I just saw a video from an early June story done by a Twin Cities TV station on bullying. The story featured a group of five elementary age boys who took it upon themselves to look out for a fellow classmate who was being picked on and bullied by others because he was “special”.

 

The story touched my heart and gave me a new found hope for some of today’s youth. The story also reminded me of how I was able to avoid or overcome bullying when I too was younger.

 

I was a relatively quiet kid growing up and always felt a little awkward in school because I really didn’t fit in with the athletes, the “druggies”, the prince and princesses or the “nerds”. I was kind of one of those people lost in the middle of it all.

 

Which for the most part, isn’t so bad as long as you are left alone. But bullies don’t segregate when it comes to picking on people and I received my fair share as a victim early on.

 

I remember one instance when I was a freshman at Fridley Grace High School in the middle 1970’s. I had just finished lunch in the cafeteria with a fellow “unlikeable” when I mentioned to him I was going to go use the bathroom (located nearby). He said I was crazy to want to use “that” bathroom since it was considered the senior’s bathroom.

 

I furrowed my eyebrows and thought, “senior bathroom? Are you kidding me?” And proceeded to enter the boys room.

 

Upon entrance I noticed one boy (a senior) at the sink combing his hair. I heard another person in one of the stalls so I walked up to the urinal to “do my business” in a casual way.

 

Out of the corner of my eye I could see the first senior get joined up by another senior at the mirrors. One of the boys grabbed a nearby chair and dragged it to the door and sat down with his leg across the exit. The other student stood at the sink with his arms crossed — waiting for me to approach.

 

Inside, my heart beated feverishly inside my 85-pound body and my breathing became short puffs of air. I dreaded my pigheadedness in not listening to my friend — but there was no turning back now.

 

I don’t know how or where I got the idea but I convinced myself I wasn’t going to let these guys intimidate me.

 

After zipping up and turning around, I kept from making eye contact with the domineering duo and walked up to the mirror, washed my hands next to the cross-armed fellow and leaned in to fix my hair. Next, I walked over to the door where the senior had the escape blocked and I was just waiting for the worst to happen to me.

 

When I neared his leg, I simply looked up at his smiling face, shook my head in disdain and stepped over his leg and out the door. All the while I expected them to follow me out and grab me and throttle me.

 

But lo and behold, I returned to the lunch table in one piece — though I imagine I looked white as a ghost with all the blood drained from my face.

 

Another “bullying” experience was when I was on the B-squad baseball team as a freshman at the same school. After a practice, a “likeable” sophomore and his pal thought it would be really funny to attack us few freshman and make fools of us. 

 

One of my frosh friends got hung up by his underwear in the shower while being laughed at and another got whipped by wet towels. I, they decided, would be shoved in a free-standing locker and pushed up against a wall so I couldn’t escape.

 

At first, I yelled for them to let me out and I banged frantically on the backside of the lockers — begging them to let me out. Through a small hole in the back of the locker, I could see the bullies laughing and pointing as I practically cried like a baby in fear.

 

Again, I don’t know where I got the idea, but after a few moments I just decided to be completely quiet and be still.

 

The bullies — after not getting a reaction from inside the locker from me — approached the locker and started kicking and pounding on it to get me to react. I remained still and quiet as a mouse and I could see through my peephole, the mood with the sophomores started changing.

 

Instead of power and control, they started displaying panic and dread.

 

Immediately, they grabbed the locker system and turned it around and flung open the door — expecting to find me collapsed or passed out. Instead, I emerged with a sly smile on my face and I walked right by them to gather my things to go home.

 

Needless to say, they never bothered me again in all my years of playing ball or during the school day.

 

Neither did the two seniors from the bathroom.

 

The lesson I learned from those experiences was what I hope a lot of other kids who are victimized remember — don’t empower the bullies by being  easy prey. Bullies like their victims to cry, wail, resist and fight back. I decided I wasn’t going to let these people make me a fool.

 

And I’m glad some of the kids who become victims — like the boy in the bully story on the news station — gets the kind of support and favor from other boys and girls who have decided enough is enough.

 

Bullies are usually hurting people who want to see others feel the hurt they are feeling. Let’s stop empowering them.