I have a stunningly fantastic child. Actually, I have two of them, but this post is just about one of them. Oh stop it, nobody’s gonna be damaged by this. They’re not allowed to read my blog and not just because I have a potty mouth.
Stunningly Fantastic Child the First has a few flaws that as a proud mother I overlook on a daily basis, not the least of which is her inability to protect herself from junior high school bullying by being as weird as possible. For example, every year she opts to dress as a literary character for Halloween, and as an English teacher I should be pressing a hand to my heart while beaming. But she picks characters no one has EVER heard of then gets upset when no one knows what her costume is supposed to be.
Last year, we worked it out so she could be Hermione Granger, and she actually looked shockingly like the character. No one got it wrong except a drunk man who gave out rolls of Scotch tape he’d stolen from work, so he doesn’t count. However, when she dragged the costume out of the storage closet to wear it to the mall when the next movie came out, I had to put my foot down. She was upset with me, and I still don’t think she understood why I would not let her do that to herself. How do you lovingly tell an innocent child that she has a future of girl-on-girl hate crimes and cutting ahead of her if her fifth grade friends see her in the food court dressed as a girl wizard?
So this morning, when I reminded her that she needed to straighten up her bedroom before her sleepover tonight, she said words to me that I will treasure until my dying day: “Can I put my wizard chess set in your office? I don’t want Amy to see it.” A great weight had been lifted from my weary shoulders…my child was probably going to live through high school.
I do have to say to the kind and intelligent readers of this blog who would like to suggest that I should foster her sense of independence and relish in her quirkiness, “Have you been to a cluster-fuck that is a public high school lately?”
Forget the 80s movies where the jocks and cheerleaders walk past the nerds’ table and fling a French fry or two, those days are long gone. Now it’s cyberbullying and Facebook posts that go out to thousands of “friends” instantaneously. It’s sexting, where a picture gets snapped in the girls’ locker room and it’s sent out to hundreds of cell phones amongst the student body before the victim even has her shirt buttoned. Stuffing the science club president in his own locker? Amateur hour. Try any screenshot from the popular video game, Bully: Scholarship Edition.
No, with the teensiest sense of shame that I’ve been able to instill in my child, I’ve just increased her chances of living to become an adult. There will be plenty of time to play Harry Potter dress-up as she’s trying to prevent her own child from wearing his Power Rangers costume in public.
Lorca Damon 
Where i come from, i guess the culture is very different. The bullying only happens among the poorer classes. If you are placed in one of the good classes, everyone is everyone’s friend. Basically, there are no jocks, or geeks, or freaks, or the popular kids. And i’m glad it was like that, and will always be like that, even with the presence of technology and its influence over the younger generation. As far as im concern, i do not have to worry if my child gets pushed around as long as he/she does averagely well in their studies.
Despite internet anonymity, I would love to know what heavenly fairy land Jeyna lives in–so I could send my dear grandchildren there! Back in the old days –when I was in school and dinosaurs roamed the earth–, we didn’t have bullying either because we were rigorously tracked. We had almost no classes with the general population so we didn’t know each other. good luck to Lorca’s children.
LOL! Come to my country, Malaysia. But i doubt you wanna send your grandkids to the schools here, education isnt all that.
Did the drunk guy really give out Scotch tape? Because that’s wicked funny.
I grew up two doors down from a mid-level mob boss. One Halloween, we knocked on his door and woke him up (at 4:00 PM!). He looked at us and rubbed his eyes. We had to let him know it was Halloween and not some wicked hangover byproduct. “Oh. Uhhh, I’ll be right back.”
It was only after we got home that we realized that he gave us Halls cough drops.
I swear I thought you were going to say he came back and gave you guys all bullets. Or at least, singles that he earned at the dog track! Let’s see, what other stereotypes can I inflict here… LOL