I was a bully. And I am ashamed.
I wasn’t that kid pushing others down in hallways or pulling mean pranks like gluing school supplies together or pulling their pants down as they walked to class.
But I was a bully nonetheless.
Because I watched. I laughed. I chanted the mean chants or repeated the nasty nicknames about a few other students.
I was too afraid of becoming a target myself to stand up for another. And while I may not have been the instigator, I know in my heart, I aided and abetted. In legal terms, I guess I would be known as an accessory to bullying.
In Grade 5, I changed schools and in my class was a boy whose family had recently immigrated from Poland, or some other Eastern European country. I never took the time to find out which.
But I remember his name – Dusan Krickovic. He was quiet and kept to himself, tried not to draw much attention to his unusual accent or his tendency to be clumsy. That was until one day, when he made a big mistake in the Grade 5 social realm. He talked to his eraser. Gave it a name. Scolded it when it wouldn’t clear the number 2 pencil off his paper. And that was all it took.
Dusan was marked. Never scoring too high on the Grade 5 social rankings, Dusan now plummeted to the lowest of the low.
He nearly redeemed himself during a game of kickball, which was played the same as baseball, but with the batter kicking the ball instead of hitting it with a bat. The game was tied and there were scoffs as he approached. But Dusan wound up and he blasted that ball right past all the jocks in the outfield. The look on Dusan’s face was pure joy. I’m not sure if everyone caught it, but I sure did. He had done it, and you could see him take in the fact that the kids were cheering for him instead of the usual jeering.
And then it happened.
Instead of running around the bases the correct way from first to home, Dusan headed as fast as he could for third base. The kids yelled for him to go the other way, but I think he was so caught up in his moment, it wasn’t until he ran all the way home that he realized the kids he thought were cheering for him, were now, once again laughing at him. And I was one of them.
His triumphant kick turned into disaster, as the teacher ruled his home run would not count because he didn’t follow the rules.
To this day, I still get tears in my eyes remembering Dusan’s look of joy and wonder turn to pain and resignation.
It makes me wince to think I contributed to making someone feel so low. I know I’m not the only bully out there.
At that time, the bullied were told to suck it up. So I’m so glad that now, when my own children are in school, there is an increasing awareness of bullying and how dramatically it can affect children and teens.
I can’t change how I reacted when I was in Grade 5. I can only say I’m sorry.
I hope with increasing awareness and education, my children won’t ever have to look back and regret bullying another.
