Bullying Ain’t What It Used To Be

By Greg Ritchie

Messenger Reporter

Editor’s note: Greg’s Corner is an award-winning editorial (opinion) section where Messenger Reporter Greg Ritchie shares odds and ends from the job and unusual or interesting facts from across the world and across time.

MESSENGER OFFICE –  I still remember that name and that face. I was in fourth grade at Wainwright Elementary in Houston. I was always different, I suppose, exceeding in some subjects and not so much in others. I have always had the problem of over-achieving in things I am interested in and struggling to fake interest in topics I don’t like. I always envied classmates who would just go through the motions, do the homework, study for the test and immediately forget what they learned and move on the next lesson. 

I was always pretty popular, I could be funny and played the guitar at a young age and had my little group of friends. Then I met my first bully. I won’t use his name and I hope he is still out there somewhere, thriving, doing well, maybe a little wiser. He had failed two grades, quite an accomplishment when much of our curriculum had been nap time and coloring. We were in fourth grade when he turned 13, part of our class, towering over us and torturing us whenever he could. 

At the time it was such a major issue for us, although looking back now, other than some life lessons, it was pretty small stuff. I had seen him push people in the hall, intimidate the other kids and generally just be mean, but he never really messed with me. I guess I wasn’t important enough to bother with. He once knocked down a girl I was friends with, and that got me angry. Kids are so much smarter than we give them credit for, and I decided to give him a lesson of my own. 

So in my own nerdy way, I started sniping at him. A joke at his expense in one class, a little dig when he didn’t know the right answer in another. I saw him turn red one day and water filled his eyes after something I had said. I knew I was on his radar now and would pay for it. 

That afternoon at our ritual kickball game came the showdown I suppose I knew something was coming. You must understand, at that time and at that age, kickball was sacred. I don’t know if they still play it at schools today, but for us, every game was the world series, to be talked about and debated heatedly until the next game. 

I was in line to kick, when Mr. Bully decided it was his turn, line be damned. He pushed two or three smaller kids in front of me in line and I decided enough was enough. For a kid in fourth grade, making the decision to confront a bully is like stepping off the boats at D-Day. You dive in head first, and trust your fate to God.

“Why don’t you pick on someone your own size?” I said, half his size and with my nerdy little glasses. 

My heart sank as he rushed towards me, casting a shadow over me as he came closer and blocked out the sun. He slapped me so hard I would have sworn my jaw was broken. My nerdy glasses flew into the field somewhere and I snapped. Eyes filled with tears, I was overtaken by a rage I had never felt and couldn’t control. I ran at him, tackled him and lay on top of him, punching with every inch of my little fourth-grade strength. 

The coach ran over and pulled me off, and I noticed most of our little school gathered in a circle around us. Someone found my glasses and I returned quickly to my old self, surprised by what I had become, if only for a moment. Coach said he would call our parents, which for a young kid is about as bad as it gets. I was more afraid of what the folks would do to me than anything some bully could dish out. Your parents could ban you from watching “The Dukes of Hazzard” – a fate worse than death, don’t you know?

The coach told my dad when he came to the school, “Your boy did good, he stood up for himself against a bigger kid who is always causing problems.”

To my surprise, I wasn’t in trouble. My parents told me not to start trouble, but not to walk away from it, either, and they were proud I had stood up for the smaller kids. People looked at me differently and the big bully avoided me and my little group of friends. We never became close, but somehow – in a way only young men understand without saying anything – we both respected each other and never had any more run-ins. 

These days, I guess the two of us would be suspended, the coach and my father put in jail – who knows. Letting young men work off some anger was just part of life, and everyone knew it would make us tougher and wiser in the long run. 

Bullying hasn’t ended, by any means, it’s just gotten more vicious. Before, you had to confront your victim or your bully, stand up, be brave and one way or the other, resolve the issue. Today, people can hide behind a keyboard and torture their victims in ways we couldn’t fathom in the early 1980’s. 

The effect is much worse on the victims – they either try to ignore it, or they stoop to the same level and tit-for-tat online, in front of the world, who pity both of them. You don’t need fists in 2024 to be a bully, just the ability to write something online you would probably never have the courage to say in person. 

Of course, writing for the newspaper, I come under all sorts of criticism, some justified, some not so much. I don’t pay much attention to it, it’s part of doing the job and I am usually amused by it, happy at least people are reading the news and having some reaction to it. 

Before I hit ‘enter’ on any post or comment, I take a moment to think if I would say that directly to that person, in person, and what their reaction might be. I read the words out loud, and think how they could be misinterpreted, when in person, body language or facial expression might soften or change the meaning. 

To those who spend most of their day online, anxious to comment, post, show how clever they are, remember this – no one likes a bully, and online bullying and general rudeness can have consequences. When that bully slapped me that day, the message was clear and I had to fight or flee. That smug feeling after posting that zinger or comeback online may just come to haunt you, as karma and the real world often catch up with bullies. 

Words can do plenty of harm – sometimes even more than sticks and stones. 

Greg Ritchie can be reached at [email protected]