It’s been three nights (well, now that I’m finally able to post this, it’s been 5 nights) since hubby called me to tell me that our 7 year old daughter had been bullied at school that day.
I’m still enraged.
I’m still upset.
I still hurt.
And I’m sure it’s because I haven’t said anything about it outside of me threatening some first grade boys and using some not so choice words.
Monday evenings, Buggy goes to RE (religious education) at church. I wasn’t in the mood to go with to take her, so hubby and Buddy took her while I stayed home.
It wasn’t but 10 minutes after they left home that I got a text message:
“We may have to talk to the principal. K says two boys *name* and *name* have been calling her fat and *teacher* is not doing anything.” (Names have been removed to protect those who may suffer later.)
My first initial response was that she didn’t say anything earlier.
I had picked her up from school that day.
I had done the homework routine with her that day.
Never. Not once did she say anything.
She didn’t act any different either.
I have stressed from day one that at no time is it acceptable for her to be mean or bully other kids at school and at no time is it acceptable for other kids to be mean or bully her. We have read books on it together. We have talked about it. She knows that it is not okay to be mean to others and she knows that if someone is being mean to her, that she needs to tell me, her dad, her aunt, her grandma or Papa, the teacher, the principal – any adult. Period.
Fortunately, hubby had Buggy call me so I could talk to her.
She informed me that two boys from her first grade class had called her fat and that when she told the teacher, they missed their recess.
Okay, good. I’m glad that the teacher had done something.
Yet, I’m still sitting her three nights later, near tears.
From birth until third grade-ish, I was always told I was too skinny and didn’t eat enough. In third or fourth grade, I started to get bigger. I wouldn’t say I was overweight, but I was above average for the normal child yet what I considered average for myself. (I wouldn’t say I was overweight until a few months after my daughter’s birth. That I’ll admit.)
I was teased quite a bit. I had low self esteem and was self conscious (still am!) I wasn’t skinny like the other girls in my grade. Fortunately for me, most of the boys that did tease me actually had crushes (my mom always said when a boy teases you it’s because they like you and don’t know how to show it and she was right. I actually dated one of them!)
But that didn’t excuse how they made me feel. How hurt I was. (Fortunately once you start dating one of them, he gets the others to back off and you can explain how they made you feel so the situation remedies itself.)
And in my case, I was older than first grade. I was in junior high and high school.
Buggy is a solid girl for her age. She stands as one of the tallest and is easily the biggest child in her class. She’s a solid girl. At 7 years old, she is wearing clothing that are sized 14-16. She is active. We don’t allow a lot of junk in our home (one juice at lunch during the week at school, but not at home; milk for breakfast and dinner; water all day; rarely any sweets; no soda). They don’t play video or computer games. She is just a big girl.
But that doesn’t mean someone or anyone has the right to call her fat or to make her feel like less of a person. No. One. Ever.
I’ve gone so far as to not allow her to go to pool party at her friends’ houses because I know she’ll be the biggest girl there. And it’s not because I think the kids will be mean purposely, but because the parents are who I worry about whispering and gossiping.
I mean seriously, what kind of parent can belittle a child and allow their own children to hurt another child that way? It baffles me that not enough parents care enough to teach their child right from wrong.
Fortunately for Buggy, she has a lot of people who love her and support her and we will protect her. Unfortunately for those who decide to bully or be mean, be warned, I will not allow it with my daughter or any other child because they are just that – children.