Bullied Read online

  I am glad when in the classroom in school where I am safe most of the time, except when I have to go to the boy's bathroom. In addition, I have to endure daily pain inflicted by the Sisters. Regarding the Sisters, they all have very different personalities, for example, Sister Prentice, Sister Donna and Sister Honorine are always nice but others, like Sister Paula, Sister Ann Richards and some others are stern and unsmiling. The one thing they all have in common is they never hit me but they will grab me by the arm, hair or my ears for almost any reason, and this always hurts.

  It seems, from the minute I get up, to the time I go to bed, I have different people grabbing, shoving, threatening, punching and screaming at me. Is this what life is supposed to be like? Should I really have to endure this just for a Catholic education to prepare me to live my life? It does not make any sense, and I want it to stop.

  I have to figure out a way to avoid these assaults. Traveling to school in the morning, it takes me just 20 minutes to get there. I need to time the walk so I arrive just as the bell rings so I do not have to stand outside with others, but if I do not enter the school right when the bell rings, I will be late and have to stay in detention. However, that might not be bad, because the bullies are usually gone when I get out. This is a great idea! I could just skip homework and they will keep me after school. That is okay because I would rather spend an extra hour in school every day than face a beating. These are both good ideas.

  Leaving at the last minute for school as well as refusing to do homework is two strategies to reduce pain. Sometimes Mom makes sure I do my homework at night, but when going to school I may not turn it in. Many times, I am the only kid staying after school in automatic detention for not submitting homework. Since I am the only one, the teacher will sometimes, after regular school hours take me to the convent, a large house on school property where the Sisters live. The priests live in a different house, also on school property. When I am at the convent doing my work, I say hello to the Sisters as they pass by. I know most of them by name and many seem surprised how often I am there. After a while, my presence at the convent after school became “normal”. One of the Sisters, Sister Honorine, gave me the nickname of “The Ornament”, because I am there so often.

  School is OK, if not for the violence. I try to think what I do that makes kids pick on me. I know that one of those things might be that it is hard for me to sit in that desk all day without moving around a lot. I also have a lot of trouble paying attention to the teacher, especially when other kids are all around me and I am in the middle of a row. Since Sister Mary Elizabeth introduced me to it, I actually like to be in the front seat of a row because it is easier for me not to be distracted and understand what the teacher is saying.

  Thinking of things that make me “different”, I know that when I am talking to other kids, my attention wanders because of other things going on around me. By their facial expressions, I can tell there is something, whatever it is. I like many of the kids I meet in school but a few of them that think I am “different” are the ones that cause most of my trouble, such as popular kids, like Donald.

  I have the most respect for the nice girls in my classes. When coming to school, they look clean and pretty in their white blouses and blue dress uniforms from shoulders to knees. I like their smell and the look of their normally short and neat hair. Patty, my friend from kindergarten, is still in my class and always looks pretty, and is still friendly.

  When sick with a cold, I get to stay home and spend the day in bed with my books and radio. Constant fear and apprehension from the bullying makes me want to be sick every day. Asthma, colds and flu are various illnesses I can easily fake to take a sick day. Quite often I simply tell my Mom I am sick and, because she is usually rushing to get to work, she does not question me in detail about how I feel. I know she will not insist on bringing me to a doctor because she cannot afford it and, after she leaves for work, I can do as I please around the house.

  When I am home sick, Grandma does not come upstairs very often because she is heavy and does not like the stairs. When Grandpa comes home for lunch, he may come up briefly to check on me, other than that, I am alone at home all day. Being alone is a lot more comfortable than being with other kids so I do not think I will ever like to be around large groups of people. Somehow, large groups always mean that someone or a smaller group will try to intimidate or dominate me for some reason. I do not like that.

  This past year, some parts of life have started to change a great deal, as far as my relations with other kids, and not for the better. During my next school year, in 7th grade, I will turn 11 years old and hope I can make new friends and feel better about my life.

  Chapter II – Life at Eleven and Twelve

  I am 11 and things seem to be changing in my body. Every morning when I get up, my penis is hard and stiff for some reason. I also have a powerful warm feeling in my groin, stomach and thighs all the time. I do not know why I have this feeling but I hear from other boys that it is about something called "puberty”. I am not sure what that means. As much as I am curious about all these feelings, I do not have anyone I can ask about it. If I had a Daddy, I would ask him. My Mom has never been a boy, so she would not know anything about it. My grandfather has never been somebody whom I can ask these types of questions. I have had similar feelings before, but it was never this persistent and powerful. Not understanding why this is happening and what it means is very confusing.

  When speaking to friends, they do not have answers for me either. I guess all of the boys are experiencing the same thing and it is a big mystery. I seem to get this feeling all the time for no particular reason even when alone. I feel it a little more whenever I look at my friend Patty, because I like her light brown hair and sweet face. I also get this feeling when I see my sister's friend, Dona. She has black hair, dark eyes, a slim body and beautiful smile. She is probably the most beautiful thing I have ever seen in my life. Every time she walks past my house and smiles, I get an erection. I do not know what I would do with all these feelings and I can never get the courage to tell her how much I like her. Well, this is just another sometimes-overwhelming mystery. There are so many, including some other feelings that I do not understand.

  The second worst feeling to that pain from thighs to chest that I wake up with is that very sad feeling. I heard my Grandparents recently talking about a sad feeling that runs in our family they called “melancholy”. That word does not seem to describe the depth of feeling that I have but it may be the same. It makes the world seem like an awful place and all of the problems that I am having are my own fault. That feeling just makes everything seem so hopeless. What complicates this even more is when the weather is awful and the sky is overcast, I even feel worse. Knowing I am that way, I dread the winters because we never see the sun for months at a time. I learned recently that where I live in upstate New York, there are only 28 days of sunshine each year and none of them occurs in the winter months. Because of this, the months from November to March are my worst time of the year. That is also the same time that bullying is worst. I wonder if there is any connection.

  Seventh grade is a long way toward the top grades in elementary school. I would normally be leaving Saint Ambrose and starting Union Endicott high school at the end of next year after the eighth grade. As much as I sometimes like certain Sisters, who work very hard to teach me, I would like to try public school for a change. The feeling of going to a Catholic school where I learn about religion an hour every day, and then face the violence from other students, as well as from some of the adults in my family, just confuses me. I always wonder what bearing this religion, discipline and holy authority has in making it OK for people to bully me all the time. It makes me feel different from everyone else, but I also do not understand why they call me strange names like Fag, Queer, Shorty, Red, Red Ass, Freckles, Spots, Creep and Weirdo all the time. There are many other names, too many to remember, and there are always new ones. I am sure if I were taller and
tougher, I would not have this problem.

  I do have some friends that are good company. One of my friends, another bigger kid named Bernie, my age, is a very strong person, and he is funny a lot of the time. He has two brothers and they all walk to school along the same route that I do. Since they live about a block away from my house and know what I have to deal with, Bernie’s younger brother asked me if I want to walk to school with them every day but I know if I do that, I will have to obey Bernie because he is the leader. I think I would rather be alone because I would just be swapping several bullies for another one.

  My strategy of leaving home 20 minutes before the bell sounds four blocks away seems to be working. I often arrive and see bullies that I know want to fight me, quickly entering the school before they are late. If they see me, they may come up to me on my lunch break now. The process usually starts with them calling me a name.

  “Hey, little Shorty, how are you doing?” It frightens me when this happens because I know what will happen next. Then they push me in the chest, hoping I would push them back so they can hit me. Sometimes, if they are not too much bigger than I am, when those kids push or hit me, and no Sisters are around, I try to hit them in the face as hard as I can. This surprised a few of them recently and some leave me alone after that. The bigger ones simply wait and beat me up again on the way home. While in school, I have to think about that while feeling that pain in my stomach.

  Except for the fighting and violence, seventh grade seems interesting even though there are difficult subjects like mathematics. Others, like history and Latin are fascinating. Our history courses typically center on Italy and Rome, because that is where the Vatican and the Pope is located. It is interesting to study about the Roman Emperors, Roman Empire and the history of Italy, itself. We also cover aspects of US History, especially about the Constitution, Declaration of Independence and the Revolutionary War.

  Sister Honorine is my teacher this year. She is a tall woman with a serious face that is always carefully searching my face to discover what I am thinking and I think she can do this pretty well. She is a very smart and hard-working Sister who teaches with a passion along with a flurry of writing on the blackboard and who makes a large effort to get the points across to us, especially to kids like me, who are having trouble concentrating. She seems very aware of my inability to pay attention and is always telling me, "Patrick, look up here now.”

  Occasionally they give us tests called “IQ” tests that are supposed to figure out how smart we are. For some reason, whenever I take it, I get raised eyebrows from Sister Honorine. I do not get high grades in school because I will not do my homework. Therefore, I stay after school every afternoon until 4:30. Sister Honorine always takes me to the convent, where she still introduces me to the rest of the sisters now with the nickname she gave me last year, "The Ornament.” I guess that means that I am a decoration or something. Nonetheless, the other Sisters always smile when Sister Honorine calls me that. When looking at my IQ test scores, she always remarks,

  “Yes, Patrick it's too bad you're so lazy. Yes, it is too bad you're so lazy.” I don’t know why she always has to say it twice all the time. Maybe I get high scores on these tests somehow. I know she thinks I am lazy because my grades are always C’s with some D’s and barely passing.

  Since I am 11 years old, I might be able to get a job peddling papers For the Endicott Daily Bulletin. I went and applied some months ago on my birthday and just got a call to come in and meet the Manager. One day after my detention class, I walk to the Endicott daily bulletin offices on Main Street, quite a way east of my house. I know it is east because, since I have no sense of direction and get lost all the time, I have to carry a small compass so I can find my way around. As I learned in the Boy Scouts, a map and compass are all I need.

  The Manager, Mister Garvey, is a tall, good-looking man with black hair and a pleasant but serious way about him. I told him that my grandfather taught me that the only way to get through life was to work hard. He seemed to like this, and hired me for a small paper route near my house. This is my first job and I am excited about it. A truck drops the papers in a bundle on a street corner near my house. I am supposed to take each one, roll it up and throw it on the porches of our subscribers. To help me with this job, they gave me a big canvas bag, with a strap on it to help me carry the papers. This is terrific because now I make about ten dollars every month. That is great money and I can buy many things with it.

  Even though I may have to stay in detention every day until 4:30, the paper delivery fits easily into my day. After I pick up the papers on the corner, it takes me about an hour and a half to deliver them and walk home. That means I can be home for dinner by 6:30. My Mom told me she was Ok in delaying dinner a few minutes, if necessary, because she usually got home about 5:30 and has dinner ready about 6:00 PM. The paper route is a great addition to my day and gives me something to think about other than frequent issues with bullies and school.

  As the school year goes on, things seem to be getting more complicated, especially regarding the popular kids, Donald, Michael, Barry and little Bernie. Little Bernie was the only kid in the school almost as short as I was and he has the same first name as my other friend named Bernie that is much bigger than both of us. However, little Bernie was good friends with the most popular kids and that made him immune from daily bullying by them. It seems as if the four of them are always together, before and after school. Whenever I run into them coming the opposite way, all four would shove and punch me as they passed. Walking down the street, if I see them coming the opposite way, I would walk to the sidewalk on the other side of the street in order to avoid them. Whenever I do this, they also move to the other side of the street so I would have to pass them on the sidewalk. This same thing also occurs whenever I see Rick and his brothers or other gangs coming the opposite way.

  For some reason, things are getting a lot more difficult with some of my classmates. Could it be because of this strange glowing feeling in my crotch that seems to be getting stronger every month? Sometimes, it is a major issue for me many times each day. The other males about my age also seem to be getting more emotional and unpredictable at times. Even the girls seem to be noticing this increase in boys acting out. Whatever it is that is causing this, it has to stop. I have too many other things to worry about every day including delivering my papers.

  The paper route takes me down some streets that are at least three long blocks to the street that runs in front of the Endicott Johnson Shoe factory. On my customer list there is also a bar there where I deliver three papers each day. When I have the time and I am running late, I might stop there for a few minutes to watch my favorite program on TV, The Mouseketeers. One of the members, named Annette Funicello, is so pretty that I feel that stirring in my pants whenever I see her beautiful breasts. The same old men, two of which are customers, are usually there at the bar every day. Since there is only one channel on TV, Channel 12, and The Mouseketeers is the only program available at 5:30 PM, it is always on. The bartender and my customers are usually very nice to me and, if I have any extra papers, they may buy them since the bar is my last stop. At that point, the only thing left is the long four-block walk home.

  When I first started delivering papers, I thought that I might often run into the bullies. Funny, but I seldom see any kids at all when I am doing my paper route. I guess they are all home for dinner by that time. When I do occasionally run into someone I know, if they are alone, they do not bother me. Somehow, this bullying of me must have something to do with other people that are there.

  I like this work of delivering papers. It feels good to walk fast while curling the papers to throw them. This activity also helps me ignore the frequent rain or snow in my face and my cold feet. When winter comes, the sky is always a miserable dark or grey and I simply want to stay in my room. This walking, to my surprise, actually makes me feel better even when I have that sad feeling and other discomforts.

  Havin
g money is a new experience, and as I just learned, there are things I can buy that will relieve that sad feeling for a while, like ice cream. Somehow, it makes my brain and spirits feel better, even when the skies are dark. It helps for just an enjoyable brief few minutes and then the sad feeling gradually comes back. Another escape that makes the mind feel better is the movies. If I can do my homework, skip detention and somehow make it safely out of the Saint Ambrose Elementary school through the side door, I can get to Washington Boulevard where the Strand and Lyric theatres are located.

  Either I can pay for the movie or, as I have many times, I can sneak into the theatre through the side exit door. I can see one feature and still have time to deliver papers afterward, and make it home just a few minutes late for dinner. Seeing a movie always makes me feel so much better and breaks up the continual awful nightmare of living, as I know it. Sometimes, if Mom and Lauren want to eat and I am running late doing my paper route, they will keep my dinner warm in the oven for me.

  I can buy other things, too. I thought of buying a switchblade knife by mail order. No, I can’t, I thought, switchblades are against the law and I might kill somebody, which is against the Ten Commandments. Still, there are some interesting ads about Jujitsu training and Charles Atlas, "Dynamic Tension” strength building information available. The advertisements say, “Don’t let the bullies kick sand in your face”. What bullies do to me is a lot worse than kicking sand in my face, I thought, but I will think about this “Dynamic Tension” stuff.