Bully Writing Contest
This school year, Madison is holding a series of writing contests. Each contest will be based upon a character trait that we discuss in our Focus classes. This past month we’ve been talking about respect and teaching students how to interrupt bullying. We hosted our first writing contest this past week. Students were asked to write a story, fiction or nonfiction, about a bully. The following students received awards:
1st place Emma L. ($25.00)
2nd place Megan E. ($15.00)
3rd place Raynie J. ($10.00)
The following entry is from student Sarah N. for the Bully Writing Contest:
Why Can’t We Be Friends?
Today, school would be starting. And not just any day of school, the first day of school. Most “normal” kids would be exited about this day, but not me. I wasn’t ” normal” to any one. No matter what I did, it never seemed to be right. I always seemed to dress wrong, talk wrong, be wrong. Most days, I would often ask, what did I ever do to be hated so much? I’ve gone to counsellors before, but they were of no help.
I walked into that school every day waiting for the worst to happen. I’ve never made it through one day without being taunted or teased. I squeezed my way through the crowd and into the cafeteria only to sit down at a table. Alone. I didn’t have any friends and the ones that I did have were chased away by rumors. I watched others laugh and play as tears rolled down my face. However, when I tried to say “hello” or “have a nice day”, I got the cold shoulder.
I would ask to be left alone, but they just ignored me. I was thrown around like trash and yelled at for no reason at all. I was treated like an old forgotten toy. All day. Every day. By the time that they were done, I’d have bruises going down my arms. Nothing I did seemed to make the stop. When I talked to a teacher about it,nothing changed. They were mean, cruel people. Although, often, I felt as if they were taking their hurt and pain in life and taking it out on me. When would the end of all of this come. Should I wait or take the easy way out?
Most kids would make the most obvious choice, the one that was simple. But I knew that if I did, I would hurt my loved ones. For now, I would tuff it up and go with the flow. But it sounded easier then it actually was. Each day it got worst and worst. The more terrorizing it got, the more I elides to keep to myself. To no longer try to be nice. So the real question was, what am I going to do about all this?
It was halfway through school and the teachers even seemed to hate me. There was nothing I could do about it. I would hope and pray that nothing would happen that day, but I guess I just have really bad luck.
Each year I was in school, each new grade, the older I got, the bigger the bullies would get. I would cower in the corner as the big, black, evil shadow towered over me, ready to attack. He would call me all sorts of names. Just like before, only worst. This time kids would crowd around yelling “fight, fight”, and he did. He was a college kid now and I was a kid about two years younger. He always thought he was so powerful. He always thought that he could hurt me as much as he wanted without getting in trouble. That is why he bullied me. To tell the truth, he never did get caught. He was considered “popular”. One of the “cool kids”. I never did anything to him, or anyone else. He just hurt me for the fun of it.
The eighth week of school and it happened again. I was dragged to a corner and beaten there. I went home with a black eye and bruises every where that night. I had cried myself to sleep each night because of it. My parents tried to conform me and that’s hen I exploded. I wound up telling them every thing. From the day in kindergarten to why I was coming home with bruises each night. I just exploded. Every thing I bottled up all those years. All the anger, sadness and happiness. Every hope that I thought I had lost, it all just came out. My parents had seen how bad it was now. They could see that I had literally gone through torture all these years. They wrapped me in a huge hug and told me every thing was going to be OK. That they would take care of it. Then they walked out of the room.
It was much easier to sleep since I told somebody about everything. I felt as though I could be a “normal” kid again. That for once, somebody took care of it all.
The very next day, I woke up to whispering voices outside of my bedroom. I looked at the alarm clock, surprised because it didn’t go off. 12.00 PM. 12.00 PM! That was way passed school time. I rushed out of the bed and threw some clothes on. As I ran down the stairs, I noticed my parents were downstairs waiting for me and some other lady that I didn’t know. They were all smiling at me awkwardly. Like they were under some crazy spell. Good morning? I said in a questionable voice. As soon as I said that, the lady, of which I now knew was my new counselor named Vicky, stood up and shook my hand violently. She told me all sorts of things, like why I wasn’t in school, or what the heck she was doing here at my house. Then she saw and understood that I was kind of freaked out about what she was saying and how she was acting. She explained calmly that she was here to help me with my bulling problem and that she specialized in that type of stuff. Then she told me to tell her every thing that I told my parents last night.
I still wasn’t sure if I could or not. Every time I did, I got terrible headaches because I would start crying like a mad woman. But instead of just sitting there, I took a deep breath in and out. Then I started telling Vicky every thing. When I was finally done, she just stared at me for a long moment. After like, two minutes she finally said something. She told me that I needed to do something called stop, walk and talk. She gave me an example of how to use this technique. Tell the bully to stop. If he or she continues, walk away from the situation and try your best to ignore the bully. Then, if they continue to bully you then talk to some one you can trust. Like a best friend or a teacher at school. After telling me this, she again, just sat there staring at me for five minutes. Then she looked at her clock and rushed out the door.
What the heck was that? I asked my mom. She looked t me calmly and told me, you sounded really upset and worked up about all this last night. Besides I did tell you your dad and I would take care of it. She was right. They did say that. I guess I just have to trust them more then usual. It was odd having someone help me though. It’s bee so long since I have had help, I’m just not used to it. I ran up the stairs again and climbed in the shower. Every thing was different now. But I wasn’t sure how it was different.
That day my mom let me go to school. Although I was late, I was weirdly exited about school, and when I got there, It was even stranger. The kids weren’t in there classes. I walked around the school for a little bit and noticed noise in the gym. When I walked in there, kids were clapping and shouting my name like I was some movie star or something. I looked up in every ones faces, and they even seemed happy I was there. But the Smart board explained every thing. It said in big pink letters, we’re here for you! I guess people were there for me all along. Some how my story got out. People do care.