It’s Just Not Fair!
Things have been going really well for Diva Girl at school lately. Her grades are good, she’s been happy, and she even got the Friendship Award last month. Not too shabby, considering how we started this year.
There was a small bobble a couple of weeks ago when she announced that Heather was “losing friends.” At first I thought that Heather was finally getting her comeuppance, and I’ll confess that I didn’t feel too badly for the Queen B. Turns out that Heather herself had decided it was time to lose some friends–seems she felt she just had too many, and needed to cull the herd. That part of the story made me roll my eyes. The part where Sabrina told her that it was ok if she didn’t want to be her friend anymore, that she understood and would be sad but not mad, brought tears to them. The fact that Sabrina made the cut didn’t really do much to change my opinion about the whole affair, but other than that incident, things have been so quiet that I stopped waiting for the other shoe to drop.
And then came the Christmas concert.
Guess who has a solo. For the third time in a row. And guess who isn’t very happy about it.
It’s a tricky situation. On the one hand, this isn’t Heather’s fault. For once, I don’t believe her manipulations have much to do with the situation. Unfortunately, that doesn’t change the fact that the music teacher has a habit of playing favourites, arbitrarily assigning the plum roles to the same students, year after year. It wouldn’t be fair under any circumstances, but in a primary choir it seems to be a particularly odious practice. If ever there was a time to allow every student who wanted the opportunity a chance to shine, this would be it. After all, it’s awfully hard to get across the message that you have to do the best with the gifts you have, even if sometimes that means shining in the chorus, when the kids see same people singled out every. single. time. As a teacher, I’d be very disturbed by what is going on here, even if my child wasn’t the one singing the “it’s not fair!” blues.
As a mom, I’m not sure what to do here. I do not want to be That Parent. You know, That Parent who is always complaining. The squeaky wheel parent who is convinced that without her vigourous defense, her child is destined to get the short end of the stick. That Parent who goes into to school and makes the teacher take the part away from Heather and give it to her child. That is exactly the parent Diva Girl wants me to be, though.
She wants me to “fix” this. And while I know that in her view, fixing it means telling the music teacher to give her a solo, I’m not sure that would really fix anything. Even if the teacher did bow to my will, it would simply be trading one injustice for another. And that’s not fair to anyone.
A Healthy Spirit of Competition
One of the perks of being in Grade Three is that you get to join teams. Real teams that go to actual events and compete.
Diva Girl went to the cross-country regionals today. It’s her first experience with being on a team and with athletic competition. I’ve spent a lot of time this past week assuring her that placing wasn’t the important thing, that the key was to enjoy the experience.
I’m glad to hear she was listening:
“At first we were running really hard, you know, competing against each other.But then we decided to stop and talk for a while to see if we wanted to be friends.”
She came in 77th. Her new friend was right behind her at 78. They were wearing daisies in their hair.
Untying the Gordian Knot
I’ve written before about the insidious nature of bullying, Heathers style. Bullying is bad enough when you’re dealing with an obvious aggressor, and this type of bullying is anything but obvious. The Heathers are masters of plausible deniability. They rely not on direct confrontation and physical intimidation, but on six degrees of separation and emotional manipulation.
While I’m sure that the Heathers have their own emotional damage and insecurities that lead them into this behaviour, these girls are not the angry, disenfranchised children on the playground. They are not acting out because they are lonely and unliked and retaliating against a social structure that excludes them. These are the popular, well liked girls–the ones who decide who gets invited, who gets to play, who matters. Unlike Butch, whose power stems from a reputation built on fear, Heathers build fear through a reputation based on power.
Obviously, the key to ending the cycle is to take that power away. But the subtle nature of the of the offenses, the difficulty in pinpointing the vicitmization–even in the face of a clear victim–and the generally positive perceptions of the bully, it can be an almost impossible situation to sort out. With teachers stretched so thin by weapons in the classrooms, violence in the schoolyard, and sex in the bathroom, it’s hardly any wonder that seeming non-emergent issues like “Heather won’t play with me” fall through the cracks. And on the parental end of things, well, who likes to hear that their child is not the little angel she’s perceived to be?
I’ll admit, I’ve been loathe to contact our Heather’s mother to hash this out. For one thing, I don’t really know her; she’s not one of the Playground Mommies. She doesn’t do drop off and pick up, so I don’t have the same casual, chat a bit in the grocery store familiarity with her that I have with other mothers in Diva Girl’s class. I do, however, know many of the other mothers, a fact that allowed me to stumble on the secret to untying this web of pwer and manipulation:
I talked to them.
In the course of just regular playground conversation, the saga of the Heather came out to a couple of sympathetic mothers. Mothers who then had conversations with their daughters about power and control and the politics of popularity. Mothers who made it clear that excluding Sabrina–or anyone else–just because Heather said so, was not ok. Mothers whose daughters left for lunch as part of Heather’s gang, and returned to school as individuals. Individuals who refused to be mean just because one girl said so.
In pulling these individual strings, I think I may have untied the stranglehold Heather had on the third grade. Since those conversations, Sabrina has had playmates. Playdates. Even a birthday party invitation. And now that the dynamic has changed from “If you want to play, you can’t play with Sabrina” to “If you want to play, you can’t exclude Sabrina,” my Diva Girl sparkles again.
Not that Heather took the loss of her power easily or graciously. There were a couple of days where she did, in fact, choose to be the odd girl out rather than suffer the indignity of playing with the Crybaby. But the other girls, with their mothers’ words fresh in their ears, simply left her to stew and joined in a game of King’s Court with Sabrina. By Friday, Heather had had enough of her own self-inflicted medicine: She apologized to Diva Girl and asked if she could play too.
Sabrina said yes. Because she understands that everyone should be allowed to join in.
Sticks and Stones
“Sticks and stones may break my bones, but names will never hurt me!”
Yeah. Any kid who has ever been subjected to some serious teasing knows that that is a load of crap. Names hurt. And while they won’t break your bones, they can break your spirit.
Sabrina is normally a child who sparkles. Her eyes shine, she has a ready grin, and she positively bounces with the excitement of being alive. Lately, though, she walks slowly, with her head down. The isolation is taking its toll on her. Plus, it seems that Heather’s stepped things up by adding teasing to the mix. Now, in addtion to whispers of “crybaby,” there are taunts of “pipsqueak” and mocking comments about the size of her shoes.
Yesterday she asked if we could move so that she wouldn’t have to go to this school anymore. I won’t say I haven’t considered it as an option. In fact, I’d spent some time online checking out real estate in other school districts just the other day. But having my resistant to change, unwilling to live more than walking distance from her grandparents, daughter ask if we could flee from Heather brought home to me just how bad this has gotten. It also made me realize that moving was not the answer. Sure, it would take Diva Girl out of this girl’s range, but there are always going to be Heathers; I could move her, but there’s on guarantee that she wouldn’t encounter another one at her new school. And it’s a given that this one would simply pick a new target and continue along her merry way. Because that’s what Heathers do. Unless we make a stand and put an end to them once and for all.
So I made an appointment with the principal. Given the unsatisfactory response I’ve had from the teacher, I was a little nervous about this meeting. But I’ve always been impressed by the school culture this principal has created, and we’ve always had a good working relationship in the past. Plus, our principal is a woman, and I was counting on the fact that she too was once a little girl on the playground would mean that she would understand what I was talking about.
Unlike Mr. G, the principal knew exactly what I was talking about. She listened to my concerns, agreed with me that it was a classic case of girl bullying, and promised to work with me to put an end to it. When I brought my concerns to the teacher, I felt condescended to and dismissed; in my meeting with the principal, I felt acknowledged and supported. The two meetings couldn’t have been more different. From taking the problem seriously, to exploring possible reasons why Heather continues to target Sabrina (reasons that didn’t focus on blaming the victim), to brainstorming possible solutions, the principal couldn’t have been more helpful.
I’ve always had a lot of respect for this woman. She wears her authority gently, but with an unshakeable confidence. She has an expectation for “her” school, and is willing to put in the effort to foster the positive environment of her vision. She’s the kind of principal the primary kids hug and the intermediate kids respect. She’s also incredibly down to earth, as evidenced by her advice for how to deal with the teasing: No airy fairy recommendations to rise above it all and turn the other cheek here. Oh no. Her advice? Show Diva Girl how to give as good as she gets. Teach her a couple of replies that will stop Heather and her cronies cold the next time they decide to start mocking her size. She truly is a wise woman.
So, tomorrow when Heather, who wears a ladies size 3, comments on Diva Girl’s child size 11 shoes, my girl is going to look her in the eye and respond, “You know, I’d rather be Cinderella than the ugly stepsister.” I sort of wish I could be there to see it.
Guiding Principles
I never thought while I was filling out the dozens of forms tonight that Brownie registration would turn into a lesson on equal rights. But you seize your teachable moments when they come, and Sabrina asking why she was enrolled in Guiding and not Scouts was nothing if not a teachable moment.
I thought long and hard before I decided to sign my daughter up for Sparks three years ago. First off, I had reservations about signing her up for any sort of structured group activity like this; it’s just really not who I am. Once I made the decision, I could have gone with Beavers; it certainly would have made sense since Emmett was a Beaver that year. But for me, and therefore Bree, the Boy Scouts were never really an option.
Part of it was the co-ed aspect. I agree with the Guiding philopsphy that girls need a place where they can be encouraged to shine. I’m not ready to send the Diva to an all girls school, but an all girls club? I think that’s a great idea. It might not be important to her self esteem now, but I’m hoping that in her pre-teen and teen years Guiding gives my daughter a place that encourages her to be a strong, positive woman, and to take that confidence out into the co-ed world.
That was only a part of the equation for me, though. And not even the deal breaker. The deal breaker was the different attitudes the Scouts and Guides have towards diversity and equality. I’m not comfortable with the Boy Scouts’ approach to “values based education.” While I respect the fact that the Boy Scouts and their supporters believe that they are acting in the very best interests of their children and society at large, when a group actively declares that members who, for whatever reason, are unwilling to conform to a specific, narrow view of the world are unwelcome, what they are doing is preaching exclusion and intolerance. And those are values I do not want my daughter internalizing.
So, on our walk home Sabrina and I talked about how people are different. They believe different things about the universe, they love different people, and they are all entitled to a place in this world regardless of their differences. I think that in light of Sabrina’s recent difficulties at school, this was a particularly timely conversation to have. As Sabrina put it, “everybody should be allowed to play. That’s why I’m in Guides.”
Of Heathers and High Roads
The problem with girl bullying is that the aggression is rarely on display. It’s easy to spot the classic bully; while he may be subtle enough not to conduct a playground shakedown in front of the teacher, his actions are rarely left as a matter of perception. He’s generally very up front about his motivation and tends to take a hands on approach with his victims. Not so with the Heathers. Unlike Butch, a Heather is rarely up front, and she never gets her hands dirty. Her brand of mean is best accomplished at a distance and under the radar. It depends not on direct confrontation, but on a far more subtle campaign of terror that is based almost completely on perceptions. Whispered insults and secret clubs, not fists, are her weapons of choice, and the damage, while just as real as a black eye, is often far less visible.
When it is, though, it’s heartbreaking. I think I would have rather come out from my talk with Mr. G to see a battered and bloody Diva Girl than the beaten, dejected child who was sitting in line, oblivious to the he happy chaos of the playground swirling around her. She’s the crybaby, but I was the one near tears as I watched her sit with her head down and her shoulders slumped, desperately trying to keep the hurt in and not care that Heather was making it a point to stand right beside her, deep in conversation with 3 other little girls in their class.
Sabrina wasn’t the only one feeling defeated on the playground. My meeting with their teacher left me feeling angry and frustrated. To say Mr. G was less than understanding about the problem would be an understatement. Mr. G “doesn’t see a problem.” He doesn’t see a problem because “Heather and Sabrina really don’t interact as far as he can tell.” And, to top it all off, he “can’t do anything unless Sabrina brings the problem to me herself.”
Yeah. Clearly Mr. G was never a little girl. And possibly, given that last statement, never even a kid. Of course you don’t see it! That’s sort of the point of bullying–it doesn’t make it hurt any less just because the scars are on the inside. And of course they don’t have anything to do with each other; that’s the way this scenario works. The entire point is to have nothing to do with Sabrina–to make her as much of an outsider as possible. Which brings us to point number 3. She’s already been labeled the crybaby. Now he wants her to be the tattletale too? And what exactly is she supposed to tattle about? “Jenny won’t play with me?” I know what my response to that would be.
I walked out of the school frustrated by the teacher’s utter lack of empathy and understanding of the issue, but bouyed by the fact that there was at least one glimmer of hope in this whole mess: Sabrina’s budding friendship with Madyson. When I went in, Sabrina and Madyson were together, catching up on their weekends; when I came back out, Bree was on her own and Heather had Madyson. I don’t know what happened in the five useless minutes I spent inside discussing the situation with the teacher, but I can guess. Social pressure is a hard thing to stand up to, even when you’re an adult. As a child, it can be near impossible. And it’s just human nature that when the Alpha in a group invites you in, you accept. I don’t blame Madyson for crumbling under the pressure; I blame Heather for applying it.
I’ve been trying to to teach Diva Girl about taking the high road through this, but when my daughter ran to me and buried her face in my back, clinging to me like a 4 year old on the first day of school, I cracked. As the bell rang, I bent down and whispered, “She’s a vicious little snot.” It wasn’t much, and it certainly wasn’t mature of me, but the grin that spread across Sabrina’s tear stained face told me that for that moment at least, it was enough. That’s all that really matters to me right now.
Whoever Said “Thank Heaven For Little Girls” Never Tried Being Friends With One
I’m in love. After yesterday’s date, I’m absolutely smitten. I think she had me at “hello.” All bubbly and excited to be hanging out. And when she took Sabrina’s hand and started skipping down the street, well, I was gone. I’ve never had a mom crush before, but I’ve got it bad for Madyson
She’s everything I ever hoped for in a friend for Diva Girl. She’s polite, patient, kind, and has a mind of her own. She pleased and thank you’d her way through the three hours she was at our house. Not in an Eddie Haskell kind of way, but in the genuinely well mannered way that I hope my daughter behaves when she’s the guest. She included the baby in their games and didn’t seem to be begrudging her presence as she did so And she and Sabrina managed to cycle through most of the toys in the playroom–with the odd Arthur break thrown in just to mix things up–without a hint of argument. She was willing to compromise and play what Sabrina wanted at times, but was also able to stand up for herself and insist that they play her games too.
My heart melted as I stood outside the playroom door and listened to them declare their best friendness over a game of Mousetrap. And then it shattered as I overheard Madyson tell Sabrina about what Heather had been up to today.
It seems that Sabrina’sarch-nemesis, we’ll call her Heather ( I have before, because it fits), continues to live up to her namesake. It’s not enough that she’s not friends with Sabrina (not something I want to happen anyway); apparently, no one else is supposed to be friends with her either. At least, that’s the impression Madyson got when she and her minions cornered her on the playground and had the following conversation:
Heather: You don’t actually like Sabrina, do you?
Madyson: Yes. Sabrina’s my friend.
H: Well we hate her. She’s a crybaby.
M: I like her. I think she’s nice. And funny.
H: Well you don’t have to play with her. You can run away from her you know.
M: I want to play with her.
That was it, except for the fact that they spent the rest of recess watching the two girls at play, making their displeasure known.
This is classic girl bullying at its finest. The whispering campaign, the exclusion, the drive towards complete isolation, and the utter unwillingness to confront the victim head on (remember, it was only a couple of days ago that Heather told Sabrina she wanted to be her friend.) are all hallmarks of female bullying.
Now, much though I’m not ok with them calling my daughter names, I’ve gotta give then the crybaby one. She is a crier. It’s something we’ve been working on, and she’s doing a lot better with it, but it’s a reputation that she’s earned. And one they want her to keep–apparently winding Diva Girl up by teasing her about her small size (she’s a head and shoulders smaller than the other kids) is somewhat of a sport at school. I’ve explained to Sabrina that they’re actively trying to make her cry, and she’s been doing a great job of just brushing it off this year. But that doesn’t make it ok for them to try. And it certainly doesn’t mean that this little girl gets to decide that my daughter can’t have friends.
I’m not a reactionary parent, but I’ll be speaking to Teacher McDreamy on Monday. This has been going on since kindergarten, and it’s time for it to end. We did the “”just be nice to her and she’ll come around.” We moved on through “just ignore her.” and have dabbled in “stand up to her and she’ll back down.” Through it all, Heather has continued on her campaign of emotional torture. In Kindergarten, it was teasing that Sabrina wouldn’t be going Grade 1 beacuse she was too little–a claim that had my gullible girl in tears more than once. Grade One was the year that Heather decided no one should attend Sabrina’s birthday party–and only 2 of the 6 invitees actually showed up. Grade Two was quite simply hellacious. A daughter who was heartbroken, picked on, and desperate for social interaction.
I don’t believe this situation is going to get better. I don’t believe this little girl is going to change. I don’t believe, even if Sabrina has finally found friends of her own and the strength to put Heather in her place, that this little girl should get away with what she’s done. And I don’t intend to let her.
Cautiously Optimistic
Watching the playground dynamics this morning was an exercise in maternal heartbreak. I stood there, powerless, watching Sabrina once again on the outside of the crowd. I suppose it could have been worse; focussed as she was on rooting through her backpack she didn’t seem to notice that literally every other girl in her class was engaged in a rowdy game of Kings Court just a few feet away. But I did. And as she ran off to play alone on the climbers I wondered again, why doesn’t she get it? Why doesn’t she seem able to see or negotiate the playground politics.
If Bree were a shy kid, a quiet kid, a kid who did not thrive on social activitiy, I’d understand. I’d even encourage her loneresque ways. Lord knows that I’m no social butterfly. But the problem is, that Sabrina is. She loves people and generally hates to be alone. She’s never happier than when she has someone to talk to and play with. Which is why I don’t understand why she has such a problem figuring out the social dynamics of the schoolyard.
Much though I’d like it to be, it can’t all be Heather’s fault. I certainly think Miss Queen Bee has contributed to the problem, but I’m willing to acknowledge that she’s not really the root of it all. Sabrina doesn’t seem to “get” social codes. Today is a prime example: Every other girl in her class was playing a game together, and yet instead of joining in and making a place for herself in the group, she chose to stay away. She chose to cast herself as an outsider, even though I know that is the role she hates most. And I realize that it was possibly because the thought of being rejected was just too much to bear (an idea that breaks my heart), but I don’t think that was it. I think it honestly didn’t occur to her that to make connections with these girls, she should play king’s court, even though she would rather be on the climber. Clearly that’s something we’re going to have to work on more.
There was one victory in the day, though. After yesterday’s “Maybe I’ll be your friend” bombshell, Sabrina and I had yet another talk about what friendship is really all about. Today, my Diva Girl told the Queen Bee that she could be her friend or she could not be her friend, but maybe wasn’t an option. I’m really, really proud of her; last year, she would have simply fallen in line with Heather’s attitude and done anything she could think of to win her over. Even more surprising, Heather has apparently decided to be her friend, and spent all three recesses playing with her today. I’ll admit, I don’t like Heather, but I’m glad for my daughter’s sake. But I’m still gonna wait and see what tomorrow brings before I start jumping on any bandwagons.
Giddy With Power
I don’t know what a “sixer” is, but apparently Diva Girl is one.
She assures me that this a Very. Big. Deal. She’s in charge of all the Kelpies (Sprites are “so last year”). She gets to delegate the responsibilities, count the dues, and give out the instructions. She even has an assistant.
She’s in her glory.
I’m thrilled for her. She’s usually so much younger than her peers, emotionally as well as in age. I think it’s great that as a second year Brownie she’s one of the “Big Girls.” And even more fabulous that she’s been given some responsibility to go with the status. This is a very good thing for the Diva Girl.
I can’t wait to watch her shine.