The Bully

During the Fall my fourth grade year, I began to gain a consciousness of myself. I was quite a bit taller than anyone else in my school except for one or two boys. That probably wouldn’t have been a problem if I had been a boy. But the other kids noticed there was something different about me. I was not only very tall, but I was extremely skinny as well. I became the object of nick names such as “Mama Long Legs,” and “Spider Legs,” which added to my self-consciousness. I could count on the jibes about my appearance every day, but one thing I didn’t count on, was becoming the focus of the class bully. Her name was Janalee.
Janalee was very short and petite. She could also be described as a snob, although I believe the word I used when I told my mother about her was “stuck-up-snot.”
“Why are you so tall, Spider Legs? You look like a giraffe in those stupid brown pants!” She said to me one day. It was just another poke at my appearance, but she always managed to make me feel awkward and much smaller than my height seemed to convey. It seemed that her biggest problem with me, was that I was a poor country girl. She regularly made remarks about my clothing, or my hair followed by an explanation that it was my country upbringing, and not really my fault. Of course, her false sympathy only deepened my lack of self-esteem.
My mother listened to my complaints sympathetically, then gave me some advice that I have never forgotten. She told me that I should go out of my way to do something nice for her if I wanted her to be my friend. I didn’t want her friendship as much as I just wanted her to leave me alone, but I took the advice. It was near Christmas, and I was making handmade jewelry for all my friends. The jewelry was about as country-bumpkin as you could get. I had found some small pieces of wood, and wire in the garage. I twisted the wire into a chain, and painted my friends names on the wood, then attached it to the chain. I knew that the jewelry looked very hand-made, but I figured my friends would like it anyway because I had made it for them. The last necklace that I made had the name Janalee on it. I wrapped it in Christmas paper, then I took it to school and during recess, placed it in Janalee’s desk.
All morning, I was nervous about her reaction. Would the teasing and bullying get worse? At Lunch recess, Janalee found me and asked me why I had given her a Christmas present. I answered her that I had made them for all my friends. She looked at me dumbfounded, and for once she was speechless. She turned and walked away without another word.
The rest of the school year, Janalee paid very little attention to me. She was neither mean nor kind. She simply ignored me. I, of course, was very happy with the situation. I didn’t like her and I was relieved that she no longer found me interesting.
Over the next few years, I occasionally had classes with Janalee. More than once, she mentioned that I had given her a present when we were in fourth grade. She never mentioned it’s remarkably homespun qualities, but I still had the feeling she thought I was well below her class. By this time, however, I realized that she thought everyone was beneath her. She was plain and simply a snob, and well known for it.
One afternoon, when I was sixteen or seventeen, Janalee showed up on my front doorstep. “Hey what are you doing this afternoon?” She asked. I didn’t quite know what to say.
We had never been friends, and she had never spoken kindly to me. I wondered if she was laying a trap for me. “Lets go to Glades for ice cream,” She said. So I went with her. It turned out that she was alone for the weekend. She was an only child, and her parents had gone to visit relatives out of town. I spent the day with Janalee, swimming in the Spanish Fork River and sliding down the bank in the mud. I couldn’t believe that she got so dirty. We actually had fun together.
The last two years of high school, Janalee was on the tennis team with me. I wouldn’t say we ever “hung out” again, but we were amiable acquaintances. I have often thought of my little act of friendship all those years ago and the result that was so long in coming. It took six or seven years for the hostility to turn to tolerance and then to some small form of friendship. The lesson learned has been a valuable one. I have used my mother’s advice every time I have found myself in a social position that was not to my advantage. It has not always worked, but it has made me a better person. I have learned not to allow a bully to make me feel inadequate and small, but to be a bigger person and show them kindness. The affect has been to boost my self-awareness and self-confidence, and see the bully for what they really are; inconsequential.