by M. Reed

Created on: September 05, 2008

Dignity

Dignity consists not in honors,
but in knowing we deserve them.
-Aristotle-

I was six. He was eight. That's all: just fourteen years on this earth between us. Yet they added up to a rite of passage nonetheless.

I was new to the neighborhood and he was the resident bully, a task he took to with zeal, not only assaulting me daily, but convincing my parents he hadn't. I was trapped, so the indignity lasted months.

It ended when I'd finally had enough. I lured him behind the house, then brained him with a mop I noticed my mother kept conveniently by the door. She was mortified, as was my dad. But it was a good plan, a clean blow and a perfect result: blood everywhere and stitches galore. I consider the whipping my father dished out for my trouble an honor richly deserved, and can honestly say it is one I would take again, if not with relish, then with grit. For me, that was the price of dignity, and it therefore was nothing compared to the fear and degradation I'd known until the moment that mop met his brow.

That was many years ago. Later, I found myself parenting six, all of whom sooner or later became teens. I came into the lives of these children four years after their father's death, and I wore many hats: cheerleader, tutor, driver, cook and, when daylight faded, middle school basketball coach. These were roles to which I often brought more hubris than wisdom, more frustration than patience, but always tried to bring more faith than fear.

During my tenure, though brief, I learned many things. I learned hair pulling incredulity is not the best answer to what one might later learn is simply normal behavior. I learned to never assume either version is true when two kids get into a fight. And I learned the excuses kids use to taunt one another are endless; they do it to youngsters with glasses; they do it to those who can't read; they even do it to fatherless kids because they're just that. And the worst of it happens right beneath our noses.

School is a difficult place, to say the least, a place where ridicule rules as cascading hormones wash confidence down the drain. It's a place where insults are dished out for practice, threats are made for fun and taunting is a spectator sport. It's where cliques form and simple words take on malignant meanings, meanings that break hearts forever. In short, it's a breeding ground for bullies.

Yes, I know what the experts say: this is normal; children are very sensitive; we all had to face adolescence; and on...and on...and

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