Here’s a quick snap of a poster in the lobby of our local middle school:
Since the time I wrote Bystander, I’ve been invited into many middle schools. Often the funds for my visits have come out of a school’s “anti-bullying” budget, or some similar cookie jar. After a series of sensational tragedies involving bullied children became public, various government agencies got involved. Legislation was passed, and many schools attempted to address the core issues.
They felt compelled to . . . do something. Or in the most cynical reading possible, administrators at least recognized the need to protect themselves from lawsuits. A kinder and generally more accurate take is that the extra attention, the extra funds, gave the good people in those schools the opportunity to do something meaningful, to make a difference in the lives of these young people. They care. Because I’ll tell you, I’ve met the best of these folks, I’ve spent time with them, and I am awed by the goodness in their hearts — their motivations and intentions. I’m honored to play a small role in their larger mission.
Witness the flowering of hundreds of bully-prevention programs throughout the land.
At the same time, yes, I know there are teachers who roll their eyes, check the clock, and wonder when they can get back to teaching. There’s a curriculum to be covered and, ultimately, tests to be given, results to be measured.
On the whole, not perfect, it’s a multi-faceted issue, and we’re all trying to figure it out. But a good process, I think.
I’ve seen that the more progressive schools have gradually moved on from that narrow (and sometimes too negative) focus to address the larger issues covered under the umbrella of “Character.” I’m glad about that.
Best of all, I am seeing a greater emphasis on kindness.
My old pal, Craig Walker, used to joke that everything you ever wanted to know about love was on the Supremes “Greatest Hits” LP. And by that he meant, there’s nothing earth-shatteringly new that anybody can possibly say on the topic. There will be no new revelations forthcoming. We’ve heard it all already, and so often that it comes out like a tired cliche. No, you can’t hurry love. And you do keep me hanging on.
When it comes to the bad behavior associated with bullying, we can ask those involved, “How would you like it?” “How would it make you feel?” And maybe we can say something about doing unto others. Or being kind. Or a dozen other fairly obvious things that remind us how to be a good (read: caring, compassionate, thoughtful) person in this world. We can also tell them, in clear language supported by real consequences, that bullying is unacceptable.
I do believe that it’s part of every school’s mission to reinforce these messages, every day, in a thousand small ways. I’m glad that sign is in our lobby. It’s a minor thing, sure, easy to dismiss or ignore, but it’s still a signal amidst the noise. A lighthouse visible from the stormy sea.
All and all, not a terrible question to ask ourselves before we act, speak, or post:
Is it kind?
Well said….I teach my bullying unit with your book and the students are spell-bound while I read (all novels are read aloud s in my primary instruction program). We are starting Bystander on Tuesday. By the way, the same poster is in our middle school. Can you imagine a world where people with “differences” were treated like everyone else?? I can.
My gran used to have a single fridge magnet, a very small one with two words, that took position at eye level so you couldn’t fail to see it. Forgive me, for not remembering the psalm reference, but I do know it’s from the bible. “Be Kind.”
That magnet always made a big impact on me, and though Gran’s long gone, it still does.
I love that. It’s amazing how these small things — a magnet, two words! — can make such an impact, across decades and generations.