Devon Home-Education Groups:
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"Bullying and School Toughens Children Up"
During a conversation yesterday I was
told that "children needed to go to school to toughen them up, so they
learn that life isn't all rosy."
I've heard this said what seems like a million times since I've been
home-educating. It ranks pretty highly along with the lack of
socialisation and mums can't teach everything concerns, in what to
expect in a conversation with somebody that doesn't understand home-ed.
As an aside, I seem to be in highly reflective mode lately. I seem to
be thinking a lot about my past, my childhood, my school days and how
they have affected me. I've been soul searching deeply, looking into
past mistakes and what could have been done (if anything) to change
things.
Life is one long learning curve isn't it?
So, when someone made this "toughening up" statement yesterday, in a
very matter of fact of course I'm right sort of way, it got me
thinking. I have analysed it more than I have done previously. In the
past I have just shrugged it off as differing opinions, but this time it
bothered me. Not in a "oh my whole world is going to come crashing
down" sort of bothered, but more in a "how did school toughen me up
then?" sort of way.
So let's think about that.
If memory serves me correct, I went to nursery school at 3/4 years old.
I remember being blissfully happy playing on the see-saws outside in the
garden, queuing respectfully for a turn on the slide, and blowing
bubbles in the washing up liquid paint. I remember the days dwindling
away with creating butterfly paintings, cross-stitching on plastic
canvas, sewing funny shaped cuddly toys and preparing for my Angel role
in the Nativity Play. It was obvious I was going to be given that role
- after all, I was your typical blonde haired "beauty" at that age,
exceptionally well behaved due to strict parenting, with good manners,
and always perfectly turned out. My mum took the uniform rules very
seriously - pinafore dresses and knee high white socks, highly polished
black shoes, hair was immaculately styled in "pig tail" bunches, or
plaits. I was no trouble at all. I was quiet and loved reading
and writing. The teachers seemed to like me, and all was well with the
world.
Moving on to Primary school. I think I enjoyed it, but I can't
remember a huge amount about it. I can remember various teachers, but
can't recall much about lessons and learning. I can remember a great
deal about fellow classmates, but can't recall having many friends.
I don't feel as if I fitted in. I was painfully shy and quiet. I
didn't know about fashions and what the current trend was. In latter
years of Primary, the girls around me were discussing celebrities and
make up. I didn't know who they were talking about and had never touched
make up. My hair was all wrong, and my front teeth were the size of
tombstones. I was still happily jumping over flower pot jumps in the
garden pretending I was a Show-Jumper, oblivious to the fact that others
were growing up fast.
During those years I clearly recall two occasions that sound so silly
now, but I know have impacted my life. First was when two boys sitting
on the same table as myself talked to me. Now I would have been around
10 years old at this time, and I clearly remember the joy I felt that
someone was talking to me. I talked back smiling, and promptly got hit
on the hand hard with a ruler by the teacher for talking in class. I
was horrified. Embarrassed. Confused. I was a "good girl", never in
trouble before. It was a shock. Those boys never spoke to me again and
I never tried to talk to others.
The second incident was when I had finished my lesson work early. 2
other girls had finished theirs too (they were the "top 2" in the
class). We were asked to help the teacher to create a wall display, and
this included cutting out lots of signs. I didn't know that we were
meant to cut outside of the lines, as the lines were actually part of
the design. I happily spent an hour or so cutting with the other 2
doing the same. The next morning I went into class and was greeted by a
very angry teacher. In front of the class I was belittled and made to
feel stupid. Apparently the teacher had painstakingly drawn around each
sign and was very cross that I had cut them in the wrong place. It was
me, she was sure of it as "C and E would definitely have not made such a
stupid mistake". Thanks. Self-esteem plummeted to the depths as I
could hear the class giggling at my misfortune, I remember feeling
incredibly hot, blushing awfully, and wishing the ground would swallow
me up forever.
I'm not saying that Primary school was a bad experience for me. It
wasn't that bad, I
just remember feeling incredibly lonely and confused at times. I
do remember struggling to live up to teacher expectations. I was
following in the footsteps of my brother. The brother that had
academically excelled in everything he attempted (he was part of the
debating team, the law and order team, the football team, the swimming
team, the travelling drama crew... and...well, you get the idea). He
went on to pass his 11 plus exam and thus entered Grammar School. On
more than one occasion I heard the "Oh, you are nothing like your
brother are you??" when I failed to understand something or answer a
question correctly.
No big deal you might say, and I would ordinarily agree. But for some
reason experiences such as these have haunted me. I can see that I
doubt my ability to do things even to this day. Do you know that it is
only in the past 5 years or so that I have become comfortable with
making people cups of tea? I fretted that it would be too strong, too
weak, not sweet enough, too much milk etc etc. I panic over silly
things being "right", and would often rather not try things than get
them wrong and make a fool of myself.
My self-esteem plummeted to beyond recognition.
My first year of Secondary school was spent at an all-girls school. I
liked that school. I felt quite popular. I got along with everyone and
felt part of things. I did well in the classes, didn't find the work
difficult, and felt that I could just be me. None of the teachers had
any expectations of my abilities as my brother hadn't been there before
me. Sad then, that the last day of this school is so ingrained in my
memory as a bad day. It was school sports day and I had been chosen to
compete in the 1500 metres for my team. I loved running, just like my
dad. I sprinted around the track and won with ease. Instead of
celebrations I was met by angry girls. Why? Because one of my fellow
racers was crying as she had lost despite trying so hard. Her
humiliation and disappointment was there for all to see, and that made
everyone feel sorry for her. Even my fellow team mates thought I was
the bad guy. The last words that echo in my mind are "You could have
let her win..." from a so-called friend of mine. I felt guilty, I felt
bad, I felt sorry that I had caused her such upset. It was something I
had never experienced before as the kind, loving, caring child I always
tried to be. I just wanted everyone to be happy.
Then we moved house. Not just to a new house, but to a new County. At
12 we moved from Birmingham to Devon, to live by the sea. I was sad to
leave, but excited. I dreamed of a new life with lots of new friends.
Oh dear.
I started in the 2nd year of my new school. There were 3 new girls in
the class that year. Immediately the other two paired off and became
friends. I was laughed at. My skirt (that mum had chosen as
suitable) was too long and unfashionable as it was just below
knee-length and "prim and proper", my knee high white socks
were childish, my shoes were of the "sensible" variety, I wore a "proper
shirt" rather than the comfortable polo ones or casual blouses, and my
tie was worn correctly. My hair - well, my beautiful blonde hair was a
great source of amusement. Why? Because I didn't have a fringe. I was
laughed at and taunted. "Slaphead" was the norm. I was heartbroken. I
had so many dreams of new starts and being popular, but it wasn't to
be. I didn't talk to my parents about it, although I did beg my mum to
cut me a fringe. She wouldn't. I just muddled on through the days and
got on with things as best I could. One day (embarrassing confession
time), I sneaked a can of hair spray into my school bag. I got down the
road on my way to school and tried to make a fringe. I put a side
parting in my hair and tried to stick my hair into a side sort of
fringe. Obviously it looked hideous, and I was taunted all the more. I
can laugh at my foolishness now, but I was so desperate to be liked! I
went on to sneaking a shorter, more fashionable skirt into my bag and
changing on the way to school. I started to wear the usual polo shirts
instead of the crisp white button up ones, hiding the fact under my
jumper and praying mum didn't notice. I rolled my knee high socks down
around my ankles, and took a change of shoes. All this deceit in an
attempt to fit in. I was torn between pleasing my mum and wanting
friends. I chose to turn against my mum and work hard on the friends
bit.
I haven't yet mentioned that I wore
glasses. My eyesight was very bad. I couldn't read any of the
blackboard without glasses. But, my glasses were awful. They were NHS
prescription frames that my mum thought were lovely and she didn't have
to pay for them. They would do the job and that was that. I would
never argue with my mum. Even when she told me to wear bright green
flares and a matching waistcoat - I wouldn't argue. I cringed and
sobbed inside, but wanted to please my mum and make her happy. So there
I was with a choice to make. Do I put my "Dame Edna" lookalike glasses
on (I kid you not, I wish I was!) knowing that my peers would tear me
apart for the rest of my school days, or do I just pretend that I can
see perfectly well thank you, and spend hours pretending to copy text
and diagrams from the board. I did the latter. Well, who would want to
look like Roz from Monsters Inc?
You can imagine the mess this got me into it - I struggled to keep up, I
couldn't revise for exams, I was a big fat failure because peer pressure
was more important to me that grades. Actually, I went on to College,
and after handing in essay after essay and getting very good scores, my
tutor checked my file for school exam results and couldn't believe how
low they were in comparison to the high standard that I was achieving at
college. The difference being there was very little copy board work to
be done at College, simple.
I have barely touched on my "bullying" experiences in the Secondary
school. I haven't told you about the amount of times I was forced to
run home as fast I could because a gang of girls were chasing me with
cries of "let's get her, let's punch her in the face". Why did they
want to do this? Because I was an ugly slaphead of course. I didn't get
into arguments, I was too quiet and shy. My hair was blonde and my skin
was fair, so I got labelled as an "ugly weird albino". Despite being
good at sports, I was always the last to be picked for teams - along
with the fat girl. I remember turning up at the first school disco I
went to, in an outfit that my mum had bought for me specially - a short
flared skirt and matching smart short sleeved jacket. I liked
it. Sadly nobody else did. Everyone else had dressed in jeans and
t-shirts and I was devastated. I got called a snob and posh, I was
pushed into, laughed at, and learnt it was easier to just hide away in
the corner where no-one would see me. Numerous times I got caught in
the toilets by the girl gangs, and humiliated. I would stop going to
the loo, holding my toilet needs in until it was oh so uncomfortable -
but I'd rather do that than risk a beating. I started faking illness -
stomach aches or headaches to enable me to leave school 10 minutes
early. Every day for weeks I did this, it was so important for me to be
given that 10 minute head start before my enemies.
I could go on and on, but I won't. I think I've confessed enough.
So, did all of this "toughen me up"?
No. It made me feel inadequate. It made me worry about what I look
like, how I dress, how my hair is styled, and if I fit in. It closed
doors for me academically as I didn't get the results I was more than
capable of achieving, and meant that making friends for me has been
difficult. Yes, it could be argued that my upbringing and relationship
with my mum had something to do with it all. I already lacked the
confidence of many as I put her feelings above my own. I didn't want to
admit that I was struggling. I didn't want to let my parents down. The
peer pressure to conform and the expectations put upon me by the "one
size fits all" system, added to these inadequacies.
It is only in recent years that my confidence has grown and my "don't
care what people think" attitude has surfaced. It is only recently that
I realise that I do actually have friends. Friends that care about me
and like me. But, I still struggle. In the back of my mind are those
inadequacies. I ask myself often why people want to spend time with
me. I think I must be boring to others. I won't ask people to join me
for days out etc, for fear of rejection. Those that know me will
recognise the fact that I struggle to even name a day and time to meet
up for fear of getting it wrong.
Over-reacting? Maybe. Over-sensitive? Most definitely. But, I am not
alone. I have spoken to many people over the years that have struggled
with the same feelings and experiences. So much so that it is probably
deemed as almost normal. Does this make it ok? I don't think so.
My children don't need to be toughened up by such a "survival of the
fittest" institution. I don't need them to experience humiliation and
belittling to prove that life isn't always rosy thank you. My children
learn from life. They aren't protected from society. They (talking
about the older two in particular here) know all about drug use, alcohol
abuse, divorce rates, dysfunctional families, unfairness in the
workplace, financial difficulties etc etc. How? Because they have
their eyes wide open. They live life in the same world as the rest of
us. They read newspapers and watch news reports, then ask questions.
We talk, we discuss, we find out more, I help them learn what they want
to know. They don't need to be pinned down by three girls while a
fourth punches and kicks them. What will that teach them? At best how
to report and deal with a violent attack and how not to put yourself in
such a situation again, at worst how to fight back and make people fear
you through violent threats and behaviour. How many times does the
bullied become the bully? Thanks but no thanks.
So, please no more "toughening them up" tales - I don't want to hear any
more. If my children choose to go to school, it will be because they
feel ready to face it. They will make up their own mind and understand
that school won't be all wonderful and rosy - but that it can offer them
opportunities too. They aren't kept inside a bubble, and actually,
until they read this posting (if indeed they do), they know nothing
about my school experiences as I have never mentioned them. My children
have seen my struggles financially and heard about us debating work
choices and home-ed. They have lived through their dad losing their job
and the unfairness of the law. They have also seen first hand the
bullying at the bus stop by the children waiting for the school bus,
they have witnessed the police at our door enquiring about it. They
have seen their mum crying for days in absolute despair when a so called
friend backstabbed her and turned her world upside down. They have
experienced first hand the cruelness of their own peers when they have
been taunted as they tried to enjoy themselves down at the park - but
they have dealt with it, talked with me about it, and I am mighty proud
of them.
My children are under no illusions. They know they have to take the
good times and the bad. They know that some people will like them, and
some people won't. They understand that life will be easy and hard at
differing times, that they can be lucky and unlucky. They are fully
aware that life will throw up situations that they will struggle to deal
with. But, they are prepared. They haven't been battered and bullied
in order to be prepared, they have been loved, nurtured, and had their
self-esteem protected in order for them to face the world and whatever
life throws at them.
*Disclaimer*
These are my own personal thoughts and opinions. My own experiences, my
own (admittedly hot-headed) rants and distresses. I will not apologise
for voicing my opinion here on my own website - but I do apologise if
any distress or offence is caused to those that don't share my views. If
you don't like what I'm writing - don't read it, but I'd prefer it if
you do :o)
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