Okay, it’s probably an annoying coincidence that just as we’re looking at getting Katherine into preschool, both Stacy and Anna write of worries about their children having to deal with bullies. Says the former:
The future scares the hell out of me. My son is in kindergarten. Right now he is the sweetest, friendliest, most open child. The thought of his spirit being damaged in any way by some arrogant little shit is enough to make my vision blur and my fists clench. His father and I simply will not allow it to happen.
Says the latter:
I see shades of this future on the playground sometimes. Will is at the top of the slide, politely waiting his turn, saying “scyoo me” when walking past other kids. Then some little cretin comes along, shoves him (and the other polite little kids)out of the way and is in general an obnoxious crud bucket. No parent in sight of course.
Margie and I will protect Katherine from others as much as we can (and protect others from Katherine, too). God knows my own experience with bullies and other anti-social types in school are raw wounds to this day.
But I also know that we won’t always be there. And that she will encounter anti-social behavior, and bullying, and there sometimes there won’t be any recourse, immediately, but either sucking it up, or punching the kid in the nose.
Life isn’t fair. That was a cold, hard lesson for me to learn, and I still rail against it.
Life isn’t fair, but each of us is called to be fair anyway.
And she will be hurt, dammit. I’d love to hover unseen above her, hurling lightning bolts like Jove at the jerks that hurt her, but I can’t. And even if I could at school, she’s going to encounter jerks and bullies and anti-social behavior in college, and on the job, and on the street.
She needs to learn how to deal with it.
And she needs to learn how not to pass it on.
That’s the best we can do for her.