On a Not So Special Day…

In October of 2000, I remember going to Eastland Cemetery in Eastland, TX…I found my way to the woman whose suicide I blamed myself for many years…She wasn’t famous.  No one heard of her except the locals who knew of her tirades.  Her name was Judy.  She was my stepmother.  For about 3.5 years, I endured much at her hands but it was on this day that I came to one stark realization.  She could not help her mental illness.  In the last two weeks of her life, she thought she was four years old, and that I was her mother.

For years after her death, I kept asking, what if I had done this? What if I had done that.  The fact of the matter is that it does not matter, especially now. There are two things nobody has control over besides life and death and those things are the past and future. Neither can be changed. However I spent much of my 20’s trying to run from the memories of what went on in my home during the time she was with us. It was rather violent. I got shoved into walls, cabinets, picked up and thrown into one once–and those times were on the days when she wasn’t too pissed off and went off on EVERYONE.

Do I hate her? No.  Do the memories of a pistol getting pointed at my head still haunt me? Yes. That is probably why I never owned a gun. However times change and I do often think about obtaining one now. Please, if you’re into gun control, don’t preach at me. My family hunted for decades and before that my ancestors did also.  Not everyone who owns a gun is a nut-case.

Anyway back to my point.  There is only one thing that enabled me to get beyond the shadows of the past  when it came to her and that was to make this particular trip, on this not so special day to her grave.  It was in the 60’s and the sun was out.  And I stood here for a long time pondering what I would say if she were to stand next to me. It was then I said something very close to this:

This is my stepmother’s grave. My father was buried elsewhere

 

“It has been many years now. I have done some digging and now I can understand why you were so tormented over several things. Losing your own children and losing two sisters prior took a toll on you. I understand now, Judy. I understand the hell you went through at home as a child too. I forgive you.  I actually forgave you a long time ago but I had to come here to say it. I hope that you are at peace and that you are no longer suffering. I would wish what you endured on nobody now that I have put it together.”

Her suicide took a devastating toll on my emotions all the way through high school and beyond. I buried myself in my writing and my school work. I almost ended up getting into cutting but one of the counselors saw my journal and encouraged me to channel my energy elsewhere.  That was when I picked up a pen.

The chilling remarks when I came back to school after her death were the most cutting. Some new kid asked why anyone would shoot themselves.  My teacher in that class was a coach everyone got pissed at every day it seemed.  As I sat there he said, “I don’t know but women usually don’t go around shooting themselves because they are afraid to mess up their looks.”

I was livid. There is no way he didn’t know about her suicide being that he worked part-time for DPS.  I got up and bolted out of the room.  I stayed home for a couple of days and was in a different class after that. My dad made sure of it.  Even in her death the bullying and idiotic behavior of some of the other students continued as well. I never forgot that either. To them it was all a joke.  Well I hope they enjoyed their years at school afterward, because much of their entertainment came at the expense of others who were broken. This is why I don’t attend class reunions either–along with many others who opt not to show.

It is actually them I feel sad for. Even in adulthood they do not have a clue as to the scars they inflicted with their actions and words, yet most have suffered their own tragedies and seem to forget their past actions.  Ironically, I forgive them too. Some will have much to answer for one day. Until then, I will live my life and continue to work to get questions answered. For Judy, it’s the least I can do. She deserved better than what life dealt her.

 

Remembering the Monster (Part II)

It is  funny how when a child goes through abuse in the home, they feel that they did something wrong, or they said something to piss the abusive parent off.  However sometimes the abuser reveals the real reason for singling out the child. It is a lesson I know very well because it was taught to my abuser as well.

I am referring to my late stepmother.  As cruel as she was and as evil as she could be, I learned some lessons about her that did enable me to forgive what she did.  Does that mean that from time to time the shadows don’t try to creep up and remind me through nightmares and such? Absolutely not.

I remember well how I slept with the lights on after she killed herself with that same pistol she waived at my head–and sometimes she went further–she would actually put the barrel to my head, and I can remember how cold it felt to this day.  Often she revealed my existence as her reasoning behind her resentment of my presence in the family. The bottom line is, I stood up to her once I got older.

I find it also funny that when growing up, one thinks this is actually normal crap to deal with day after day.  Once she took her own life, and the shock of her death subsided, along with my self-loathing thinking it was my fault she did it, I began to get around ‘normal families“…You know–the ones where both parents didn’t fight and they actually had meals together at the table like we did before my parents split?

However, back to my point…She would tell me things her mother said to her such as, “…I don’t want you and I never did!”   Then she told me a story about how her two step sisters died in a fire that she believed her stepfather started. I wasn’t sure what to make of this story until I read it myself, but she was adamant that her stepfather set the fire.

I had a horrible tendency to turn my anger inward during and after those years. I remember hearing those negative voices when my stepmother committed suicide–and they were very “loud”, if you know what I mean. I kept hearing, “You should have done this!” or “IF you had done X then Y wouldn’t have happened.”  The bottom line is that there was nothing I did to cause it being that I was only around 14 and nothing could change it.  I had to work my way through that process of grief and self-loathing.

My dad was a total basket case, so I had to help arrange the funeral and pick the casket, as well as the dress to bury her in. THAT was the hardest part of that whole thing–having to help arrange it at 14. I am glad my sister and sister-in-law were around to help keep my head on track, and they did help me to handle this.  To this day I have an aversion to going into funeral homes even though I make myself do it. All it takes is the smell of the flowers or the sight of a black suit to send me straight back to 1978. I don’t know why but that triggers those memories in a huge way. I find it ironic that I knew more about her childhood–her parents names and such than my father did. I also knew that she had three sons taken from her in Red Bluff, CA in the 1970’s so if anyone is looking to find her, then contact me via email.

I struggled with trying to find reasons for what happened, and trying to make “sense” of it, but there is no “sense” when it comes to something like that or any unexpected loss, I think. There was also that voice that kept saying, “What if I had done ____ differently? Would it change a thing?”  I didn’t have a sounding board to take my frustrations out on so I turned to pen and paper, which was all I had at the time–aside from an imagination that when my pen flowed freely, the counselors became concerned.  I also struggled with the fact that there came a day when I fully realized that what went on in our household was NOT normal by any stretch of the imagination.

Then came the day I had to forgive her and then myself.  I realized that I both loved her and hated what she did, but realizing that she was not in control of her actions enabled me to forgive her and begin to rebuild from another starting point. I also had to forgive a few others in this process. When I say I had to “rebuild from another starting point” I am referring to the fact that after any traumatic event we can never fully be the person we once were.  We have to debrief ourselves a bit and then start reprogramming from that point, I think.

Living with her mental illnesses was one thing, but her behaviors also taught me how “NOT” to be a stepmother.  It also turned me off of the idea of internet dating and such because she WAS a mail order bride.  Anyone can put on any image they want to present themselves to be, but you never know what they are until you are with them.

I choose to play it “safe” and avoid that trap, hence the reason I don’t connect with anyone to go out with from the internet.  I have my friends I hang out with.  If I go out with anyone it will be with NO ONE that I meet on the web.

Does this mean I am lonely? No. I am alone but I don’t get lonely.  I have things to do and places to go and since I spent half of my life married, I’m in no rush. I am certainly NOT desperate either. Being single does not mean that my life is broken.

Now I want to say something else here.  I read Cinderella as a  child…I watched the version of it with Lesley Ann Warren and loved it.  As I got older, as in my late teens, I began to realize how much truth in  “Fairy Tales” really existed.  Her friends were mice–AT LEAST in the Disney version. My friend was a mouse named Brutus. There is also truth in the fiction between us all.  My fiction was that I was a princess or an angel in waiting…When I grew up, I realized that I am a statistic…A number…One of the many who fell through the cracks, but made my own way back out of them.

In fact, I think the song “Luka” fits more accurately–even though I’m not a boy.  After all, Suzanne Vega was right…She only hit until I cried. I sure as hell didn’t ask why when she went on these rampages either.

Many of these fairy tales were written with happy endings, but in life, would they have been happy? We may never know.   Look at “Sleeping Beauty“…The queen was pissed because she wasn’t invited to the Christening.  The only thing that woke Aurora’s ass up was her true love’s kiss.  What rubbish.  All of these fairy tales have the sabotage of the memes we were taught running rampantly through them.  The main theme being “Good prevails over evil”….Does it?   Or, do we simply hope for the best, block out the worst and drive on hoping the next day will be better than the one before?

Either way I drew more inspiration for my writing from “Dark Shadows” than I ever would any of these “fairy tales”.  I also drew from a movie called “Paperhouse” and ‘another one called “Spirit of the Beehive“. Perhaps it is because in the eyes of the child I once was, Barnabas (from “Dark Shadows”) could not help what he was and that enabled me to empathize with his fictional pain.  In my opinion, he was bullied too.

The Escalation of School Bullying and Expanding the PREA to Stem the Tide…

Before I begin I am putting a link up here so that readers can see what the PREA is and what it does:   http://nicic.gov/prea

I want to begin  by saying that this act was put into place due to the suicides of offenders in the penal system because their pleas for help after being assaulted and/or raped were largely ignored.  In Texas, one high-ranking administrator was fired after an offender tried to report an incident to him said, “Well, nobody told you to come to prison.”   The young man had written detailed letters home to his family about the violence he endured and the last letter written detailed why he was killing himself.

Now let me tell you how the PREA is used to prevent suicides:

1.  When an assault (whether rape is involved or not), an offender is placed in protective custody and an investigation ensues. Often the offender will not talk about it for fear of retaliation regardless of housing.  News travels faster in prison than it does on a television network. Often offenders know when some riot is about to kick off LONG before anyone else does–on units OTHER than their own.

2.  Once in protective custody, the offender is offered counseling, alternative housing, and in extreme cases, unit to unit transfer. Some of these are offender “trade-offs” where two offenders can be switched out in different states to complete sentences.

3.  When an offender is suicidal, he/she is IMMEDIATELY taken into protective custody and placed in a cell with a suicide blanket only.  Nothing the offender can harm himself/herself with is placed in that cell.   Within 24-48 hours on most units, the offender is then sent to a hospital equipped with psychiatric facilities.  Not all offenders who threaten suicide have been raped or sexually assaulted. Many are bullied for commissary items, money, etc…They are given the same protections as an offender who is a sexual offender when this gets reported.

4.  It provides stiff penalties for staff members who either fail to report such incidents listed above, within 2 hours of the incident becoming known, OR face any number of disciplinary consequences.  It also provides that officers MUST count LIVING, BREATHING bodies–even at night when doing cell counts.  If someone looks like they are asleep, they must wake them–PERIOD.  If an offender is found dead on the next shift, the autopsy will reveal how long he/she was deceased and there is no excuse for failing to attempt waking an offender during count time at night.  They must also make sure that the OFFENDER is in the cell and hasn’t escaped by waking them up as well. Yes, offenders do stuff pillows and mattresses in their bunk and  try to break out.

Now let’s see how this can be applied to the school systems in this country, given the fact that many students now come from families with members who are locked up and/or are part of a gang affiliation.  In fact, children’s visits to a prison should be very limited. I would say no more than once a month for a child visitor.  There are too many sexual predators running around. Families would raise hell at first, but it is not the correctional officer’s job to baby-sit.

As far as school districts go, the barriers that prevent law enforcement from prosecuting these bullying cases need to be removed. Here is how this can be done while expanding the PREA to the public education system.

1.  With the growing number of children of gang affiliated families on campus, the school officials need to be aware of who these students are AND if they are involved in gang activity.  To that end, law enforcement officials, child protective services and the districts need to work together to reduce the impact such families have in the education system if they are known to be involved in illegal activities.   A true zero tolerance policy should always include automatic suspension and/or expulsion of students engaging in gang activity and/or illegal activity on campus.  In short, if they can face free world charges for what they pull at school, then the school district should be REQUIRED to report the activities within 2-4 hours of the details becoming known–unless it can endanger students and teachers–then it should be REQUIRED to bring in the authorities.

2.  If a student is suicidal or is suspected to be suffering from depression due to being bullied–either at school and/or online, the district should be required to immediately get these students to the school counselors so that they can make appropriate referrals to mental health services.  Parents should be notified IMMEDIATELY if this is the case–in a letter and/or in person via a conference.

3.  If a student is known to have been bullied, it is the bullies that should be punished and NEVER, EVER, EVER  the victim.  If the incident involves a sexual assault, then offer the victim a campus to campus transfer option–even if it means the student will go to school in another district.  Make the bullies be put in different schools rather than their target(s) when possible.  By breaking the social unit of these bullies up, the chances of the student being bullied again go down slightly.  Those who commit violent acts on campus should get an automatic jail sentence AFTER the time spent in juvenile facilities if applicable.

4.   Eliminate lunch detention (especially if not held in a classroom rather than the cafeteria) and mass movement at lunch.  Why?  To many gang kids, lunch detention is a badge of honor–much like when an offender gets sent to medium to high custody is.  They will continue to socialize anyway, throw gang signs and act up at lunch, so it does no good.  This is behavior mimicked in prisons too. The problem with mass movement is that things can get out of hand there too.  At the elementary level, have carts with DISPOSABLE trays and utensils  taken to the classrooms.  Using disposable trays will cut costs of excessive water usage.  After they finish eating, let them go to “reading circle” or go to the playground a bit if weather permits.  This will cut some of the garbage that goes on during movement–because it will be almost ELIMINATED.  To enforce a good lunch detention (if a district MUST have that) a separate classroom with cubicles needs to be used for this.

5.  At the upper grade levels (8-12) close campuses for lunch. That way stuff isn’t being brought in as much for them to “sell” and trade.

6.  Go to uniforms!!!! This is important!  That way gang students have a harder time locating each other. Crime rates on campuses with this policy in place have seen crime rates drop by as much as 85% in some districts!   This isn’t about a students’ rights or respecting individuals’ rights–it is about protecting others in a system that is greatly flawed. No wonder teachers burn out within 5 years in many states…

7.  Give teachers the authority to take the classroom back. Have them trained in self-defense if they want and/or make PMAB training mandatory so that they can restrain students who are out of control.  This training is used to teach others how to properly restrain people who are out of control so that they don’t get hurt and it does come in handy for students who are prone to getting out of control.

No solution is perfect but it has to begin somewhere and to me, that place lies within the PREA.  The links below are to other articles related to this issue.  Not all of them involve school bullying, but all the bullying in society needs to be brought to a halt! Many of these were reported on other networks as well.  Thank you for your time.

Related articles

• Bullying leaves lasting marks on victims, witnesses (utsandiego.com)
• Lindhurst student takes stand against bullying (appeal-democrat.com)
• Virginia bill tackles bullying for students, teachers (wtvr.com)
• Shocking News: Bullying on the Aging Population (belmarrahealth.com)
• Father of suicide victim speaks at anti-bullying assembly (fox13now.com)
• Judge dismisses Mentor HS bullying suit (newsnet5.com)
• OK school says ‘zero tolerance’ for bullying after teen shoots self in bathroom (rawstory.com)
• Why Bullying Needs to Stop (lorensworld.com)

I Once Again Felt a Chill Down My Spine Today…

This is not going to be a long post, but most of you know the story of my stepmother Judy.  Granted the poor woman was mentally ill, but I didn’t understand that during the time I went through hell with her waiving a gun at my head, throwing me up into the walls and such from the time I was 11 and a few other things that went on which I do not care to discuss.

However today, I saw a story that sent chills down my spine because I realize I could have been among this number.   I realize how fortunate I am that I was not.  For three years I lived in a prison from which there was no escape for a little over three years and those three years shaped my destiny.  How I kept my sanity is beyond me.  I don’t consider myself broken, damaged and such–but there are times I wake up in a cold sweat even 33 years after the fact.

Oddly enough Judy, my stepmother,  died on 9/12/1978.  I am always down on 9/11 for obvious reasons, but this anniversary is one I don’t know whether to feel grief, relief or both depending on the memories that come back.  I wish she could have gotten help for her illness and there are some things I wish had been handled a lot differently.  However, it was not meant to be.  For some reason, I am alive and many others were not so lucky.  Many nights that .22 was waived at my head and I was threatened but I always put myself mentally elsewhere.  Other children did not make it out of their hells and their cells as I did mine.

I saw a story tonight that made me cry.  The violence of it and the horrible things that this  little girl had to see and hear make  my stepmother’s abusive behavior seem like a trip to Disneyland.   I realized tonight that I didn’t endure crap half as bad as this famous little girl did.  Back in the days when this happened,  there was not much Child Protective Services could do if the children wouldn’t talk.  It was true at the time of my stepmother’s death and it was true at the time of the death of a little girl named Judith Eva Barsi (June 1978-July 1988).

Judith (Judy–as some called her) was an actress on her way to stardom.  Despite the hell she endured at home, she always looked happy and cheerful…I call that the greatest mask because I too was able to wear it.  At times I could go to school beaming as if everything was as fine as it would be in a Brady Bunch or Ozzie and Harriet household.   However some of my teachers saw right through it.  Did anyone besides the psychologist and immediate family see through Judy Barsi’s?

Why did CPS just speak to the mother and not interview the child alone?  If they did would it have mattered?  Most likely not.  I find it ironic that a movie was not made about this because the headlines were almost too many to count from what I am reading tonight. On top of that, after 45 days or so, the judge tended to put the kids right back into the hell they were taken out of for the sake of “keeping the family together”.  To me that is a load of pure crap in extreme cases.  First time, take their rights and place the kid(s) elsewhere.  That is what I feel should be done  and ONLY in EXTREME cases–and to me this was pretty extreme.

If you don’t believe me look at the case of the Jahnke kids.  Remember?  The ones that shot their dad who was VERY abusive to them?  I remember it, too.  They should have been fully pardoned when it came out what they endured at this hands.  Sorry if you don’t agree but these were kids–like me but they were a bit older when their incident took place.  They did make movies about this incident, but I am not going to go into it here…They are out of prison and living quiet lives and I wish them peace and a full life.

Ironically, I could have fallen into either category–Judith Barsi’s or that of the Jahnke kids.  I don’t know what stopped me to this day from pulling the trigger on my stepmother the night I had the opportunity to, but something did.  On the other hand, I don’t know what the hell kept her from blowing my brains out.  Does that make me sick or abnormal?  I don’t think so.  There is a big difference in fantasizing about killing the bully and actually carrying out the thought.  I could never do it. Even now I know I could NOT do it.  That is the difference between yesterday’s kid and today’s kid I guess.  We had Columbine for a wake up call, right?   Now if someone tries to harm one of my sons, that is a whole new ball game.

Aside from that there is something that people need to remember.   Kids basically had very few rights then, but someone has to be their voice.  Someone has to step in and take action when nobody else can or will.  My hat goes off to every social worker who has ever had to risk his or her life to remove a child from a parent like Jozsef Barsi or from a parent like my stepmother.  I salute every policeman/woman , firefighter and teacher who has ever stepped in to help in such a situation–and many HAVE done so. Many a teacher helped me as best as they could during my time of hell.  Day after day, these brave people go in to face the unknown, and just like those less fortunate children that they are trying to protect, they might not make it home again.

As 9/12 approaches for me, I am grateful for all of these heroes–as well as the ones who will be remembered the day prior.  We should never, ever take life for granted.  We are all here for a reason and now I know this.  Someday, maybe I’ll finish the book on it, but there are days that I simply cannot write in it.  I still cry.  I still struggle with whether or not to take that pen that I have created so many imaginary heroes and heroines with in their worlds and paint the reality of my world  for all to see.  Besides that, “Precious” was already out there to try to wake people up as well…I wonder if I am the only writer that goes through this type of stuff.  I know to this day, I cannot watch “Precious”.  Sorry but it is  painful for me for other reasons.  My niece warned me about it so I can’t watch it.  If they make one about this case, I will not be able to watch it either.

Anyway, I feel that Judith Barsi is the long-lost poster child for the reality of what child abuse is.  Her own father killed her and then killed her mother as well.  Some say the song “Concrete Angel” by Martina McBride may have been written about her.  I choose to honor her life here. I chose the video below because it uses a song that brings hope and not tears.  She should be remembered with a smile for the sunshine she brought to so many.  Her life was cut short way too soon, and I do not feel that she should ever be forgotten.  If you know of a child going through hell, please, by all means pick up the bloody phone. You may be saving a life.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H-q947Iyy3c&feature=related

Touchy Topic…True Story…Food for Thought…When Educators are the Bullies…

It was 1978…I was a kid who was going through hell at home.  I was abused…I won’t go into every little detail, but my stepmother’s favorite mode of discipline when I was a child was to pick me up and throw me into a cabinet or up against the wall–if she wasn’t waiving a gun at my head…While my classmates enjoyed slumber parties, discovered the opposite sex and enjoyed some normal teen-aged fun–I spent my days and many nights hiding in my room and watching old movies or reading books–even after Judy’s death.

Some of what I write is through a character called “Kit”.  She’s merely a facsimile of what I might have been, or am depending on any given day of the week.  While my father turned more to his alcohol, and other family members only sought an escape, I followed suit and my pen became my weapon against all evil entities foreign and domestic.  I killed off more characters who did horrible things than Dexter–most likely, so I guess you could say I was a “serial slasher with a pen”.  It is through these writings that I ended up in a counselor’s office at the age of 15.  They really thought that rather than the escape vehicle my writing was, that I was actually planning to harm myself for some strange reason.  I think it had more to do with the fact that my stepmother killed herself and my writing became darker with each passing moment.

However this is about a Monday morning in September when I came back to school after her having been buried a few days prior.  The whole town knew that she shot herself.  I was sleeping with the lights on, still not believing that my chief abuser/warden was gone.  It was worsened by the fact that my father left me to my own devices for the most part.  The alcohol became the next woman in his life for some time. Before I get into this, I just want to say that in the present, if a teacher does this, he or she can lose their license for it.  I found out today that I was vindicated when I found out through a classmate that the teacher who was so cruel (a coach) was fired on the football field not too long after this incident.

I remember walking through the halls that Monday morning…Even some of the kids that picked on me were nice to me.  “I am sorry, Tina.” they’d say.  Or “If you need anything, my mother said you can come to our house.” etc..Everything seemed okay.  I avoided writing in my journal and the teacher, Mrs. Eaves was okay with that.  She understood that I just wanted to read that day.  I remember what I was reading too…I was reading “Silas Marner“…George Eliot–not my usual Edgar Allen Poe or Samuel Beckett fare.  I dreaded going to Biology class because HE was going to be there.  This teacher was a pure asshole.  He singled students out daily and humiliated them.  He picked on the ones that had long hair.  We felt more like marine recruits than students in his charge.  This incident would be the first nail in the coffin for him.

I walked into the room and sat at the desk where I usually went in the back of the room…He always gave me bullshit before–along with a few other students, but this was not the day he wanted to do that–only he didn’t realize that yet.  Somehow, one of the new kids (who truly didn’t realize who I am) asked about suicide and why people do that.  I was livid.  This is not what I wanted to hear at all.  Somehow that student got to ask why women do that when the coach commented, “Women don’t usually go around shooting themselves because they don’t want to mess up their looks.”  The class became quiet and those who knew me turned and look back at me.  I stood up.  I heard one of my classmates say “Holy shit! He’ll kill her…”

“O’Neill what do you think you’re doing?  Sit back down.” he said to me.

“Go to hell.” I said as I headed for the door.  I left my books and everything on the desk.  He tried to grab my arm and was yelling something, but for the first time, I pulled away and ran–not walked–RAN to the office.  I slammed the door behind me and they instantly  knew something was wrong.  I wasn’t crying either. I wanted to, for the first time, really bitch slap that man.  I was seething with rage. The principal called me into the office and he and the counselor calmed me down.  They called my Dad.  Once I calmed down they asked me what happened.  “I will never go back to that class.” I told them.  They asked why.  I told him everything that this coach had said.  They had my books brought to the office.  When my dad showed up, they had him take me home and told him that I could stay home for a few days with no penalty while they straightened things out.

They talked to my dad for a long time after I went back into the waiting area and sat down.  I remember Dad saying something like, “You should have reported him a long time ago for talking to you kids like that.  He has no right.”  All I said was, “He is the teacher and isn’t he ALWAYS right?”   “No. He isn’t. And you’re going into a different class next week but I’m keeping you home for a few more days.” he told me.  I went into my room, closed my door and THEN cried a bit.  I didn’t want to let anyone see me like that–devastated…

I went back to school that Friday.  They had that coach in the office.  “Tina, I’m sorry.  I had been out-of-town for a week and I really didn’t know what happened.”  My response, “You’re a liar.  You are mean to us all every day and you treat us like crap.  Everyone in town knew so you can’t tell me you never got a phone call or a note in your box. I’m not stupid.  That was the last straw and if they put me back in your class, I’m dropping out.”  He then said, “Tina I really am sorry.  I really didn’t know–”  I said something like  “Take it up with God.  Maybe he’ll believe it but not me. I’m not God.”

Nobody said anything after he went back to his classroom, but I was quickly put into a different class.  Another teacher told me she really understood how I felt, but he really wasn’t told about it.   That just told me someone dropped the ball.   He got fired on the football field as well later on.  Evidently he never learned anything from what he did to me.  The remark about suicide wasn’t the first time he picked on any of us.  Any of us could have fit into “The Breakfast Club“.  I was the Ally Sheedy character…Jimmy was the Judd Nelson character…I could go on…If he wasn’t picking on someone for their weight, it was their hair…If it wasn’t how they dressed, it was how they spoke or read…In short, this guy was a pure asshole.

All I want to point out here is that if a teacher bullies a student or group of students, there should be no “probation”.  This is abuse and they should immediately lose their license for it the first time they are caught doing it.  This stuff still goes on…I’ve seen teachers tell other students, “Don’t say something to (Insert a student name here) because he/she will run back and tell Mommy and we’ll all get into trouble~!” AFTER said teacher had been verbally abusing other students and gotten reported for it several times so where does the “we” come into it?  I’ll tell you.  That teacher is trying to gain a following–just like gang leaders and wannabes in prison do.  I saw this behavior first hand when working in corrections.  This is what offenders do to incite others to be cruel to offenders that will not fall into their game or do as they want.  Kids have been bullied at school as a result of the manipulation by these educators–especially if the teacher in question “rewards” those who “support” him or her with free time or something…Seriously!

Schools should not be prisons and teachers should not be teaching students how to be “offenders” in a correctional setting.  Teachers who engage in this type of behavior are as low as some of the people I had to deal with as a correctional sergeant and not all of them were offenders either.  Thank you.  I’ve gotten that off of my chest.  If you know of a teacher who does this, report it.  If you are a teacher and you witness this–don’t be afraid to do the right thing because ignoring it makes you party to it.  There shouldn’t be a “code of silence” when kids are suffering at the hands of such incompetent educators.  And as for administrators that back these abusers up rather than do their job, fire them on the spot right along with teacher that overstepped his/her bounds.

 

 

The Kid who WANTS to stay after school…

This is going to sound harsh, but when a kid wants to stay after school, volunteering to take trash for every teacher in the building, cleaning erasers (for those that still have blackboards), arranging books, etc…Let him or her do it–but make sure that if that kid is acting as if scared to go home–don’t drill the kid with a million and one questions.  Let your school counselor handle that or the principal because you do NOT want that monkey on your back.  You can make an anonymous phone call if you like, especially if the student seems to be afraid to go home, but whatever you do, let that kid have the sanctuary even if just for a half hour while you go to another room to do something else after you’ve locked down your computer or whatever.

If the kid starts hanging out with the maintenance people instead of going home, have the counselor or principal talk to the child.  Sometimes it is true that there is something going on at home that needs to be dealt with, and other times the kid has other stuff going on inside of his or her head that he or she may need help for, but is too afraid to tell Mom or Dad.

Why am I advising this?  I was such a child.  Back in the days I did that, my teachers were powerless except for two items:  Detention hall and tutoring.  If I couldn’t stay after of my volition; they KNEW I was acting up to get a  one hour detention hall.  I don’t know HOW they knew but they did.   My school was my sanctuary.  It was a refuge.  I would stay as late as 5 p.m. and a teacher always either gave me a ride to my grandmother’s house or followed to make sure I got there alright if I wanted to walk slowly. 

They always knew when I walked in with dark circles under my eyes that something wasn’t right at home.  If I fell asleep, they knew I had a very bad night, but I wouldn’t show the marks or even talk about the prison cell I called my home.  I never knew what to expect when I walked in.  Sometimes my stepmother, Judy, would be normal and lucid.  At other times, she would pick me up and throw me across the room.  One time she threw me into a wall, and another time into the kitchen counter for being late.  I never said a word about this–not even to my sister or my mother.

I would go into my room and stay there for the most part, being careful to try to avoid her.  One night a teacher called and told her I had to stay after school for extra tutoring because I was having trouble in math class.  Ten minutes later the science teacher called also.   They never knew it but I got a belt taken to me by her and told if my grades weren’t up to her standards in two weeks, I’d get worse.  My dad wasn’t home and she said if I told him or anyone else, she’d “take care of me real quick”.  Having been around her long enough to deal with her crap, I knew what she meant.  There were many times she pointed a gun at my head.  I never talked about it–even after she committed suicide  with that gun.

My response to her threat was to not bring my grades up.  I deliberately made sure of it.  That way I could be away from her for longer.  After that, she tried to say I was “retarded” and all kinds of crap to the point that she and my dad were fighting each other.  I’d go hide out on top of the garage roof until 1 or 2 in the morning to avoid the bull.  They day she shot herself was the day my dad kicked her out of the house.  I didn’t believe that she was dead when they pulled me out of class and broke the news to me either. 

There were many nights after the funeral I would have nightmares about her coming after me in zombie form–.22 in hand.  I woke up in cold sweats more than once.  I often slept with a butcher knife under my pillow and NOT a soul knew about that either. It was one thing to tolerate the bullies and the idiots I had to deal with day after day,  but when I had to go home to my own little piece of hell, that was another story.  I often would snap and just disengage from life.  My escape was through writing and through reading books.  I also watched old movies. If I really wanted to block out the world, I put on a set of headphones and rocked out full blast to whatever struck my fancy when–which could be anything from ABBA to ZZ TOP and all things in between depending on how old I was. 

One would think that after going through something like this that I would have ventured out and became more outgoing, but I didn’t.  I preferred to live in my cocoon that I built for myself.  I didn’t feel safe at school due to some bullying–but it got taken care of.  However, I still didn’t trust my peers. I rarely went out.  When I went to prom in my Junior year, some people were surprised.  When I showed up for the Senior prom, it shocked the school, I think.  I was even in my Senior play and did well in UIL journalism and such.  I made myself do all that–and take the class trip…I also made myself stay in Band my last 3 years of school.  It got me away from her.  Ironically,  I was still acting like this 18 months after she died.  I don’t know why to this day.  I did my occasional sneaking off to shop after I got paid or whatever–but I went alone.  I preferred it. 

The bottom line is I felt that maybe in her madness, she was correct when she said things like, “You can’t have friends” or “You aren’t pretty enough to be with anyone when you get older so you might as well join the Air Force”–and worse…I won’t repeat the horrible stuff she said.  Being that the bullies at school tended to get to me, I’m surprised I didn’t go off.  Then I got invited to a friend’s house for dinner one night about a year before her death.  My dad pissed her off and let me go.  This was different.  These people didn’t yell at each other or anything.  If someone dropped something, it was okay–they didn’t get hit.

About  six  years ago I totally freaked out because I accidentally broke an antique mixing bowl that belonged to my paternal grandmother when I dropped something on it–I didn’t drop the bowl itself.  My sister said, “It’s okay, Tina.  It’s just a bowl.”  “But it was Grannie‘s.” was what I said.  She just kept saying it was okay over and over.  She even came over and held me as I was crying at one point.  What she didn’t realize was that this triggered another memory I blocked out.  I got thrown across the kitchen and into a wall when I accidentally broke Judy’s favorite bowl while washing dishes. 

Anyway, years later I began to open up about it.  That was when I realized I wasn’t the “bad” kid or the “crazy nerd kid”.  Some of my favorite teachers told me point-blank that they knew something was wrong at home and they asked me how I was able to deal with it.  I shocked them.  I told them the first thing I had to do.  I had to forgive Judy.  I had come to the realization that she was mentally ill.  I finally understood the issues that were going on after talking at length with my sister about it.  The second thing I had to do was accept that I am not to blame for the actions she took.  I was a child. 

Now I want to give you some food for thought.  I was that kid that had caring teachers who took time for me when they didn’t have to.  I wanted to give back.  I still don’t think I can ever give back enough, but I can attest to this much–kids who were bullied back then often fantasized about making bullies “disappear” or wishing them “into the cornfield” and there isn’t a person alive that doesn’t know what that means.  Those of us who were bullied often wondered what it would have been like if we could be rid of the bullies for one day–or better yet–for life.  We actually talked about it.  Again I ask that same question from my bullying blogs, “What made it okay for a person to ever cross that line and actually act out on their fantasies?”

How many more Columbines will it take? Jonesboros? How many more suicides?  Can anyone answer that?  We’ve had more recent shootings also.  Even when you have caring teachers who do take time as mine did, why would the kids put them in the line of fire?  Has anyone ever asked these things?  I think we should.   Some of the ones who bullied me are totally different people today.  One would never know how cruel they were in high school, and they often choose not to remember the hurt they inflicted.  I have had classmates that I do not remember bullying me for the life of me contact me apologizing.  Maybe they were bystanders or something, but I honestly do not remember them bullying me and I told them so.  As far as I’m concerned, they’ve done nothing to me.

I will close with some questions:  Where does this bullying type of behavior begin?  Where do the kids learn it? At home? In the movies? WHAT?!  Have we really degraded our own society too much to the point that as parents we can’t fix this issue ourselves?  I would not mind getting the “right” answer for those questions, if they do exist. Is this going to be something we have to create penal codes for or should we just insert it into categories under the current penal code–such as assault, aggravated assault with a weapon, etc…?