Does anyone care?

If you haven't heard, bullying and teen suicide has been in the news quite frequently lately, particularly when it pertains to LGBTQ youth. To combat this, my oh-so-proactive school aired a video during homeroom. Except for a very interesting and informative portion in the beginning, courtesy of CNN, it was awful. It was unrelatable, uninteresting, and quite frankly, looked like it had been produced by an eleven year old with Windows Movie Maker. Did I mention the audio wasn't synchronized?

Way to tackle big issues, ----------- High School.

Oh, and kudos on the irony--I thought it was particularly funny when Dr. Phil pointed out that schools aren't being proactive enough to fight bullying, in a video that was a blatant representation of a school not being proactive. Albeit, the video was aired as a way to stall (while the juniors attended an assembly about college) rather than to take a stand against bullying, so I didn't really expect much.

But honestly, I'm not all that angry with the quality of the video or the reasons behind airing it. I'm angry because people don't care.

I was literally the only person in my home room that watched the video. Out of forty people. They chattered about superficial things, munched on carrots, and played various games on computers and iPhones. Some people did homework, and the special needs boy in my homeroom tried to hit on several of the girls. Basically, they did anything they could possibly get away with while the (incredibly lax) teacher was in the room, except watch the video.

This was incredibly frustrating, because some of the people in my homeroom probably definitely needed to listen to what Dr. Phil and Crystal Bowersox had to say. A friend of mine also saw the humor in the clique of girls with identical blonde hair pass around a cell phone as a girl on the television screen talked about how girls bully each other by spreading gossip and rumors.

*headdesk*

This is where I start talking about my own childhood trauma. I know that I really didn't have all that bad of a childhood. I know that you've heard enough stories from the media and lame videos in homeroom. And I'm not asking you to stay--honestly, I would probably go back to facebook as well. But before you go to some other website, please keep in mind that bullying does happen, however well a school district conceals it. The news of teen suicide may seem intangible, incomprehensible, and far away. And the videos of people talking about their experiences seem scripted. But in real life, the land that you and I live in, it does happen. That's all I wanted you to know.

I skipped kindergarten. I was usually the youngest in my class, and my nose was always in a book. I didn't make friends very easily, partially because I thought I was smarter than everyone, and also because I was introverted and socially awkward. From 1st to 6th grade, I honestly felt like the only people that "got" me were the "gifted" students. I remember in 5th grade, I visited the school counselor twice a week to have counseling sessions with another socially awkward girl, because I had a complete meltdown in the cafeteria after the people in my class laughed at me when I spilled mashed potatoes on myself. I remember myself avoiding talking to her outside of the counselor's office because other girls made fun of her and told me she was weird. I never told my peers that I went to counseling with her. I still hear people making fun of her, even as seniors in high school. Sometimes I see her in the girl's bathroom. We don't speak to each other, though. We haven't since the 5th grade.

In sixth grade, I was humiliated by the end-of-the-year assembly. In the past, I had gotten awards for tons of things: science fair, academic contests, perfect attendance, All 'A's, you name it. In sixth grade, I got one 'B'. I didn't even get one award. Not even perfect attendance. Which, as it turned out, was a good thing. I had been told that a boy "liked" me by another kid in his class. Oh, elementary school. The kids in his class made a "mating call" for him, and proceeded to make a howling noise every time he got an award (which was frequently), intending to do so when I received an award as well. Being the awkward child that I was, I wasn't too keen on the idea of being "liked" by anybody, so the award ceremony was bittersweet. Still, I really wish I got All 'A's. It was an 89, too! I missed the award by a point!

((Oh, and that same year, I beat that boy at an academic competition. Which made me really happy, as he seemed like he thought he was even smarter than I thought I was. After sixth grade, I avoided making conversation with him until tenth or eleventh grade.))

Enter junior high, those agonizing world of doom. I thought even higher of my intellect at that point than I had in my elementary years. I didn't have the highest grades whatsoever, but I acted like I did. I overdid everything. If there was a project that my peers would see, it was done above and beyond. If I had to take notes for science, I copied definitions from wikipedia because they sounded more intelligent than those from the book, even if I couldn't understand them. In gym, I never walked during the twenty-minute run, except that one time when I had pneumonia and puked halfway in. I remember an eighth grader (who was also on the cross country team with me) tell me as I ran past her during gym that "overachievers are gay". Another girl called me a b**** as I was dressing out (to this day, I don't know what I did to earn this). Well done, girls. Really classy.

I was the second chair oboist in the top band when I was in eighth grade, and I compulsively forgot to bring my music to class. The girl that was first chair would turn her stand away from me so that I couldn't share with her. She would criticize my playing... frequently. She didn't seem to care when she accidentally broke my reeds while turning her stand. Luckily, I haven't really had to deal with her nonsense since eighth grade.

Honestly, I really didn't care if people laughed at me while I was around, or made lame slanders at me while I was running. I was hurt by the stabs taken at me during band, but it was more of a mild annoyance. I can only think of two times where I was really, truly, emotionally damaged by something that even resembled bullying. And they weren't even to my face.

I don't really remember if it was in seventh or eighth grade... probably seventh. I guess the year doesn't really matter. A friend of mine told me that a girl (who I had never actually had classes with) called me a "freak". More specifically, I was told she said something along the lines of, "Katie Beaman is such a freak. She's like... an overachiever." Note to junior high children: come up with wittier insults. William Shakespeare can assist you. I had a couple friends in that class, and they defended me, and informed me of this. For some reason, I think that made it hurt more. I think the reason why I remember this one event more vividly than any other event from junior high was because of who it came from. This girl was like the queen of my class. She, along with another boy, served as the presidents and vice-presidents for practically every student organization. Theoretically, her opinion represented the people's opinion--thus, if she said I was a freak, I was a freak.

I held a grudge against this girl for years. I avoided voting her into office at all costs--why would I want a leader that didn't represent me? I silently loathed her in each class she was in with me. But I promised myself that I wouldn't say anything. I promised myself that I wouldn't stoop to her level.

And then, she started being nice to me junior year. She talked to me--as a person. She gave me rides home from school. I think part of it was that I began moving out of my awkward phase and up in the ridiculous social hierarchy of high school. I started being elected or appointed into offices--which had never happened before. I wasn't as much of a burden to be associated with; I considered the idea that I had become someone that could be used to move up on the social ladder if they were stupid enough to set that as a goal.

I wasn't sure how to handle it. I was supposed to hate her. She ruined my emotional well-being. Why did she even want to be around me if I was a freak?

And then I realized: she probably didn't even remember. She probably said it as a flip comment.

And that's the problem with bullying. People don't think about the effects. They don't understand that a simple joke made in a math class can lead to hours of self-psychoanalysis and years of loathing in a girl with zero self-confidence and an awful self-image. Most likely, 90% of bullying wouldn't occur if people really knew the outcome. I'm not asking you to be a revolutionary against bullying. I'm just asking you, regardless of age, sex, gender, or race, to consider your actions and words before they hurt somebody.



Epilogue:

It does get better. I've noticed that this year, people (or at least, I) don't really care about the social hierarchy that ruled our lives in junior high. The anime-obsessed kid can be friends with the football player. The bookish introverts can be chummy with the pretentious theater kids. The kids bound to wheelchairs actually have names and personalities, and are awesome to hang out with. I love senior year--but the thing I enjoy most about it is that people simply don't care.

Oh, and about the girl that called me a freak. I love her to death. She's extremely talented, and extremely fun to be around. I've considered bringing up what happened in junior high, but honestly, it doesn't matter. We're totally different people. And that's the beauty of growing up. People change. Attitudes change. Situations change. Perspectives change. Hopefully for the better.


P.S. My Spanish teacher taught me a mnemonic device for remembering the Spanish-speaking South American countries:

Vicious Cats Eat People Because Cats Are Ugly Pets
(Venezuela, Columbia, Ecuador, Peru, Bolivia, Chile, Argentina, Uruguay, Paraguay)