When I was a kid, my family moved to a new neighborhood when I was six, at the end of first grade. I remember very little of how I got to school and whether the bullying started then, I'm not sure. But what I remember is the following school year, a few months after moving there, I started second grade. Riding the bus was how I got to school then. My Mom would walk us up, the mom's would drop us off, and then leave us all to wait for the bus. It was the mid-70s, so bigger kids rode with younger kids. Mom's were more trusting and we could even walk to the bus stop by ourselves being that young. So after the first few days of school of getting into the routine, we would be left alone to wait for the bus. 

So, when I would get there, these older girls would bully me. Maybe it was because I was young. Maybe it was because I was new to the neighborhood. I knew they lived on the other side of the creek, not in my regular part of the neighborhood. The creek divided the homes, like in much of the suburban area I lived. It was turning from a rural area into suburbs, with a large orchard still down the street that many of the other kids would play in sometimes. I was still learning the ups and downs of my new home, and these older girls, for some reason, had decided I was their target.

Each day, I wanted to go to school less and less. I didn't want to spend the time waiting for the bus, because I knew they'd be there, calling me names, making fun of my clothes. I talked back too. I defended myself at first. But this seemed to make it worse. I didn't stand for the insults, and sometimes I reacted by crying. That could have been it too. I reacted back. They could make me cry. They wanted to make me suffer more, probably giving them a sense of some kind of power. 

This went on for weeks. Maybe even for a month, almost two. I don't remember when I eventually told my mom, but I think she must have noticed how I didn't like going to school suddenly. I had always liked it. So, I told her what had been going on. 

She took to walking me up to the bus stop. And that helped some. But she also worked a part time job sometimes, and couldn't always do that. And once I got on the bus, I was fair game to be bullied while sitting and riding to school. So, it just continued on the ride on the bus.

Luckily, once I got there, the girls were on a different playground as upper graders. I tended to be safer in the lower grade playground. I took to hiding out in the field, under over grown bushes so I was harder to find. Once I got to school, I was safe. But getting there was the hard part.

My mother tried calling the school. She complained about the girls, name calling, making fun of me, and making me cry. The school responded by saying they could do nothing. It wasn't happening on school grounds. They couldn't do anything. Maybe that's why the girls avoided me at school too. Maybe they knew this as well. If they bullied me off campus, they could get away with it. At school, they'd get in trouble. 

One day after many tries to stop the bullying, I was waiting at the bus stop. The girls arrived. Sometimes they weren't always there waiting. They would show up later. I always would pray they wouldn't show up at all. 

They made fun of me again. I can't remember which or what was said. But they started in like usual. They started pushing me. I remember being pushed against the railing that bordered the creek. It was a 20 foot drop down. They could push me up against the bars and have me pinned there. 

So, the next day, I avoided being next to the railing. I stood with my back to the street. This time, they shoved me into the street. Not hard enough to be in front of cars, though there were ones that came. If they pushed hard enough, I'd end up in front of one of the cars. I think the bus arrived finally, saving me that day. I'd learned by now to not sit near them on the bus. I always took the back seat, or any seat, away from them. 

I told my Mom later about being pushed, and how there had been cars coming on the street at the time. It was a busy street that the bus stopped along. When she heard that she exclaimed, "I'm driving you to school for now on."

From that point on, from middle of second grade to end of Junior High, I was driven to school. Even when I was in Junior high or even before, because the girls must have left elementary school after a few years, I kept being driven by my mom. It had become our routine. It just seemed easier for us by then. Maybe it was my mom's way of never having me be bullied again. 

In a way, I learned from the whole experience. I learned what set those bullies off. It was the reactions. It was the avoidance of the bullies that worked most often with them. Of course, this isn't always the case in how to solve bullying. Every case of bullying is different. But it did shape how I deal with people and helped children later. I kept the feeling of being bullied, and of course, knew how it felt. 

So, when I became a teacher, I had both children bullied and doing the bullying in my class or on the playground. I knew how it felt to be bullied, and would have talks with both children. I'd tell the bullied child some techniques to deal with it. You can stand up to bullies, by giving them language that tells them it's not working. "Whatever" with the hand up, showing it wasn't affective. And then, walking away. Engaging directly only made the bullying continue. Of course, in depth bullying, was a little more complicated. But I would have meetings with the kids and have them talk it out if I could. Some of the basic bullying sometimes was misunderstandings between friends. 

I always kept what happened to me in the back of my mind. Sometimes I'd even share it with my class. I'd teach lessons at the beginning of the year on what bullying is. Because many kids think all conflict is bullying. Bullying is actually harassment over time...weeks, months. Name calling, making fun of someone. Often, teaching kids what these are and how to stop it is helpful. If the kid doing the bullying is likely having issues of their own, then maybe talking about it will help them as well. Bullying really stops if you can stop the bully. 

Do I forgive those girls? I'm not sure. I'm guessing there was some reason they wanted to bully me. They got a rise out of my reactions, crying or getting angry. Maybe it gave them a feeling of power and being in charge while in other parts of their lives, they didn't. But I've always seen that bullying is often a human response to something, and it can only be stopped by supporting and educating others. Educating the bully.

Talking to others about it bullying is important too. If I hadn't told my mom, I might have gotten hurt later. Though it was discouraging the school officials didn't help support us by giving the lame excuse it was happening at the bus stop and they could do nothing, bullying campaigns in the school might have helped. Whether it would have stopped the girls, I'm not sure. I think they had a mean streak for whatever reason. And who knows what became of them. I just know, I eventually became a teacher and now, a writer.

All I know, is I took my experience, and moved forward. My Mom and I found a solution together that made me safe. I also told my mom. That was important. Telling someone will help you at least get some support. Whether it's a teacher, counselor, or your parents. Tell someone it is going on. And a solution can be found. I've been there myself. I've been the teacher that was told. And I've either dealt with it directly, or if it was more serious, got school officials involved where needed. 

Maybe the best way to fight bullying is to let others know. Don't keep it a secret, because many times, I thought it was me. Something was wrong with me. And there wasn't. I reacted to them, which made them do it more. But in the end, I'm glad I told my mom. Because together, we found a way to move beyond the bullying situation. And maybe in the end, I won after all.