrote about bullying in my son’s school. Frustrated, sad, and angry I vented my emotions between keystrokes. I was angry with the children that victimized my son, sad that children witnessing the unkindnesses did not feel empowered to speak up on my son’s behalf, angry with the bus driver under whose watch the transgressions occurred, frustrated with the school whose hands seem tied with red tape. Then, I accepted my anger towards myself.

The first time my son was bullied I addressed it at home. I treated the wound with words of love. You are a great kid! When other children get to know you better they will see that isn’t true. I created a conversation with questions: How did that make you feel? What did you say in response? What do you think you could do in the future? Who are the adults in your life that can help you? I tried to arm my son with awareness of inappropriate behavior, empowering words, and a plan to seek help. Then I let go. I should have held on.

My greatest regret at this moment is that I didn’t lead my child back to school the first time he was bullied, sit him beside me in the company of teachers and administrators, insisting on a complete intolerance for bullying. I wish I had demanded that children learn accountability for unkind words and that adults treat hateful words as acts of bullying. I wish I had verbalized there are no acceptable excuses for bullying another person. Period.

I have tried to teach tolerance and acceptance, forgiveness and patience in our home. I thought I was guiding my children, creating lessons in resilience. Looking at my son I wonder if I failed to communicate his worth.

I cannot change the past, but I can change myself. I have begun acknowledging my son’s victimization by speaking with other parents, seeking the council of resources within my community, and volunteering to partner with my son’s school to create a conversation about bullying. I am standing beside him, speaking up for him, and giving him opportunities to speak up for himself.

I do not have answers, but I know with unwavering certainty that bullying and hate are subjects that breed in silence.

Tagged: Bullying, Musings, Parenting