Day four….
Day in and day out the media is picking apart the events at Virginia Tech. We are slowly seeing an image of a young man who was perhaps picked on and put upon by his peers in junior high school and high school and he carried his pain and distress over these events with him into his college life.
I have to pause and think back on my high school, junior high school and even elementary years. They were not pretty, they were not filled with sunshine and light, my peers were less than kind. I was different, different brought with it verbal and mental abuse. It is because children are far crueler than some people care to realize.
First it was because I spoke English with an accent (I have since learned to get rid of it so that I have no accent in my voice of any type I am accent void but I can without a problem adopt any accent I have had the pleasure of listening to, when I do people mistake it for the real deal. It’s a gift of sorts.)
The it was because I was too quiet, I had a tendency not to talk unless I had something of value to add to the conversation. Of course when I did have something to say I would just keep right on talking. (that too is a gift and a curse.)
Then it was I was overly developed, I woke up at 13 with size 40 D breasts and for some reason my fellow women (peers mind you) felt that made me their personal enemy. I never did figure that out.
Then it was I read too much, and retained too much of what I read in my head. That seemed to upset peers and adults alike. It was as if I was breaking some rule about what I should and should not remember.
Notice, I never brought a gun to school or a knife or any weapon. I never killed anybody, mauled them, or hurt them. I just let it wash over me and let it go. There was no fixing the broke that was coming out of the mouths and minds of the speakers. I just knew that and let them have their ideas and thoughts and let it go from me.
Years went by, in my High school years, I got picked on only in my freshman year, after that and one instance where I fought back. I took another girl down and beat her with my bear hands, I had reach the enough point I have to assume. I did not kill her, did not damager her beyond repair but I did gain her respect after that and more I gained the respect of those around me. I had drawn the line in the sand and stood my ground.
I learned something from it as well, I could draw that line for anybody else I happened to see being picked on or singled out for whatever reason. I did not need to know them, I did not need to be their friend, I could just step up and draw the line. And you know what?
Every line I drew caused those who were being bullies to stop and think about it, suddenly it was not a single person they were bulling it was two and amazingly it became more each time, because I showed people they could stand up and say enough.
That and it did not hurt having the mark of a fighter on me, the knowledge that I could and would throw punches not pull hair or kick and scratch. I was told I had a mean right and a killer left. So I have to assume I threw them the way my father had taught me.
I sit here thinking about all those days gone by and I wonder why there is a difference today from those yester-years.
Why, didn’t people go off the deep in then? Why do they slip reality now? Is it because we have taken authority away from parents (no spanking it is child abuse)? Is it because we have cornered the Lion (all the teachers and even the law enforcement people) and removed their ability to act?
Why is it, more young people are sliding out of control?
More, why is it that the older generations (my generation) did not lose it? What is different about us? Are we wired differently? Are we hardier stock? Wired to take punishing blows to our egos and just roll with it?
Of course all this does is make me realize I am back to my favorite question, the one that got me in trouble with the nuns in school and with the public school teachers as well, because I never stopped asking and it appears I never will stop asking….
Why?
Silence who is wolf.
I have to pause and think back on my high school, junior high school and even elementary years. They were not pretty, they were not filled with sunshine and light, my peers were less than kind. I was different, different brought with it verbal and mental abuse. It is because children are far crueler than some people care to realize.
First it was because I spoke English with an accent (I have since learned to get rid of it so that I have no accent in my voice of any type I am accent void but I can without a problem adopt any accent I have had the pleasure of listening to, when I do people mistake it for the real deal. It’s a gift of sorts.)
The it was because I was too quiet, I had a tendency not to talk unless I had something of value to add to the conversation. Of course when I did have something to say I would just keep right on talking. (that too is a gift and a curse.)
Then it was I was overly developed, I woke up at 13 with size 40 D breasts and for some reason my fellow women (peers mind you) felt that made me their personal enemy. I never did figure that out.
Then it was I read too much, and retained too much of what I read in my head. That seemed to upset peers and adults alike. It was as if I was breaking some rule about what I should and should not remember.
Notice, I never brought a gun to school or a knife or any weapon. I never killed anybody, mauled them, or hurt them. I just let it wash over me and let it go. There was no fixing the broke that was coming out of the mouths and minds of the speakers. I just knew that and let them have their ideas and thoughts and let it go from me.
Years went by, in my High school years, I got picked on only in my freshman year, after that and one instance where I fought back. I took another girl down and beat her with my bear hands, I had reach the enough point I have to assume. I did not kill her, did not damager her beyond repair but I did gain her respect after that and more I gained the respect of those around me. I had drawn the line in the sand and stood my ground.
I learned something from it as well, I could draw that line for anybody else I happened to see being picked on or singled out for whatever reason. I did not need to know them, I did not need to be their friend, I could just step up and draw the line. And you know what?
Every line I drew caused those who were being bullies to stop and think about it, suddenly it was not a single person they were bulling it was two and amazingly it became more each time, because I showed people they could stand up and say enough.
That and it did not hurt having the mark of a fighter on me, the knowledge that I could and would throw punches not pull hair or kick and scratch. I was told I had a mean right and a killer left. So I have to assume I threw them the way my father had taught me.
I sit here thinking about all those days gone by and I wonder why there is a difference today from those yester-years.
Why, didn’t people go off the deep in then? Why do they slip reality now? Is it because we have taken authority away from parents (no spanking it is child abuse)? Is it because we have cornered the Lion (all the teachers and even the law enforcement people) and removed their ability to act?
Why is it, more young people are sliding out of control?
More, why is it that the older generations (my generation) did not lose it? What is different about us? Are we wired differently? Are we hardier stock? Wired to take punishing blows to our egos and just roll with it?
Of course all this does is make me realize I am back to my favorite question, the one that got me in trouble with the nuns in school and with the public school teachers as well, because I never stopped asking and it appears I never will stop asking….
Why?
Silence who is wolf.