Beyond the South End

Bullies Among Us

By now the South End kids are into their new school year. The newness of different schoolbooks has worn off. Being back with all their friends again is fun. Memories are being made day by day. Schools across the country are following suit. Education is a priority—a must, especially in this technological age.

One thing that doesn’t change unfortunately is the presence of bullies. We had them back in the 40s and today they are even worse what with new ways to bully available via the “social media” on the internet and hateful “texting.” Bullying has gone “viral.” In some cases it’s so bad that parents are forced to relocate their child into another school or even to resort to home-schooling. There have even been cases of child suicide because of bullying. Steps are being taken, finally, to combat this horrible part of trying to succeed in school while being constantly bullied.

We all know the child who has a speech impediment, perhaps because of a hearing problem; or a child with thick glasses; an overweight child; a child with cerebral palsy; or other kids who for one reason or another must attend school in a wheelchair. Then there are those kids who are mentally challenged but not so much that they are put into a “special class.” They may have Attention Deficit Disorder or Dyslexia. All of these kids are automatically singled out for ridicule; become the butt of jokes; are the last picked for a team or a class group.

In the 40s in the South End we had our bullies too. We didn’t have to contend with the internet slurs and hateful texting messages however. We tended to do our bullying on the playground away from the eyes of the teachers. Teachers didn’t supervise recess time in those days. You basically had to fend for yourself. Teachers didn’t interfere unless they heard a sudden scream or someone obviously crying in pain.

We had one kid in our class who was big for his age. He, like the kids above was always “last picked.” In those days we weren’t tested for ADD or dyslexia. Those kids were just classed as simply less able to learn, or of lesser mental ability. In other words, “just plain dumb.”

This boy was a “big galoot” to us and I’m afraid we called him a “big dummy” more than once. He probably had one or more of the above conditions. In any case, he became a bully himself because that was the only effective way he knew of communicating.

When I began teaching school I promised myself that I wouldn’t let any child in my class be ridiculed. One child in my first teaching job stands out in my mind. His name was Robert. He had cerebral palsy, was very tiny for the fifth grade, and wore braces that he could barely manage to lift up off the floor in order to get around. But his one big asset was his big broad smile.

Surprisingly, I had no problems with the other children in the class as they interacted with Robert on a daily basis. They had all grown up with him and he was accepted as one of them. And there was nothing wrong with his mind, in spite of his slow speech patterns. I like to think his smile made up for the way he was born.

He lived with his father and his sister in a mobile home. There was no mother present. His father would send Robert to school in a taxi every day as he couldn’t manage on the bus with the other kids. There were no “special” buses in those days.

His best friend, Joel, also in my class, was his personal lieutenant. At fire drills, Joel took over the care of Robert, seeing that he got out of the building with the rest of the kids. When the kids played baseball at recess time or at lunchtime, Joel walked Robert to the outfield, gave him a glove, and expected him to do his part in winning the game. They knew he probably wouldn’t be able to catch a fly ball, nevertheless they encouraged him. I can still see his knock knees pressed together to hold himself up, his glove held up proudly and expectantly, and most of all, that beaming face. He thoroughly enjoyed being a part of his “team.”

Robert’s one big problem, because of muscle coordination, was his writing. In those days, cursive writing was part of the curriculum. We taught the old Palmer Method, which I’m sure you remember if you are of my age. Because of school policy, I wasn’t supposed to pass him if he didn’t perform up to fifth grade level. But by the last quarter of school he really made an effort to improve his writing and proudly displayed his “C” star on the bulletin board to all his friends. And they all congratulated him. That’s how they were with him.

I kept for a long time a poem he wrote about wanting to walk and run and play like other children; and it was then that I realized that some of that big smile was only a front. But the poem was done quite well for a child of his age and I dearly hope that he became a poet or a writer later on in his life.

In the old South End school days, we dealt with bullying the best we could. If it became too bad, usually the parents got together and tried to iron out a solution among them. Authorities weren’t involved for the most part. As kids, things seemed to get straightened out over time. We made peace where we could and went on. Changing schools was not a solution because there wasn’t another school to go to. No parent would have tried to school their child at home either. The socialization involved in school days was very important then. Isolation was never an answer.

One day when the folks still lived in the South End, I was walking home from a summer job, probably at the Courier or Newberrys Five and Ten Cent Store. I was out of high school by then and working between semesters at college I didn’t have a car yet, which was why I was walking home to the South End.

I came upon the South End bully I described above at the bottom of the Suffolk Street hill. I hadn’t seen him since we’d both been kids in elementary school. He had changed. He was a soft-spoken, gentle, polite, grown man at that point. He’d had to grow up I fast I think because I don’t think he made it through a week of high school with the rest of us.

We shook hands and he told me about his job. We exchanged “hi’s” for our respective families and went on our separate ways. I resumed my college experience shortly after that and I never saw him again. I often wondered how he made out in life. I expect that the South End was basically his world. I don’t know if he’s still with us but if he is, here’s a big hello to you. Hello, Charlie.

Thanks for listening.