I can remember an incident of bullying when I was in 6th grade like it was yesterday

[NNN0LHI]

We were on the playground before school began and some shitheads were making fun of an overweight kid because of the clothes he was wearing. He was a big kid from a poor family and he was forced to wear what looked like his fathers old work clothes to school. His gray work pants had patches on them and had wear spots but they were always clean. His name was Dale Hensley. I can see his face right now.

It didn't seem to bother him that much to be bullied about it but I bet it did.

I didn't confront the bullies head on because there were too many of them. But I made a mental note and
never forgot who the bullies were. And after that every chance I got I would pay them back. When I found out one of them had a fear of something I used that on them. Found out that one of them(the ringleader), was terrified of snakes. He found a garter snake in his book locker for a week straight. Took me years, but I paid them all back in different ways. Every single one of them.

And I never did forget about that. Not one second of it.

Don

[ejpoeta]

1. I was picked on most of my childhood.

At one school I remember a kid spitting on me. I was picked on for my clothes, for my glasses, for my hair. It didn't matter. I had a kid throw all my books down the hall from my locker. It was awful at the time. Looking back I have the perspective, but in that time this was my whole world as I spent most of my time at school. I loved learning, but I dreaded school. Kids from my own team in gym would take the ball from me. When I went to catholic school it wasn't any better. They picked on my clothes even though we had uniforms. Laughed at me because I didn't know what the designers were. They were better at getting away with it and were more subtle about it. Not that anything would have been done. I was told to ignore them. Sticks and stones can break your bones.... I still hear that today. But it can hurt. My mom died when I was 12. Imagine THAT on top of being picked on?? I mean she was sick for 5 years before she died... I was a depressed kid needless to say. Now I don't think much about it, but my kids have experienced it. My oldest is very independent and has ADHD and has had a lot of problems. But she dresses different. I told her she had two choices. Be who she is and expect to be picked on or conform and still face that possibility. I am proud that she stayed who she is. I love who she is and would hate to see anyone try to take that from her. So far she is staying true to herself. I know it isn't always easy, and I will ask her about it. She seems to be ok.

[honeylady]

2. I had to change schools I was bullied so bad

The most popular boy in school, who was also my neighbor and one of best friends' brother, made a pass at me and I turned him down. Later that week he beat me up right in front of the school bus driver (who did nothing to stop it). My mother found out and threatened to have him arrested if he ever touched me again. So he didn't touch me. He just had every kid in school, including all of my friends, turn their backs on me to the point no one would speak to me and people would insult me when walking down the hall in school. It was a defining moment in my emotional health. I became withdrawn and terribly shy with really bad self-esteem. It took years to get over it.

[DetlefK]

3. I once bullied a girl at that age.

Somehow I never found the appropriate time to apologize.

That was 20 years ago. I don't know if she still remembers it, but I do and I'm sorry to this day.

[Javaman]

5. I can bet you she remembers. nt

[Javaman]

4. In another thread I wrote...

that I was virtually picked on every single day of my school years. From the first day of grade school to the last day in high school.

The only reason I went out for sports was so I wouldn't have to ride the bus home at the end of the day. That ride was hell on wheels. It was if it was a the Roman forum on wheels. The bus driver, in those days, didn't give a shit what happened. There was no end to the torment.

I ran track. In my school track was for the misfits. The people who couldn't make the cut on other teams. We sort of all accepted each other and tried as best as we could to watch each others backs.

It was the only peace and quiet I got during school. Well, that and art class. Running was my salvation. It was meditative for me. It was just me. No plays to run, to strategy per say, just running. It saved my sanity.

I hated school, I loved learning but hated hated school. My parents would always wonder why I didn't so better. It's hard to pay attention in class when the sociopath behind you is constantly threatening you. Or to beat the shit out of you if you don't let them cheat off of you.

I stopped using my locker. It was constantly being broken into and my stuff stolen with little notes left behind by the sociopaths who teased me and threatened me.

did I do anything about it? what could I do in a school that was run by the former football couch turned principle? Complaining back then only brought more wrath upon you. I was a skinny kid with a "handicap" that wasn't readily apparent. But once it was known, that was that. The abuse began and never ended until I got out of high school.

[qb]

6. Bullies drove me into the closet.

After being called "faggot" and "sissy" in 1st grade and tormented on the playground throughout elementary school, I learned how to act "like a man". I pulled if off very successfully, and unhappily for decades.