When you least expect it . . .

    My kids have been back in school for just over a week and The Scribe is already having a hard time.  It's a heart breaker.                     
    Remember my blogs about the bully?

How to Beat a Bully

The Scribe Wasn't Kidding

Well, things have gotten hard again.  

  Note: I'm not a bully advocate, I just thought this was funnier than ketchup on a P B & J sandwich. 

    On Monday, The Scribe came home from school crying.  

    "She said all those means things again," The Scribe sobbed.  "She said our family is poor.  She called you stupid.  She said my little brother runs around naked."

    The Scribe was supposed to have a play date with a new girl in her class, but The Bully wouldn't have any of that.  She told the entire class terrible things about The Scribe and our family.  She said only losers hang out with The Scribe.  No one (not even the girl we'd planned a playdate with) wanted to play with The Scribe after that.

    So, at recess, a few kids surrounded my kid in the back field behind the portables.  The main bully (who used to be The Scribe's best friend) laughed and joked, saying how much they think The Scribe sucks.  

    I'd gotten my girl fancy clothes and hoped that would help give her confidence, but they were just clothes after all.

    The Scribe told me that when it happened, she didn't cry on the outside.  She said she acted tough even as she died inside.  "We don't want you going to lunch," The Bully said.  "If you show up in that lunch room, we'll make your life even worse.  We hate it when you're in the same room with us.  We hate it that you're in our cl . . . cl . . .   What's the rest of that word?"

    "Ass?" The Scribe asked and everyone screeched with laughter.

    "Hey, have you seen those glasses?"  It had turned out so well, The Bully became a repetitive meanie!  "If I say, gl . . .  gl . . .  What's the rest of that word?"

    (Later as The Scribe relayed this story, she explained that when you add an "S" to a bad word, it makes it even worse!  I put that in my pocketbook of useful facts--I never knew that.)

    So, back to the story, The Scribe stood as the other girls circled and laughed.  She was just about to give in and cry.  They'd tricked her into saying a bad word, then wanted her to say it again, BUT IN PLURAL FORM!

   She thought about how much she wanted lunch and the fact that the kids said she couldn't go eat.  She thought of everything and almost broke down.  That's when an angel walked from the baseball diamond to their left.

    Now this "Angel," is one of the most popular girls in the 4th grade.  She has light blonde hair.  She's tall and beautiful.  She commands respect.  And as she walked closer to the bullies everyone hushed.

    "It's Sarah," they said as if Aphrodite herself visited from Olympus.  "What's she doing here?" 

    Before I go on with this story, let me take you back several years, to when The Scribe started kindergarten.

    I'd pulled up to school pretty early.  I refused to let The Scribe go alone, so we went to the playground and she played before the bell rang.  A bunch of kids crowded into the play area.  Some were big, some small.  They all had an excitement for life that can't be bought.  

    I smiled at them, until I noticed one girl off by herself.  She had light blonde hair, like liquid gold.  She wore darling glasses, the kind that framed her eyes perfectly.  But even though tons of kids swarmed around, she seemed sad.  She had no friends.  

    I wanted to do something, say something.  But at that same instant, The Scribe must have noticed the girl too, because she moved from the group of kids she'd played with.  She went and played with the gorgeous girl, The Angel who hadn't made friends yet even though she'd be one of the most popular kids in 4th grade years later.  

    Her mother told me how much The Scribe's actions meant to her.  We actually became good friends.  "You did a good thing," I told The Scribe after school that day.

    "It's not a big deal," she'd said.  "She just needed a friend like everyone else." 

  

    So, that's why The Angel's actions meant so much to me on Monday.  Those bullies surrounded The Scribe.  They made her say class without the "cl!"  They said her little brother likes being naked! 

    The Angel walked over, pushed them aside and stood between them and my girl.  "Knock it off!" she yelled.  "I've been friends with The Scribe for years.  She's a nice kid and you need to leave her alone!"

    It makes me want to cry as I write this, because the main bully (let's call her "El Toro") looked at The Angel.  "NO one will want to be friends with you after this! No one!"

    "I don't care," The Angel said.  "I'd rather do what's right.  Once, a long time ago, The Scribe played with me when no one else would.  It meant a lot to me.  I'll do the same thing for her now."

     "Even if you lose all your other friends?" El Toro asked.

     "Even then."  Angel nodded.  She grabbed The Scribe's hand, squeezed it hard and they walked into the lunchroom together.  

    I went to school yesterday, just to check on The Scribe (when she didn't know I was there).  You know what I saw?  She sat on the grass, all alone with The Angel.  Those two bully-haters were grinning, having the best time ever and laughing up a storm.

    "She's an awesome girl," I told The Scribe last night.

    "You know," The Scribe said, "I never thought it was a big deal that I played with her in kindergarten, but now I understand.  When you don't have anyone, having a friend means even more than it normally does."

     "What are you gonna do about The Bully?" I asked.

    "I don't know," she shrugged, "but I did realize one thing.  Without her I wouldn't have gotten to be such good friends with The Angel again."

    So, The Scribe learned an important lesson.  Everything happens for a reason.  Bad can turn good, good can get better, and it can all happen when you least expect it.