Bullies.

I saw this article on CNN last night and it really bothered me: My bullied son's last day on Earth. I don't expect you to read it, but the gist is this 11-year-old boy hung himself after school one day because he couldn't put up with being bullied anymore.

This isn't to say that there wasn't something else wrong with him, or maybe I'm just a little naive in thinking that suicidal thoughts don't really start till you are a little older. But the whole thing is awful. It reminds me of why I'm so jaded about people sometimes. This fifth grade boy had to go to school everyday and deal with people calling him ugly and gay and a virgin. (I'll admit I thought things really changed in elementary school, because I would have figured most of the 5th graders would be virgins. However, leave it up to the elite group of children to look at a kid from the Virgin Islands and figure that would be a great thing to pick on.)

I got bullied daily growing up. In fact, if I was in class with this kid I probably would have drawn some fire away from him. I was that ugly kid. The chunky, nonathletic, fro'd-out, thick plastic-framed glasses outcast. Heh, and looking back I probably didn't even realize it to the full extent of what it was. Kids made fun of me in elementary school, but it wasn't too bad. Middle school was worse. I'd get pushed in the halls sometimes, people would laugh at me in gym class, ask me why my nose is so big or why I was so ugly. This one kid used to call me "queer boy". (Which I admit in 6th and 7th grade I had no idea what "queer" meant other than the original definition: odd or questionable. No, I didn't have a social life back then either, so I read a lot.) And once this kid even pulled a knife on me on the bus. Those 3 years were among the worst of my life.

There is one difference between that me and this kid though. I never told anybody. I suffered pretty much in silence, resorting to a complaint of "I hate my life" rather than going to my parents or a teacher or anything. This kid did. I can't imagine how crushed I would have been if I told my parents that I was being harassed in school and nothing changed. Or if it got worse. I don't know where this sense of safety for kids in school comes from. These people who study bullying and all that. Are they stupid? It happens all the time. And there isn't really anything they can do to stop it.

I'm glad that I wasn't suicidal in elementary school, or that I didn't even really think of it until after middle school. My heart breaks for this kid. To go home, walk to your room and hang yourself in a closet with your belt... How does a boy do that?

I hope those kids that made fun of him realize what kind of pain they caused him. I wonder if they feel guilty, or if they'll change how they treat others. Or are fifth graders so hard-core now that they can shrug this off and blame the kid for killing himself?

Why can't we all just be civil to each other? Who cares if we all LIKE each other? Just be nice!

I hope that boy can rest easy now. I hope wherever he is, he can finally smile and laugh and be a care-free 11-year-old boy.

Your next booklist

If you are looking for some light bed-time reading, may I suggest you consult this list:

10 Great Books For (Traumatizing) Children

I actually feel like I need to hunt these books down! I've read the titles in #2 by Edward Gorey and Hilaire Belloc and I actually loved them. (That's not to say I think childrens books about a Hiroshima or abusive parents would be awesome. But an alphabet book of death? How can you not find humor in that. (Plus, that was one of my first ever illustration assignments... Good times.)

Besidese, if you ask me, Jim deserved it for being a brat and running away. And Matilda!! Hahahaha. You should totally check her out.

Doing my part to combat school violence.

Enter middle school-aged boy and slightly older sister. The chap would like to check out some books and hands me a card barely held together by some scotch tape. He kind of sheepishly smiles and explains how he lost it, and a friend found it but proceeded to bend it as he shoved it in his pocket.

I chuckle at the little fellow, tell him to be more careful, and proceed to check out his material. That is when I start to overhear the conversation he's having with his sister.

"He told me to hit him back, but he wasn't there," he said.
"You should have hit him. What are you going to do?" she asked.
I missed most of the next part of it but it sounded like an uncle told him to hit this kid that apparently started with him first.

Enter yours truly.

"So, you know you really shouldn't be hitting people, right?" I ask the kid.
"Yeah..." he replies.
"I don't want to tell you to disobey your elders or anything, but you should never resort to physical violence. You should be the bigger person."
"I know," he tells me.

Now, your boy mikaroni doesn't know what to do. Because it really isn't any of his business. Plus, the last thing he needs is some crazy, jacked-out dude coming after him because he tried to talk his family out of getting into a fight.

So what do I do?

I offer a deal. Albeit a small one, and one that I sadly expect my little friend to break.

"I'll make you a deal," I tell him. "You promise me you won't hit that kid, and I'll give you a new library card for free." (After all, who doesn't want a free library card?)

He asks if I'm serious, and I assure him that I am. I even take the new card out and show it to him.

He finally agrees with an "OK."

"Promise?"

"Yeah."

Big sister finally chimes in with a "He asked you to promise, you have to say you promise." He actually does.

Haha, rock on kids. Maybe I didn't really make a difference, but I at least made him think. Even if it was just for a little bit.

Of course, the kid and his entire family owe wicked fines and I got into a bit of trouble later. But it was worth it. :)