The front page of today's newspaper carried an excellent article on bullying in schools. The middle school in a neighboring town has enacted a cutting edge, courageous, anti-bullying program. As soon as I finish this column, I'm heading out the door to find that school and grovel at the principal's feet. Then I'm going to my kids' schools to beg their principals to enact the same program.
Bullying. Are the flashbacks hitting you too? I'm standing on the sidewalk outside my first grade classroom. I'm wearing a smashing long, kelly green dress emblazoned with neon pink lions (compliments of my mother and Simplicity #1222). I was sporting a Liza Minelliesque pixie hairdo (courtesy of my brother who cut off one of my long pigtails that summer) and a mouth full of baby teeth.
Although I didn't notice, I must have stood a head lower than all my classmates. Why else would they pass by me gawking and yelling, “Hey! Look at the Shrimp!” Or come up to me and ask, with genuine research tone sincerity, “Why are you so short?” I'm sorry to say, thirty years later, I still get asked that question. (I wish I could say, “I was born this way; but why are you so fat?”) Maybe the experts who developed the anti-bullying program for teenagers can create one for adults.
Here I was, at the ripe old age of six; yet I didn't know I was “short.” It took my very kind classmates to enlighten me. Even my three older brothers, Curly, Larry, and Moe, never brought up the size issue. Called me Grace Garbage for digging stuff out of our trash cans? Yes. Teased me about my size? No.
Flash forward to 2002, when it took a small gang of girls in my daughter's fifth grade class to enlighten her to the fact that she wears braces and glasses. Frankly, our entire family was aghast to learn this! How did we miss such obvious facts all the while living off macaroni and cheese to pay for such entities?
It's amazing how suddenly my daughter started “forgetting” her glasses after these budding bullies informed her she wore them. Just as quickly, my bright, dramatic daughter with the infectious laugh stopped smiling. After all, that would show her braces and how embarrassing it must be to discover you're the last one to know what's in your own mouth.
This past summer, my 20th high school reunion came and went. I'm certain no one missed my skinny butt on that float in the 4th of July parade. Let's be honest. The only reason I wanted to go back was to say Na Na Na Na Boo Boo in the faces of all the jerks who snubbed me because I wasn't a cheerleader or a blonde. Furthermore, I didn't have blue eyes, a rich daddy, or long legs.
Oh, sure, I was smart, artistic, never wore braces, and had the latest fashions (argyle socks and kilts complete with giant diaper pin) but it didn't matter. That just kept me from being shoved in a locker or ending up out in the chain link pen with all the “Burnouts.” I was smart enough to know that if the smoking didn't kill me, my father would when he found out what I was doing.
Frankly, it would have been a great waste of time and money had I traveled to the reunion. What I really need to attend, if they ever start having them, is an elementary school reunion and a middle school reunion.
Between my home town paper and my mother's continuing connections, I know I'd show up with a better marriage, better kids, and far smaller butt than most of those former bullies. I'd take my daughter with me too. She has a great brain, blonde hair, blue eyes, and long legs. She has zero interest in cheerleading but can confidently guide a four-legged thousand pound beast through a dressage ring, then accept her ribbons with grace, humility, and oh, yes, a smile. Braces and all.
Karen Rinehart is a magazine humor columnist, public speaker and the creator of The Bus Stop Mommies, a newspaper. She is also author of Invisible Underwear, Bus Stop Mommies and Other Things True To Life. You can read more of her work at karenrinehart.net. Karen lives in Concord, North Carolina with her two kids, one husband and goofball dog, where they attend St. James Catholic Church. (Well, they leave the dog at home.) She enjoys hearing from readers across the States and as far away as Australia, Japan and England.
