Dreaming the World

This morning, a rich spring rain, beginning slowly, softly, then transitioning to something more determined, more persistent. The rain and fog dampens the colours blooming into a awakening landscape as a sea breeze dances the as yet only thinly leaved branches.

While it is abundantly spring here on the coast, go far enough inland and spring is still in waiting, the trees mostly bare. Way back in the fifties the Teals wrote influential books about how the seasons change with differences in latitude. They followed autumn down the east coast and spring up the east coast. Maybe not great science but fascinating to this young reader and innovative none-the-less.

Not surprisingly I suppose, I’ve been musing about bullies. I imagine we have all had our encounters with bullies. Being polio disabled I periodically found myself the target of such folk. Often my friends put and end to it, although sometimes they joined in, probably out of self preservation. The guys in the grade above me had been in my class before I was side lined for a year by the polio and quietly intervened on my behalf by simply informing the bullies not to bother me again.

When I did fight back, if I actually won, the bully’s parents inevitably called mine to complain. Perhaps because I was an angry kid (disability and abusive parents does that) my parents always sided with the oppressor, blaming me and telling me not to fight back. I was always confused and saddened, having no idea that my parents would do anything to stay under the radar.

I have a lovely memory from about sixth grade. There were a group of three or four boys who terrorized everyone, regardless of gender, on the playground, being rather indiscriminate about their targets. This went on during recesses and lunch for a large portion of the school year. One warmish spring day they were going about their routine, tormenting one person after another, when for whatever reason a large group of us attacked back.

This unfolded literally at the feet of a couple of teachers who pointedly ignored the bullies’ pleas for help. Everyone got shoves and punches in before the bell abruptly ended recess and everyone trickled back into the school. We heard no more from that gang of thugs.

I occasionally wonder why the teachers did not put a stop to the bullying earlier. That said, we all learned an important lesson: If, eventually, people stand up to bullying, things seldom end well for the bullies.