It's my problem
I learned an important lesson from one of my daughters today.
"Sometimes my problems are MY problems."
The setting: we were walking with a group of about 140 students for about a mile for a field trip. The group consisted of 6th, 7th and 8th grade students. My kids are in 6th grade and are slightly small in comparison to some of these kids.
A and I were walking together when she pointed out a girl who had told her she would "beat you up and smash your head into a computer." Nice. I leaned over to my daughter and asked if this girl needed to be tripped. "No, mom. Sometimes my problems are MY problems."
I guess she told me.
It takes everything I have not to smack these kids who are mean to my kids and their friends simply because they're smaller, nerdier or because they like their teachers and like school. I don't really want to hurt them. But I do want the bullying to stop. I want the nastiness to go away.
But I can't make it go away. I can't wish away their sadness. I can't yell at those kids and suddenly make them nice.
And I probably shouldn't trip them when they're walking down the hall. Or say any of the things that float around my head. Or do any of the things that come to mind......
"Sometimes my problems are MY problems."
The setting: we were walking with a group of about 140 students for about a mile for a field trip. The group consisted of 6th, 7th and 8th grade students. My kids are in 6th grade and are slightly small in comparison to some of these kids.
A and I were walking together when she pointed out a girl who had told her she would "beat you up and smash your head into a computer." Nice. I leaned over to my daughter and asked if this girl needed to be tripped. "No, mom. Sometimes my problems are MY problems."
I guess she told me.
It takes everything I have not to smack these kids who are mean to my kids and their friends simply because they're smaller, nerdier or because they like their teachers and like school. I don't really want to hurt them. But I do want the bullying to stop. I want the nastiness to go away.
But I can't make it go away. I can't wish away their sadness. I can't yell at those kids and suddenly make them nice.
And I probably shouldn't trip them when they're walking down the hall. Or say any of the things that float around my head. Or do any of the things that come to mind......
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