Bully

Fifth grade girls.

They’re great sometimes. But let’s face it. (I know I have faced it recently). Sometimes, it’s incredibly hard to be a parent to a fifth grade girl. What’s even harder? Being that girl.

Remember your days roaming the middle school halls? I don’t know about you, but in my school, as fifth grade and sixth grade girls, we spent most of the time in the guidance counselor’s office with staff trying to work out our never-ending problems. I’d come to school one day, search the halls for my best friend, only to find that she didn’t like me anymore.

Ouch.

Some other girl would smugly jump from behind my locker and say, “Did you hear?! Penelope doesn’t like you anymore!!!”

Why was smug girl smiling like that?

She excitedly tells you Penelope has a new friend or two and they had decided I needed to go. There wasn’t really a reason that anyone knew of. It was just my turn. My stomach would hurt. No one would talk to me, but they were talking about me. Everyone seemed to stare. I was the pick of the day, or week… or however long they’d choose. And then magically one day, they’d want to be my friend again. I’d get invited to the birthday sleepover. All was well. How could I say no? When my heart had been desperate for them to include me again? Now about that Kelly girl, they’d say, now looking over to her at the lunch table. OMG. She needed to go for sure….

To add insult to injury, this is the age that puberty begins to set in, or maybe it’s already in full swing. You have bigger boobs than everyone. You are taller than all the boys. Your daily worries consist of sweating through your T-shirt and, God forbid, having your period at school.

Fear.

Can you relate? I think you might. The reason I think you might is because I’m seeing, twenty some years later, that my daughter is navigating the same halls, facing the same worries, living virtually the same life that I did back then. It’s a new school and a new place and new faces, but it’s the same. Sort of. Only now, kids can bully each other on the Internet and by text, too. You don’t even have to be brave enough to hurt someone in person anymore. Whipperschnappers.

True story: a few weeks ago. My daughter, L, receives a text from her friend: “My dad wants to take us to the LEGO Movie later!”

L: “GREAT! What time?”

There is silence in the text world for a few hours. We go to a wrestling meet in the meantime. At the wrestling meet, L hands me her phone. She is white as a ghost. She looks like she’s been punched in the gut.

Me: “What’s the matter?” I ask anxiously. She has tears in her eyes. I read.

Text from a totally different girl: “GUESS WHO’S GOING TO THE LEGO MOVIE LATER WITH xxx?”

Next text: ME.

Next text: GUESS WHO’S NOT?

Next text: YOU.

Just like that. She was out.

My first thought was, you’ve got to be kidding me!!! It took all the self-control I could muster to not get up off my bleacher and go find that little punk and give her a lecture on kindness and social media. But, whatever. Instead, I took my daughter’s phone, put it in my pocket, pulled her over to me and squeezed her shoulder.

“I’m sorry, babe. That is awful. Why do you think she did that?”

She didn’t know. I didn’t either. Her two friends were normally really nice and funny. But today, L was the pick of the day. Even on the weekends. And fifth grade sucks.

I squeezed her tight as we sat on the bleachers together. We went to the concession stand and drowned our sorrows in popcorn and M&M’s. We started to laugh again. I decided that we’d have our own fun, she and I and our two other little minions. We’d go to the mall. We’d have lunch. We’d buy new jeans. We’d spend time loving each other and our time together. We’d hit the Aeropostale going-out-of-business sale. So, that’s what we did. I scored shoes for $3. But that’s kind of irrelevant.

I’m in my thirties now. I know now that this is all just adolescent crap. It is fleeting. I know now that there is so much life beyond those years. I know now that I survived the fifth grade horrors. I’m now a strong woman who knows what she wants. I know that I am loved by family, friends, and God. But, how could I tell my baby those things now and make her believe them? How could I make her understand when she is so sad? When she can’t see beyond this day into the future? She thinks there will always be a bully. It will always be this way. How can any parent make her child understand that this is not the end?

We decided that L would face them on Monday with confidence. She would tell them outright that what they did hurt her feelings. She could speak the truth in kindness while standing up for herself. But secretly, I was nervous for her. How would it turn out? Would they do something worse to her that day? Would they mock her for speaking her feelings on the matter? I felt like I was watching Y&R on a Friday. The suspense….

I can’t fix all her problems anymore. When she was little, it was a scrape on her elbow. It was a spilled bowl of soup all over my carpet. It was a messed up painting that was supposed to be her masterpiece. Back then, I could surround her little hand in mine over the paint brush and show her how to make that perceived mistake into a lovely tree in the background. I could pick up her bike, dust off her knees, clean and bandage her wounds, and send her back on her way sporting her little pink helmet.

She was little.

Now her wounds are different. The fix isn’t always easy.

These thoughts ate at my insides for a few days after her texting incident. I was out of my league here. She had told them on Monday that they had bummed her out, and the texts were not nice. Their response? “Oh.” Anti-climactic, right? No apologies. Just “Oh.” Just when I was feeling more helpless in my parenting life than ever, L  said this to me one night:

L: “Mom? No matter what happens out there, I always know I’ll be happy and safe at home.”

I felt like I’d been punched in the gut then… in a good way. For all the helplessness I had felt for her, for all the fear I had that she’d believe the current friend hype, for all the terror I had in my heart that I’d missed the boat in her early years to make her believe the truth….

She knows!!!!

She knew.

She was loved here.

I obviously don’t have all the answers. And fifth grade still scares the crap out of me, even watching from the bleachers. I’d like to skip it and get to the place where kids are nice to each other again… whenever that is. But I know if we skipped this time, I’d miss it, too. For example, have you heard the fifth grade band? Priceless.

While I can’t do much to fix her problems these days, I can love her.

Love them. Always tell them how God made them in His image and they are perfect in His sight. They are perfect in your sight. That there is grace for us when we are wrong, and that they will always be safe with you. You love them. You love them. You love them. They are always loved here, in this home. There is always forgiveness and a bigger world out there. You love them. Let it never stop.

May LOVE always conquer all – even the fifth grade.