Sarah & Ian Hoffman

Building a culture of kindness. One book at a time.
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4: Community

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This is the fourth post in a series about my son’s recent experience with bullying at school.

When a friend told us to start talking to parents at our school, we started talking.

We talked to parents in the hall, on the playground, by email, on the phone. We reached out to parents we never thought to talk to about these issues—because we assumed they didn’t face the same issues, or have an interest in them—and we’ve shared our experience. We told them Sam is being bullied, that he’s been bullied by some of the same kids for four years, and now, suddenly, by a group of new kids. We told them how disappointed we’ve been that the school promises to do something about it, and then doesn’t.

And we listened. We heard from friends, and friends of friends, and parents we’d never met. We heard stories about kids teased and harassed for their weight, their height, their learning style, their lack of sports ability, their bookishness, and yes, their gender non-conformity. We heard how fervently parents want their kids to be strong, empathic people, kids who know how to stand up for themselves, how to manage their own feelings, and what to do when they see a friend in trouble. We felt the support of so many people who offered to do whatever they could to help Sam and to make our school a safer place for all kids.

And after all this talking and listening, we made appointments with the school counselor, the principal, and the head of school. With less dismay, less resignation, some inspiration, and a great deal of hope. We don’t know where these conversations will go.

But now we know we are not alone.

 

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3: A Friend

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This is the third in a series about my son’s recent experience with bullying at school.

I emailed a close friend at Sam’s school, telling her of my despair at the futility of having one more meeting with the principal that sounds great and goes nowhere. I said that this has been a battle we have fought alone, and that we are losing energy for the fight.

But my friend said that I was wrong. She said that other parents are concerned about bullying, too. Particularly concerned since recently, a boy at a local high school committed suicide after facing social challenges. She said:

If someone brought in an expert to do a parent presentation on bullying, there’d be a huge turnout…I think we’re a group of people who understand what it’s like to be bullied and we want to protect our kids from both sides of this—no one wants their kids to be bullied, but no one wants their kid to be a bully either.

My friend helped me realize that we are not alone. That other parents may have an investment in doing this work alongside us. Because they don’t want to see Sam bullied. Because they don’t want to see their own children bullied. Because they don’t want their own kids to be bullies—or to be the kind of people who stand by when they see another person being hurt.

This was a whole new perspective. If the school sees that many parents care about bullying, if we are not the lone squeaky wheel, then maybe we can make a difference.

I’m still brokenhearted about what Sam is going through. But along with brokenhearted, now I’m inspired.

 

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2: The School

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This is the second in a series about my son’s recent experience with bullying at school.

Sam’s teachers these last four years have been amazing; they have addressed bullying whenever they see or hear about it, and worked hard to build a culture of kindness in their classrooms. The administration has taken action to discipline children who have been cruel. And yet punishing bullying after the fact is not the same as preventing it from happening in the first place.

For four years, we have asked the school administration to do the work necessary to prevent Sam from being harassed—to implement a school-wide bullying prevention program specifically around gender identity. We have connected them with anti-bullying trainers, directed them to age-appropriate curriculum, shared studies showing the effects of acceptance on health and mental health outcomes for LGBT kids.

For four years the administration has felt our pain, sympathized, told us how Sam adds valuable diversity to their school community, said how grateful they are that we’ve brought our concerns to their attention.

And for four years, they’ve done nothing about it.

When I learned of the recent escalation of bullying against Sam, I thought, with dismay and resignation: “It’s time for yet another talk with the school.”  Then I thought, with dismay and resignation: “We’ve had these talks before, so many times, and here we are, with things getting worse.”

At what point do we call it quits? Find another school? Is there a school where kids who are as different as Sam is don’t get bullied?

 

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