Category: Bullies

Wonder

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

121009_DX_WonderBook.jpg.CROP.promo-mediumlargeWe pretend not to care about physical appearances, but then our responses to beauty or lack of it tell a different story. Our world is filled with products and procedures that we purchase and use to improve our looks. We study the icons of pulchritude with an eye to imitating the imagery that they project. We don’t want to be shallow enough to react on the basis of someone’s physical traits, and yet whether consciously or subconsciously we somehow seem to judge facial features, body types, hairstyles and clothing. Researchers have told us that those with pleasing physical attributes are often perceived as being more intelligent and worthy of leadership positions. Even as we pray that we ourselves will not be judged solely by the way we look, we somehow fall victim to viewing others in such ways and worrying about how they in turn are seeing us.

We are often our own worst critics. I remember reading an interview with Keira Knightley in which she laughed at the very idea of being a beauty. She proceeded to point out every flaw in her face and her body as though it was common knowledge that she was in truth a rather homely girl. I recall thinking that we all do such things with ourselves as we gaze in the mirror day after day. Each of us sees aspects of our appearance that go unnoticed by others. I hate my lack of a strong chin and the fact that one of my eyelids droops just enough to make my eyes seem uneven. I suspect that most people really never think of those things when they see me, and yet deep down inside I am self conscious and even find myself wondering what they are thinking about my features.

Sadly we are a superficial society in spite of our protests that such things don’t really matter, particularly when it comes to women. We dissect every inch of our female political figures, critiquing their hairstyles and their wardrobe choices. Little wonder that young girls begin to worry so much about how they are developing as they bloom into womanhood. They take note of whether are not they are ever complimented as a beauty even when they understand that such things should not matter.  They watch the cruelty of their classmates toward those who don’t possess the attributes deemed attractive by the public. Adolescence can be an extremely stressful time for anyone who is a bit different and most of us have endured that trying time, so we should know better than to fall victim to superficialities.

There is an exceptional book by R. J. Palacio called Wonder that tackles the topic of who we really are by telling the story of Auggie, a young boy born with Treacher Collins syndrome, a rare disease in which the facial bones do not form properly. Auggie has been homeschooled because of the many health issues and surgeries associated with his illness. Now he is ready for middle school, and his mom believes that it is time for him to attend public school and learn how to navigate in a world that can sometimes be very cruel. His journey is fraught with not just the usual junior high taunts and stresses, but with the added difficulties resulting from his physical differences. In the end Auggie and his best friend learn the importance of what really makes each of us incredible, and Auggie himself realizes that he is truly the wonder that his mother tells him that he is.

Wonder has become a best selling novel that is treasured by young and old readers alike. My granddaughter who is an avid reader counts it among her all time favorite books. This summer a grandson will read it as part of his summer assignments for entry into the sixth grade. I suspect that many people have been challenged to rethink how they view the people around them while learning about the miracle that is Auggie. The novel demonstrates that sometimes the people who appear to be the most lovely have very ugly souls, while those who do not fit our standard definitions of beauty are in fact the most gorgeous people in our lives. It reminds us not to judge a book by its cover or a person by his/her face.

We all know that once we truly love someone we lose the ability to see them as anything other than amazingly wonderful. We care little about how they look for we have experienced their kindness, their generosity the very depth of their souls. We are able to see inside their beautiful hearts rather than only gazing at the skin deep aspects of their appearance. Wonder laments those who are incapable of experiencing the true meanings of life even while it celebrates our true essences. It focuses on the importance of friendships, character and the uniqueness that makes each of us special.

This summer a movie based on the book will be released and it is sure to become a classic. We owe it to our young people to either watch the film or read the novel together and then discuss a topic that we too often ignore. It is our duty as adults to help our children to realize that each of us is absolutely perfect just as we are. It is in finding the beauty in ourselves that we begin to see it in the people around us. Once we move past our own worries and concerns a whole world of possibilities opens up for us and it is spectacularly lovely.    

The Man on the Train

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

cta2061I was seven years old and with my family enjoying a vacation in Chicago. We had spent the day seeing the sights and were riding an elevated train back to our hotel. It was somewhat late at night so we were quite tired. There was only one passenger in the car with us. He was a rather nondescript soul who sat muttering to himself and staring at the floor. We thought nothing of him as we laughed and spoke of the fun that we had enjoyed that day. I suppose that our enthusiasm may have been a bit loud and over the top, but we were children. It’s the way that little ones react.

Without warning our fellow passenger focused his gaze on us and began loudly cursing. When our only response to his outburst was to quietly look at him in astonishment he stood up and began gesturing wildly as he spoke directly to our father. He insisted that Daddy either remove his “brats” from the train or face the consequences. Our dad immediately lost his cool and suggested that the strange man was the one who needed to leave the train which by then was already rumbling down the tracks. The two men stood within striking distance of one another in a contest of wills, and I found myself astounded that my father was capable of becoming as ferocious as he now appeared.

I was suddenly quite terrified and I sensed that our mother was feeling as frightened as I was. She pulled us behind her tense body and quietly watched the proceedings unfold in a posture that told me that she was ready to pounce into protective mode if needed. The man was out of control and noticed my mother’s demeanor. He immediately began to curse at her and call her horrific names that I remember to this day. Daddy turned red and it almost seemed as though smoke was coming from his ears. As he attempted to step forward to answer the man’s taunts with a clenched fist Mama grabbed his belt and pulled him back with all of her might.

This prompted our attacker to hurl even more insulting epithets at both our mother and our father. He boasted of violent things that he was going to do to both of them, and he promised that when he was done he would throw me and my brothers onto the train tracks where we belonged. This outburst so enraged Daddy that he broke away from Mama’s hold spewing threats of his own. Mama in the meantime kept begging both of the men to calm down and move away from one another. Just when it seemed that a bloody battle between the two men was about to ensue the train arrived at the next station and as the doors opened Mama ordered all of us to follow her out of the train while she tugged with all of her might on our father’s hand. Within seconds we were free, and the train sped away with our attacker still cursing and flailing his hands.

I have never forgotten that episode even though it has been six decades since it occurred. I have always believed that had it not been for my mother’s cool thinking there might have been a terrible tragedy on that night. Somehow she understood that the only way to deal with the deranged man was to ignore him and flee as soon as possible. While she never again mentioned our dangerous encounter, she often reminded us to walk away from insulting taunts from out of control individuals. She even used yet another story as an example. It involved a time when our grandfather attempted to aid a young woman who was being verbally harassed by the man accompanying her. Grandpa ended up being badly beaten by both the man and the woman because of his ill timed intervention and felt lucky to get away alive.

I have thought of my own family stories in light of the recent verbal attack of two young Muslim girls in Oregon that resulted in the fatal stabbing of one man and the injuring of another. It seems that the perpetrator of the crime somewhat randomly began insulting the two women drawing the protective ire of two Good Samaritans. Little did they know that he was bearing a knife or that he would even think of using it on them.

I have since seen a number of articles outlining what people should do in such situations, and I can’t help but think of my mother’s quick thinking. I have generally found that the first level of defense is to silently ignore the rants because they are usually indicative of someone whose mental state is out of control. Only when the verbal assaults turn into dangerously violent physical action is there any need to react. Words may hurt but they are nothing compared to the harm from actual fights, and it is very unlikely that anything someone does or says in such a super charged moment will change the assailant’s mind. In other words, the most heroic maneuver is to quietly shield the targets of the rage and then help them to leave the scene as quickly as possible. Any arguments no matter how logical they may seem have the potential to inflame the situation. My advice is to get out and get help.

Years after I had been so traumatized on that train I learned that an acquaintance had been killed as he attempted to help a woman who was being assaulted by her boyfriend in a bar. Just as with my grandfather both members of the couple turned on my friend slamming a metal bar stool into his head in retaliation for his interference. Ironically my friend had just returned from a tour of duty in Vietnam only to be cut down for an heroic act in his own hometown.

We have given a great deal of press to individuals who are coming to the aide of people who are being harassed with racist rants. Ellen even presented a monetary reward to one kind soul who stood up to a contemptuous and vile verbal attacker. While it seems to be the noble thing to do, I would humbly suggest that everyone be careful in assessing the situation before jumping into the fray. Sometimes the very best thing for everyone is to do nothing other than get away from the situation as soon as possible. There are truly crazy and evil people whose actions cannot be predicted. Giving them a wide berth and ignoring their remarks may in fact be the best reaction.

As a teacher and school administrator I often encountered people who lost their control. I’ve had individuals threaten to follow me home and beat me to a pulp. I have been called some vile names. I found over and over again that I had to be the one to maintain my composure by staying calm and refusing to react in such situations. As my mother often advised, I had to consider the source and understand that there was far more happening inside the minds of such individuals than anything that personally affected me.

Our father wanted to protect his family on our train ride from hell, but it was our mother who understood what needed to be done. We should all try to think first before attempting to deal with such insanity, or our original intent may end up leading to even greater problems. Sometimes remaining silent and running away is the most courageous route that we might choose.

Memories of Summer Past

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

46211978-Children-racing-in-the-park-on-a-sunny-day-Stock-Photo-playing-child-park.jpgWhen the weather gets warm and the school year comes to a close I have a tendency to hark back to my childhood, and oh how wonderful it was. We didn’t have air conditioning back then even though Houston was as hot as it is now. We used a big attic fan and open windows to keep cool. Mostly though we stayed outside where there was always great adventure to be found. The hose was our water fountain and source of play all in one.

My usual wardrobe consisted of a pair of shorts and a sleeveless crop top. I don’t think I donned a pair of shoes from the end of May until the end of August unless we went to church or a store. My mother usually cut my hair into what she called pixie style, but it had mostly function and very little style. It kept my neck cool and was easy to care for. My feet would turn almost black by the end of each day and I often sported a ring around my neck from dirt and sweat that my mother called “Grandma’s beads.” God only knows I survived cuts from glass and punctures from nails.

I remember waking up early each summer morning. Somehow getting up with a rising sun was much easier when a day of fun lay ahead than during the school year. We were mostly on our own for entertainment. If we dared to hang around complaining that we were bored Mama would admonish us to go outside and play. Truthfully we rarely had trouble finding something to do. There were kids all up and down the block as excited about creating adventurous times as we were. We rode our bicycles up and down the neighborhood and across the bridge over Sims Bayou to Garden Villas. There we played games at the park and visited the mobile library.

All of us were quite inventive back then. At Karen’s house we built tents on her mother’s clotheslines out of sheets and blankets. At the Cervenka’s we dug an underground room. We teamed up for street baseball and had serious Red Rover tournaments. Sometimes I broke off from the boys and played with my dolls with Candy and Jeannie. Groups of us also created shows to which we would invite the entire neighborhood. I even tried my hand at amateur journalism by creating a newspaper with stories about all of the happenings.

Once in a great while my mother would treat us with a big thermos of ice water with enough cups for our friends. It was a welcome change from the hot rubbery tasting water from the hose. She was also known for inviting our friends in for lunch and she made the best sandwiches ever. When the temperature crept above one hundred degrees she allowed us to host game tournaments at the kitchen table. Monopoly and Canasta were two of the favorites and we played like Las Vegas professionals vying for world titles.

We enjoyed riding to Hartman Junior High to swim and to Ripley House to take art lessons and such. I most of all loved lying on my bed in front of the windows reading books while a hot breeze wafted over me. Reading was the surest way to be allowed in the house. As long as we were quiet and didn’t make a mess our mother was happy.

Mostly though we stayed outside until it grew dark each evening and grudgingly suspended our play when Mama called us in to take baths and get ready for bed. We spent a great deal of time lying on our backs gazing at the stars. We identified constellations and talked of things that are important to children. I remember feeling gleeful upon seeing the fireflies lighting up the nighttime and playing shadowy games of Swing the Statue.

On Friday evenings we always went to visit my grandmother, even in the summer, and that meant seeing all of my cousins. Our favorite past time was a game we called Hide and Find which was little more than a variation on Hide and Seek. We tended to stay outside because our parents filled Grandma’s tiny living room with smoke from their cigarettes. When we did go inside it was usually to watch wrestling or The Twilight Zone. On rainy evenings we spied on the brothers and sisters who were now our parents as they argued over poker games and who was our grandmother’s favorite child. We ate slices of rye bread and washed them down with a weak and sugary version of coffee. There was nothing quite like those weekly reunions that we thought would never end. Like Peter Pan we were in no hurry to grow up.

I rarely witness the kind of lifestyle that we had back in the fifties and sixties. Children today mostly stay inside of their air conditioned homes. When they come out to play their parents are with them, watching to be certain that they are safe. Most of the time they are not home, instead away participating in a host of organized activities. They are warned not to drink from water hoses because they might ingest dangerous chemicals that will make them sick. They wear shoes to protect their feet, kneepads to keep their shins from being skinned and helmets to insure that they will not endure head injuries. They make us look like free range renegades, children who should have been referred to CPS. The fact is that we were loved and cherished by parents who taught us how to fend for ourselves. We tackled bullies on our own and learned early on how to engage our creativity to occupy the hours. We truly believed that our childhoods were wondrous and we mostly invented the fun of each day with other kids rather than adults.

I suppose that the world is not quite as safe now as it was back then. The windows were always open and even though we did not see our mothers, they saw and heard us every minute. They had a neighborhood spy system that kept them continually informed. We were a different kind of gang than the ones that are now so dangerous. We took care of each other and learned how to share and be part of a team. Like Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn we were summer explorers who found great adventures in our own backyards with adults from one house to another silently and stealthily tracking our movements. There was an innocence back then that parents today can’t afford to assume is present and oh how wonderful it was.

I sometimes sit and watch my neighborhood from my living room window. It is mostly quiet even when the children are not in school. I hope that they are somehow having as much fun as we did and that they will have memories that are as happy as mine. There was something rather lovely about the utter simplicity of my youth that seems to be missing today. I understand why, but it saddens me to think that children have to face ugly truths and realities about which we were oblivious. Some progress is wonderful, but having to grow up without the freedoms that I so enjoyed seems to be a loss for the new generation of children. Perhaps they are okay and don’t even know what they are missing, but I for one often wish that I might go back for just one more summer day from the time when I was young, and I would like to take a youngster along to witness just how marvelous it was. 

Time To Clean House

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

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The words you speak become the house you live in. —Hafiz

I once knew a woman who was a downer. She reacted to virtually every situation with negativity. Chicken Little had nothing on her. According to the ideas she expressed the sky wasn’t just falling, it had already crashed to the ground and we were all in the midst of a great apocalypse. I ultimately reached a point at which I was no longer able to be around her. Just listening to her endless stream of complaining became like venturing into hell. It began to affect my own attitude so much so that I was suddenly imagining slights that really weren’t there. Her words literally transformed my feelings to such an extent that my happiness began to slip away. Even after I drew away from her it took a bit of time to recover, and I have often wondered what kind of disastrous effect her utterances were having on her children.

It’s difficult to find the refuge of silence in today’s world. There is chatter everywhere and it is not always of the healthy kind. There was a time when unkind or ugly words made one a social outcast, but there now seem to be no bounds that hold us back from saying anything that pops into our heads. We’ve got a late night television host who has strayed from joking about our president to uttering disgusting and controversial statements without much retribution. The same president who is the butt of those commentaries is well known and often applauded for his own repulsive insults. There is less and less of a tendency in our present society to hold people accountable for speaking in ways that were once deemed unacceptable. It has become a linguistic wild west that makes me cringe, because it demonstrates a lack of respect that should be insisted upon for each of us.

Certain language registers have traditionally been appropriate for specific times and places. We were all taught to be more formal at work or school, in church or during a public gathering. We reserve our most intimate words for our closest family members and friends, people in whom we trust. It is generally when we blur the lines between our casual speech and words that are more polite and carefully selected that we become misunderstood. Those who do not know us well may infer meanings that we did not intend, so we need to think before we speak. Sadly that is not as often the case as it used to be. Words are now bandied about without regard to their potential effect. The world now twitters and chirps like unthinking birds, creating a cacophonous noise that is having a negative effect on all of us. Somehow deep inside we sense that we need to make it stop but we just don’t know how.

My students who were being psychologically and verbally abused rarely reacted to the barrage of insults to which they were being subjected in a healthy manner. Instead they became withdrawn and angry. They sometimes ran away or, even worse, they began to emulate the behaviors that they witnessed on a daily basis. They evolved into bullies and fighters. They demonstrated a bravado that they hoped would disguise their own degradation and feelings of uselessness.

Our words are important. What we say to others not only affects them, but it also affects ourselves. We literally become the product of our thoughts and utterances, so we have to ask ourselves what kind of people we wish to be, and then act and speak accordingly. We can tell ourselves to make the best of our situations and to take control of our ways of reacting to the world, or we can become victims who continually complain. Free will is still very much ours.

I’d like to think that our present ways of talking so negatively with one another represent a phase that will soon pass. Somehow we find ourselves elevating individuals whose comments make us cringe over those who speak with gentleness and respect. We appear to prefer harsh words over those that are poetic and inspiring. I place my hope for the future in the knowledge that the speeches that we remember are uttered by good men and women who want to motivate us to be our best selves. We carve words from Abraham Lincoln or Martin Luther King into stone because they represent the kind of people that we all long to be.

Each of us has a voice. We have the power to be the change that we wish to see. We can turn off the noise with the flip of a switch. We can lead by example. It does not require us to take to the streets nor to become like those whom we abhor. It begins with our own words. We need to start by examining our own remarks and ridding them one by one of the kind of words that are hurtful to others. We can take back the power from people who would lead us with utterances that make us cringe. We do not need to be ugly to be strong. Let’s all focus on saying something nice. It’s time to clean house.

Why We Gotta Be So Mean?

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

troubled-teens-bully.jpgI truly believe that we humans are mostly good. Still I see far more signs of bullying and ugliness these days than ever before. A friend confided that her son was being mistreated by the girls in his class. He is a very sweet, almost naive soul who can’t quite understand what he may have done to deserve their ire. An acquaintance who is generally a very kind and sensitive person recently took the bait of societal anger and posted an article poking fun at a female political figure. It was quite negative in tone, and unnecessarily so. It’s only purpose was to be cruel and so it stunned me to see this normally good hearted individual becoming part of the negative crowd. It seems as though just living in the world today can quickly devolve into a blood sport.

There is a certain anonymity that comes with the impersonal nature of social media. Being part of a group that initiates callousness feels safe and without consequence. Bandying about words seems a harmless joke given the old saw that sticks and stones can break our bones, but words will never hurt us. Besides, don’t some of our leaders get by with verbal attacks with impunity? What does it really matter to vent our feelings? Shouldn’t people be mature enough to handle our truths?

Thus we find posts on Facebook that create confrontations and tweets on Twitter that seem to revel in their use of cleverly noxious words. There are those among us who have lost their sense of propriety and are even celebrated for their ability to get a rise from some unsuspecting soul. When such attacks occur frequently enough the inflicted pain can become unbearable and then depression and fear follow quite naturally.

We have tried to instruct our children in how to handle the barbs that may come their way. We teach youngsters to curb any tendencies to be bullies and to help those who are victims. Somehow none of our efforts ever completely take hold. No matter how hard we try the ugliness persists and at times even appears to grow, making life quite difficult for those who are the butt of mean spirited behaviors.

There are celebrities like Lady Gaga who pour themselves into the task of helping to reduce bullying. She has created a brigade of young folks who are trained to encourage and celebrate acts of kindness. The hope is that focusing on the positive natures of humans just might mitigate the more negative aspects of the way we treat one another. It’s a glorious idea and bears watching. God knows that we have nothing to lose by actively trying to improve the ways that we interact. Those who demonstrate concern should become our winners, our heroes, not those whose overbearing remarks and actions wound and leave scars.

I read about a school where the students are encouraged to look for anyone who is seemingly alone and welcome that person into a warm and friendly circle. The young people who have adopted this attitude are finding that they are learning as much about themselves as they are about their classmates. They report that everyone feels safer and better understood.

A little boy in a small town heard about a police officer who was killed in the line of duty. The newscasters spoke of how devastated the fellow officers were, so the child decided to donate his Wii to the station. He remarked that playing the games usually made him feel better even when he was sad and he hoped that the bereaved men and women would find solace in the activities that they would be able to share together.

There are good people everywhere who do the most remarkable things without ever expecting credit or even thanks for their efforts. I still recall a young woman who helped me to feel welcome on my first day of teaching in a new school. I can envision her beautiful smile and hear her encouraging words. Somehow she sensed my nervousness and did her best to assuage my fears. Her thoughtfulness made a discernible difference.

I can only imagine how much more wonderful the world would become if we all tried very hard to turn our temptations to be angry or insulting into opportunities to be caring. It takes so little to be nice but it really does turn the tables. Instead of answering anger with anger we might try showing patience and understanding. Love should always trump hate or as someone has said, “When they go low, we go high.”

I suppose that the most difficult situations are those in which we find ourselves facing someone who is blatantly obnoxious. We might simply ignore that person, especially if we sense that attempting to change him/her is impossible. Walking away is not cowardice. Sometimes it’s the bravest thing we might do.

We should also consider answering unpleasantness with warmth. Sometimes it is possible to disarm the negativity by countering it with understanding. I was involved in an incident in which a parent was loudly upbraiding a colleague at one of my schools. When I asked her to calm down she cursed me and told me to mind my own business. I quietly left the scene and came back with cold drinks, snacks and an invitation to come to the comfort of my office. The lady seemed stunned by my calmness and my small gesture of hospitality. Her demeanor became more relaxed as I told her that as a mother I understood her passionate concern for her child. I suggested that together we might be able to devise a plan that would help. Before long we were all partners in an effort to set things right. The ill feeling had disappeared on all sides.

It is doubtful that we will ever eliminate all of the cruelty that exists but we can make focused efforts to do our own parts to approach our daily lives with a sensitivity to the needs of those with whom we interact. We should strive to consciously compliment rather than criticize, smile rather than frown, find common ground rather than dwell on differences. We really don’t have to be so mean. We can change someone’s state of mind simply by remembering to be kind.