No place for bullies

I hated Joel Bellen.
I wanted him dead. I wanted to see him suffer. I wanted him to feel the pain, anguish, hatred and anger he made me feel, and more.
I used to fantasize plots that would land him in trouble. None of my schemes ever came to fruition, but they made me feel good in my daydreams.
Joel Bellen was a bully. I don’t think he ever called me by my name. It was usually “Punk” or “Wuss” or some other name you shouldn’t print in a family newspaper. He was pug-nosed and husky. He was a year or two older than I was and took full advantage of his age and size to pick himself up by putting others down.
He never seemed to want anything from me other than to see me squirm and cry. On most days he got his fill. He punched me often, or so it seemed, but I never had the guts to hit him back.
He lived just two houses around the corner on Meadowdale Drive. I lived on Pebble Road, a street name that seemed fitting in a way. Directly between our homes was that of Chucky Williams. Chucky was always between us, wanting to be friends with both of us. Whenever Joel was in one of his bullying moods, Chucky would side with him and bully me as well. Chucky could be a close friend of mine whenever Joel wasn’t around. It was a weird relationship and I never knew when Chucky was my friend or not, but I learned to live with it.
There were other bullies in the neighborhood. Sam was much older, almost too old to relate to me, but he still did his share of dirt clod throwing and name calling. Ray was perpetually angry at everyone, especially at me because I was too afraid to stand up for myself.
I learned many years later that Ray’s father was a drunk who beat up on him regularly. It’s no wonder he was so violent and bitter.
Even though I lived in close proximity to these guys, I rarely feared them at home. Most of their bullying took place at the bus stop or on the playground at school. As a result, I dreaded school. I loathed it. The teachers were no help either. To them I was just a whiney little brat and a tattletale.
Now, let me pause for a moment. I know there are teacher types out there saying that any teacher worth the apple on her desk would never behave that way toward any student. I can vouch from very vivid and very painful memories that certain teachers did side with bullies, and it happened more than once.
“Chucky is a good boy. He would never do anything like that. You’re just making it up again,” one of them told me at recess while Chucky stood behind her smirking at me.
Another time I overheard a conversation between two teachers who were talking about what they should do with that “whiney Southern kid.”
Those words hurt, even more than any punch in the nose from Joel or kick in the chest from Chucky.
I didn’t want to go to school. I didn’t want to learn. School, to me, was not a safe place. I lived in fear at school.
All of that could have been prevented had there been something like the Olweus Bully Prevention Program that the Hereford Independent School District is implementing this year. Olweus (pronounced Ole-VEY-us) is about stopping bullies by empowering the victims and bystanders.
Had I been believed and supported by adults or had intervention from bystanders, my life might be very different today. I eventually grew out of my fear of school once I started playing football in high school. That toughened me up mentally and physically. I dished out as much gruff as I took and learned to laugh and roll with the proverbial punches.
Chucky had become Chuck by then. While we weren’t close, we were friends and teammates.
One day during our junior year Chuck broke the news to me that Joel, who had moved away a couple years earlier, had been killed in an auto accident.
I didn’t know how to feel. My greatest wish – my dream – had come true. And I hated myself for feeling that way. I could no longer hate him. I pitied him. I wanted to apologize to him for my part in making him a bully; for never standing up to him and perhaps becoming the friend he may have needed or wanted.
Intervention could have led to understanding. Empowerment could have improved my self-worth. A feeling of safety and acceptance could have changed my whole perspective about school.
I hope and pray no child has to ever endure what I did. That’s why I so strongly applaud Hereford ISD for embracing Olweus. I encourage the whole community to take it on, to make a difference. It’s not a fad that should pass away with grant money. It should be a way of life.
The Bible teaches us to stand up for the defenseless. So does Olweus. So should we all.