My six-year-old daughter, Ellie, has been dealing with a bully on the bus.
At first we decided to use this as a teaching tool: to teach her to stand up for herself. She did as we suggested and said sat with a friend near the
driver. But
one day, after her
friend got off the bus, the bully came and sat next to her. Ellie said
no. She pulled Ellie's hair. Ellie said no and called out to the bus
driver, but he didn't hear her because it was so noisy. Then she pulled
her hair again, hard. Ellie said no and called for help again, but
nothing happened.
She ran off the bus, sobbing, into my arms. And much, much more information came out.
Like how this happened more than once last year. Like how this girl was
talking about her to the other girls. Like
how this girl told Ellie to give her one of her backpack charms or she
would pull her hair again. (Ellie said no, then the girl "got really
angry" and pulled her hair again.)
So I spent an afternoon holding my sobbing six year old daughter, as she tells me of how it hurt when this girl pulled her hair, but it really
hurt when she said mean things about her. Wiping away her tears as she
asks "Why?", trying to explain something that is so beyond
comprehension. Wiping away my own tears when she asks how she is supposed to treat someone like that.
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