Picket Fence Post

 Item #1:  Call it ‘Harassment’ Not ‘Bullying’

What if, just for kicks, we stopped referring to the on-going harassment and humiliation of children — which interferes with their ability to function in school — as “bullying,” and, instead, started calling it what it really is, which is “harassment?”

After I read several pieces in today’s Boston Herald about children being subjected to physical and emotional harassment in school which left them feeling unsafe and unable to concentrate – along with school officials, by and large, not doing much to stop the behavior – I kept  wondering why it’s not simply called “harassment.” The word “bullying” seems insufficient. As does the word “teasing,” which I’ve also heard invoked to refer to this subject.

One Herald article, entitled “Bullied kids ‘helpless’ against attacks” started thusly:

“Hundreds of angry parents, worried teachers and even terrorized kids are reporting ugly episodes of brutal bullying at schools across Massachusetts as the heartwrenching case of Phoebe Prince continues to expose a painful nerve.

The abuse — detailed in e-mails and phone calls to the Herald – is emotionally jarring, often physical and spreading like a merciless virus in cyberspace.

Kids tell of being forced to drink toilet water, getting pummeled on the bus and seeing themselves ridiculed for all to see on Facebook.

. . . A Boston Latin High School parent said the bullying was so bad her son had to leave the elite school. A teacher on the South Shore said she’s sick over special-needs girls being photographed in the bathroom — only to learn it was all posted on Facebook.”

An accompanying Herald column, “Parents’ pleas fall on deaf ears,” painted a picture of parents feeling likewise helpless when it comes to putting an end to the harassment of their kids at the hands of their classmates:

“‘We told the school and the school did nothing.’

That’s the common refrain I’ve heard over and over since news broke of the apparent suicide of 15-year-old Phoebe Prince of South Hadley, who was relentlessly hounded by high school bullies.

Incredibly, her tormentors remain in class, protected by the school. Yet in conversations with parents and in more than 100 voice mails and e-mails, I learned that protecting bullies, not the bullied, is hardly unique to South Hadley. It’s now the rule in our schools.”

If the student victims were instead adult employees at a company being harassed by a peer, their supervisor would have to step in and stop the harasser from creating a hostile work environment or face a possible lawsuit. If one adult wouldn’t leave another one alone, a criminal restraining order could filed against the harasser. So why can’t the schools do more, like workplaces have done?

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There are some news stories that cross my desk and make me blurt out a variety of profanities or other exclamations. Like the story this week about how, despite the horrendous fall-out from the Jon & Kate Plus 8 debacle (where the Gosselins’ marriage fell apart in front of a national television audience while their kids continued to be filmed by a film crew), 47 percent of 1,000 moms surveyed by Parents Magazine said they’d agree to let their children appear on a family reality show. Is that about money? Fame? Cluelessness? I wondered.

Then there are stories like this one that I found out about from a friend via Twitter: A second grader drew Jesus on a cross while he was at school. His depiction (see the image above) sent shock waves through the school after officials declared it “violent.” Here’s how the Boston Herald reported it:

“An 8-year-old boy from Taunton was sent home from school and ordered to undergo a psychological evaluation after drawing a stick-figure picture of Jesus Christ on a cross.

. . . [The father] added his son drew the picture shortly after visiting the National Shrine of Our Lady of La Salette in Attleboro [MA] to see its Christmas display. He made the drawing after his teacher asked the children to sketch something that reminded them of Christmas, the father said.”

That sound you hear is my head hitting my desk.

Image credit: The Taunton Gazette via the Boston Herald.

Item #1: Father’s Day

I went on the record, years ago in fact, as detesting both Mother’s and Father’s Days. They put you in an impossible situation, if you’re married and both sets of your children’s grandparents live within a reasonable drive away. You’re supposed to celebrate your spouse — or “help” the kids celebrate the parent on the special day – then you’re supposed to celebrate your own parent and your spouse’s parent as well. If you’re lucky enough to have your own or your spouse’s own grandparents around, you’ve got to throw them into the mix and honor them all at the same time. On the same day.

In some families, if one grandparent gets to see his or her grown children plus the grandkids ON the actual Mother’s or Father’s Day and the other one doesn’t, there’s likely going to be hell to pay and feelings are hurt. The sulking can get ugly. I’ve heard stories . . . but I can’t tell them to you or else the folks who’ve told me their stories will kill me.

That being said, I’m still struggling — procrastinator am I, this being the Thursday before Father’s Day — with what to do for Father’s Day. The Picket Fence Post kids and I are planning on taking The Spouse out sometime this weekend to let him pick out a new grill so he can be the Grill Master of the Universe and no longer cook outside on a grill where flames shoot out of the bottom. But then there’s the question of my dad and The Spouse’s dad . . . while I’m trying to work this whole thing out, I’d love to hear how you readers out there handle your Mother’s Day/Father’s Day situations.

Item #2: Born First

For better or for worse, when our twins were born almost 11 years ago, The Spouse and I decided that we wouldn’t tell them which one was born first. We didn’t want them to grow up thinking that one was the “older” sibling and the other was the “younger” sibling, or have the “older” sibling think that he or she was able to boss the other around, etc. A mere 16 minutes separated their deliveries and frankly, we didn’t think nor did we want those 16 minutes to matter to them or to their perceptions of who they are or will be. We planned on telling them when they were older, when we didn’t think being technically “older” or “younger” would really matter to them.

When they first inquired about it, we were able to get away with the line, “You were born at the same time.” But as they got wise about pregnancy and childbirth, they figured out that babies don’t emerge from the womb simultaneously and they began asking questions. In the meantime, the outside world, for some reason, pestered all of us about their birth order. When The Spouse and I would refuse to tell people who was born first, they’d give us a shocked, disapproving looks, as if we’d just told them they needed to wear more deodorant. “Why in the world,” they asked us, “wouldn’t you want to tell us?” “Well why in the world,” we responded, “does it matter to you?”

The breaking point with The Girl and The Eldest Boy came last night when they demanded to know. Now. “You know a secret about my life!” The Eldest Boy shouted tearfully. So we told them. The one who was born first was clearly happy, though that individual promised not to lord it over the other. The kid who was born second was horribly disappointed, saying that some kid at school once said that, “Kids who are older are smarter.”

“Sixteen minutes,” I told the child, “it’s only 16 minutes. It doesn’t make any difference at all.”

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Some people think I exaggerate when I complain about a youth sports world gone bananas, and lament that some folks take grade school-aged children’s games waaaayy too seriously.

Then I read stories from the Boston Herald and Patriot Ledger about a Massachusetts youth soccer coach for a team of 6-7 year-olds who quit coaching following an uproar over his preseason letter to parents and the kids assigned to his team, named “Green Death.”

Some have defended this guy by saying that his letter was intended to be tongue-in-cheek and that those who got upset about it didn’t get his sarcasm. In his resignation letter, the coach said people “failed to see the humor” in his letter, adding, “It was meant as a satire of those who take youth sports too seriously for the wrong reasons.”

Below I’ve excerpted some portions of the coach’s original letter (original letter is on the Patriot Ledger  web site). Judge for yourselves what you think of this whole hub-bub, keeping in mind that the players about whom he’s discussing are SIX and SEVEN, and the refs he mentions that he heckles are around 12 years old:

“Green Death has had a long and colorful history and I fully expect every player and parent to be on board with the team. This is not a team, but a family (some say cult), that you belong to forever. We play fair at all times, but we play tough and physical soccer . . . We . . . prefer the gritty determination of journeymen who bring their lunch pail to work every week, chase every ball and dig in corners like a Michael Vick pit bull.

. . . Some say soccer at this age is about fun and I completely agree. However, I believe winning is fun and losing is for losers . . . While I spent a good Saturday morning listening to the [soccer league's] legal liability BS which included a 30 minute dissertation on how we need to baby the kids and especially the refs, I was disgusted. The kids will run, they will fall, get bumps, bruises and even bleed a little (but I do hope the other team is the one bleeding). If the refs can’t handle a little criticism, then they should turn in their whistle . . . My heckling of the refs is actually helping them develop as people . . . Second place trophies are nothing to be proud of as they serve only as a reminder that you missed your goal . . .

. . . [I]t is imperative that we all fight the good fight, get involved now and resist the urge to become sweat-xedo-wearing yuppies who sit on the sidelines in their LL Bean chairs sipping mocha-latte-half-caf-chinos while discussing reality TV and home decorating with other feeble-minded folks. I want to hear cheering . . .

Lastly, we are all cognizant of the soft bigotry that expects women and especially little girls to be dainty and submissive; I wholeheartedly reject such drivel. My overarching goal is [to] develop ladies who are confident and fearless, who will stand up for their beliefs and challenge the status quo. Girls who will kick ass and take names on the field, off the field and throughout their lives. I want these girls to be winners in the game of life. Who’s with me?”

It should be noted that a league official told the Boston Herald, “He chewed out a 12-year-old [ref] so bad last year she said she won’t referee anymore.”

When contacted by the Herald, the coach said, “I stand by my comments. This isn’t two hours of free babysitting.”

All I can say is that if my SIX or SEVEN-year-old girl was assigned to this “Green DEATH” team, and I had received this letter, I’d insist she be assigned to another team or else she’d sit out the season.

What say you guys? If you’re not sure, read his whole letter in context. I’d love to read your comments.