The Anti-Bully Blog Series Edition #12 part 2

So if you're just checking this post out and missed yesterdays I suggets checking it out as this is a series within the series and yesterday's was the start. Here is the link. http://nancyk100.blogspot.com/2011/10/anti-bully-blog-series-edition-12-part.html
If You DID catch yesterday's I don't need to go into great detail on today's post. So without further delay here is Part 2 of CATHY OR CATHERINE? THE SEARCH FOR IDENTITY IN THE FACE OF ADVERSITY

Meeting Kendra

I clearly remember meeting Kendra even though I was only two at the time. It was a cool crisp fall day. I remember the leaves blowing around. My father was going up the street to meet the new neighbor, and he brought me with him because the new neighbors had a little girl. As we walked up the street, I noticed a pretty girl with a shiny red tricycle. I knew instantly she would be my friend. Kendra’s dad was working under the hood of the car as my father went over to” talk cars” with this new neighbor. He told me to go and talk to the little girl, who was peddling up and down the walkway on the pretty red tricycle, pretending to be oblivious to my presence. I walked over to her and said, “My name is Cathy. What’s yours?” She told me her name was Kendra. As she said this, she kept on riding. I was frustrated that she would not stop peddling and pay attention to me, after all was I was the center of the world! So, I walked in front of Kendra’s bike and grabbed the handlebars to ask her a question. Kendra acted like she hadn’t heard the question and she rode over my toes and said “mine”(referring to her tricycle). I don’t remember what happened after this, but I do recall that Paula and I started playing with our new neighbor soon after. Although, Paula remained my best friend, I really looked up to Kendra who was a year older, pretty and very smart.

As I reflect on meeting Kendra, I realize that she may have, even then, set in motion some of the circumstances that led to my peer rejection. In my early childhood, Kendra was just another playmate, but as we got older we became best friends. As this early story illustrates, Kendra was a child with a dominant, take charge personality. She was willing to play with me, but only after she had firmly established that the tricycle was hers. Although strong, our friendship was unequal with me taking the submissive role for the first time in my life. Kendra riding over my toes was symbolic of the friendship that was to unfold. I would do anything to please the glamorous Kendra. This submissive role may later have made me an easy target for bullies at school. Bullies like to be seen as having power and holding a dominant role. They tend to pray on weak and submissive children, to compensate for what they see as their inadequacies (Hazler, 1996).

Thus, for the most part, my preschool years were filled with love and acceptance. As the much longed for child, I was the center of my family’s life where I was nurtured and accepted. In my neighborhood, there were plenty of playmates who liked me and I even had a best friend. This happy childhood might have left me unprepared for the world of school where you are not the center of attention and not everyone likes you. “Anyone who has to move out of a group where she belongs in order to join in some other group will be losing self-esteem unless she is easily accepted in the group” (Griffiths,1995, p.116). It was a damaging blow to my self-esteem when I entered school, where I was not accepted.

Helplessness

Oprah: you never told?

Peter: No because I mean the thing is if I told anybody, if I told like my mom, she couldn’t do anything really except, except, tell the teachers and they can’t really do anything either” (Atkinson Hudson, 2000).

Above are the words of a junior high school student telling of the helplessness he felt when he was picked on in school. What is helplessness? The Oxford Dictionary defines helpless this way: lacking help, defenseless; having or showing inability to act without help; unable to help oneself (Allen, 1984, p.342). Helplessness is something that is learned (Harris & Liebert, 1992). After many negative experiences, one learns that no matter what he or she does, the bad situation will not change, so why bother trying to change it? This was how it was for me during my peer rejection. I learned that no matter what I did, it would not stop the other children from picking on me. I was helpless.

The first incidence of rejection in my life that led to helplessness is one I can’t remember, but one which may have sowed the seeds for my future peer rejection. In a sense, I was rejected as soon as I was born. This story is put together with information given to me by my biological mother and government records.

Adoption story

I was born Katherine Joyce Miller in Saint John, New Brunswick July 8, 1970. My biological parents Lucy and Brad, gave me up for adoption after much pressure from Lucy’s mother, who was embarrassed to have such a scandal in their upper middle class Catholic home.

The pregnancy was a shock to my biological grandmother who was a staunch Catholic, and thus believed premarital sex was a sin. She told Lucy that the only way she would let her keep her baby were if she married Brad and he quit his band and got a job. Both Lucy and Brad claimed they wanted to keep the baby, but Brad was not willing to get married and was especially not ready to quit the band. Lucy claims her mother kept her locked in the house for the next eight months of the pregnancy, so that no one would find out. Nonetheless, Lucy points out that her mother made sure to feed her good nutritional meals. At the end of the eight months, Lucy gave birth to me and gave me up for adoption. This was the beginning of my rejection.

As far back as I can remember, my mother always told me I was adopted and that I was “special’ because they chose me. Although my adopted family made me very happy, part of me felt rejected. I wondered for years why my biological mother didn’t want me. Was there something wrong with me? It plays havoc with one’s self-esteem to know you were unwanted by your creators before you were even born. I needed answers, but it wasn't until age seventeen that I got any. It turns out that it wasn’t my biological mother who didn’t want me, it was her mother who didn’t.

Meeting Lucy

When I was seventeen I set out in search of my biological mother. I had recently found papers in my parents’ room that had my birth name on it. After a bit of a search, I found a phone number, not for my birth mother, Lucy, but for her mother. I phoned and asked the women who answered if she had a daughter named Lucy. She said she did, but when I asked her if this woman could be my biological mother, she would not answer. She just said that she would pass my name and number onto Lucy and hung up. Lucy called me back, confirmed she was my biological mother and arranged a meeting.

When we met, Lucy told me her story of a girl who wanted her baby, but had no means of caring for her, and who caved into the pressure from her mother, out of guilt and shame. After talking with Lucy for many hours, I was feeling both angry and rejected by the women who was my biological grandmother. She deemed my conception a crisis that must be taken care of. I was not about to become the beloved grandchild that, Sean, born to Lucy’s brother and his wife around the same time I was born, would be. After all, Sean was conceived in the confines of a good Catholic marriage. This women, my biological grandmother, had no interest in meeting me.

Nine years later, I attended Lucy’s mother’s funeral. I slipped into the back row, so not to disturb the other mourners. I sat dumbfounded during the service, where I listened to the priest praise this “saintly women” who did so much for the church and her family. I listened intently as he named the children and grandchildren. It was no surprise that I was not named among them. Even in death this women had kept the family’s dirty secret preserved. I burned inside during the funeral because it made me feel like a dirty secret. I looked at the front of the church, where the family sat. I saw people who looked like me, but to whom I did not belong. I felt bitter. Here I sat twenty-six years later, feeling the sting of rejection I was born with. I felt left out by this woman who the priest was practically canonizing, and helpless to do anything about it. Even now, I still feel disdain for this women who made me feel I didn’t belong and that my existence was a sin and a protected secret. I had always known that there was a family out there somewhere who didn’t want me, but I didn’t know why. Even when I did receive answers, it just gave me more detailed reasons to feel rejected. Being given up for adoption was my first rejection, the one I was the most helpless to change, the one that taught me to feel ashamed. From a very young age, it may have made me vulnerable to peer rejection, for as Hazler (1996) notes, bullies seek out those who are vulnerable. Until I started school however, this vulnerability was not put to the test.

Kindergarten is where I remember first experiencing peer rejection and the feelings of helplessness that accompanied it. At first, I was very excited about starting kindergarten. Paula and I were attending the same kindergarten that Kendra had attended the previous year. Kendra had made it sound like a fun place. I was excited about meeting the other students, reading books, and playing games. But kindergarten was not all fun and games as I thought it would be. Indeed, it is where I first clearly remember rejection

Watch for part 3 tomorrow! Thanks again To Catherine for sharing her VERY personal papers with me. Remember if you'd like to contact me with future editions to the Anti bullying Blog series OR any questions you can FB me OR e-mail me nancy.wood@mbsradio.com

Logo Credit to Nate

The Anti-Bully Blog Series Edition #12 part 1

Catherine has become a loyal listener and from my interactions with her online, she’s a fantastic woman and mother. We actually FIRST spoke because her son is a BIG fan of the Hot 7@7, and has been a 10 second co-host on more than one occasion. When I was sending out my major SOS in the summer for material for the Anti-bully Blog Series, Catherine came to the rescue in a BIG way. She actually studied bullying and the behavior, and sent me a couple of her papers. Needless to say they ARE long so I’ll be breaking them up a little. I find them fascinating! I’ll stop my rambling now and share it with you . This CATHY OR CATHERINE? THE SEARCH FOR IDENTITY IN THE FACE OF ADVERSITY

School was where my journey with peer rejection started. By the time I was eight, I dreaded getting up in the morning because I knew the day ahead would result in rejection of some sort. The dread would form itself into a small ball in the pit of my stomach. I remember walking to the bus stop with a stomachache every morning, wondering what the day would hold. Would I be left out of other children’s games? Would I be laughed at? Would I be beat up? This was my reality once I started school.

This chapter will examine my memories of rejection. According to van Manen “The purpose of phenomenological reflection is to try to grasp the essential meaning of something” But how does one make sense of years of memories? What does all this pain mean? As discussed earlier, these memories were analyzed thematically. To put it simply, I looked for important themes underlying each memory. It wasn’t always that simple - some memories are made up of more than one experiential structure, and I uncovered more themes than it was possible to explore here. But after much thought and analysis, I narrowed the focus to four themes that stand out in my story: 1) It wasn’t always that way, 2) Helplessness, 3) Identity, 4) Rebellion or rejecting the rejecter. These will be explored individually in the following sections.

It Wasn’t Always That Way

Living with her extended family afforded Janis extra love and attention (Joplin, 1994, p.24).

Some of you know Mrs. Wilson, who teaches with me. Her building shares a backyard with two other buildings. All the children in all the buildings play in that one yard and they follow a simple rule: Everyone Can Play (Paley, 1992, p.36).

If I think back to my early childhood one statement comes to mind. “I was perfectly happy until I was five.

During the first five years of my life, I experienced a period of overwhelming unconditional love from my new family. On November 9, 1970, I was adopted by Bob and Joan, a couple who had hoped for a child throughout their thirteen years of marriage, but had been unable to conceive. I was adopted into a very small family, an only child, and the last of the cousins born. My maternal grandmother, who I lovingly referred to as Baba, lived with my parents. Also, my mother’s sister, Aunt Lena, doted on me and considered herself to be my second mother. I had other relatives who also doted on “the baby”, as I was called until I was well into my teens! The story of how I came home as a newly adopted baby was recounted to me many times by my mother. I will let her words, as she told them to me, tell the story, as this memory is hers not mine, but is a part of my story.

The baby arrives

You arrived a day later than we expected. Daddy couldn’t get the day off work but he telephoned me every half-hour from work to see if the baby had arrived. Finally, the social worker brought you over. You were all pink cheeked, with orange peach fuzz on the top of your head, dressed in a pretty blue dress that matched your eyes. The minute they laid you in my arms a big smile broke out on your face. It was love at first sight for both of us. As soon as Daddy found out you had arrived, he rushed home from work to see his new baby. He was very happy, as he had wanted a baby for years and a baby girl was what he had specifically requested. Your Daddy had your new name all picked out- Catherine Elizabeth Derry. As soon as Aunt Lena got off work, she, too, hurried over to see her new niece. In that very first moment she saw you, you became Aunt Lena’s favorite family member.

There is a picture taken of me that first Christmas (see figure 2.2). I am sitting in my baby seat holding a doll, underneath the Christmas tree, surrounded by all the opened Christmas presents. My mother said that they had put their new baby under the tree because they considered me the best Christmas present they ever received!

These early memories, although they are not mine, show a child who was very much wanted and showered with much affection. Before reflecting on this, let’s turn to some of my own memories of this time period. I try to remember what I can of those early years, when I felt happy, safe and unconditionally loved, my world defined by my close-knit family.

Band leader

It was shortly before my beloved BaBa died, when I was about five. I remember it was night because I had my pajamas on. I went into the kitchen where the adults were talking. Aunt Lena was visiting. The four of them were sitting around the kitchen table, smoking and discussing whatever boring things adults discussed. I told them I was bored and wanted to play. BaBa asked me what I wanted to play. “Band,” I said. With a smile I went into my room and found five toy instruments. I distributed them to the adults, keeping the tambourine for myself. Then the adult proceeded around the living room led by me, singing, laughing, and making lots of noise.

This is one of my earliest childhood memories. Other episodes I recollect include picnics, vacations and sitting on everyone’s lap and being read to. What does this memory say to me now? What is its essence? This memory makes me feel loved and important. How could one not feel important being the band leader and having the adults follow your lead! This was the spirit of my early childhood. I was loved and was at the

center of four adults’ worlds. I did not know then that this was not the way the real world was going to be. This was a protective, inclusive world in which I was the queen and the adults were my court. As I reflect back on this, I realize that it must have somehow been a shock to my five-year-old self to go out in the world and find out that I wasn’t the queen.

I remember only a little bit about my early friendships. I had plenty of friends when I was little (see figure 2.3). I lived in a neighborhood full of children, and aside from a few of the usual childish squabbles, we all played well together. I had two best friends, Paula and Kendra (not their real names). I have no memory of meeting Paula, because our mothers sat us in front of each other when I was about nine months old and Paula was about eleven months old. Paula and her family lived down the street from us. According to my mother, when we met, we all became instant best friends. In fact, our

mothers are still best friends to this day. Before we started school, Paula and I used to play everyday while our mothers had coffee. Sometimes we would fight, but it would be forgotten by the next day. We did everything together and would enter each other's houses without knocking. My first memory of Paula involves our separation in a department store

A trip to Woolco

Our mothers did their shopping together, going in the morning after our fathers had gone to work. It was always Woolco, because at that time it was the new place to shop in our neighborhood. Our mothers would always put us in the front of their carts where Paula and I would babble to each other or play little games with our hands. On this particular day, our mothers proceded to drive their carts in different directions, agreeing to meet at the “Red Grill” later. I remember feeling surprised and upset that Paula and I were going to be separated. We reached for each other's hands in unison and held on tight, in hopes that our mothers would not separate us. It was to no avail - our mothers went in their separate directions. I remember stretching my hand out in the air to Paula, crying.

When I reflect on this memory I recognize the feeling I felt as panic. I felt panicked at the loss of a playmate, even though it was temporary. To my two-year-old self, it seemed like the end of the world. Perhaps this was my first realization that you can’t always have a friend around when you want one, a thought that had not entered my world yet

Kendra was my other childhood best friend, although I don’t think we became best friends until I was in grade two or three. I can remember meeting her for the first time at a young age.

Going to cut it off for now. However I won't make you wait TOO long for the next part. I'll post part #2 tomorrow. Thanks to Catherine for sharing her paper with me so I could share with you! Also want to thank Nate for the logo! Remember if you have something you feel you could contribute to the Anti-bully Blog series you can e-mail me nancy.wood@mbsradio.com or Facebook me.

The Anti Bully Blog Series Edition #11 Follow Up

Where to begin? Well I remember the other girls in my grade being jealous of her when she was in grade 5. Know why? The boy NOTICED she was more developed than we were (myself included). Pretty sure I told Natasha this, I was in the jealous group, never picked on her, but never spoke to her either until she was seated next to me in class.

I remember SHE actually broke the ice. We spoke in class but never really chummy, until she gave me a shout one day. We sat on the phone for an hour, easy. After that there was NO separating us, and if we WERE separated we were sitting on the phone. As a matter of fact, I remember the day that she had her top pulled up. I wasn’t there. My dad had a rule about coming home RIGHT after school, and she would have been far easier to corner. I got a call, her, obviously crying, you would be too. There WAS more to that story with that girl. We were crazy cheesey kids, and decided to have 5 of us dress up like the Spice Girls and do a routine in front of the school at an assembly the NEXT DAY. The girl who actually did it, if I recall correctly, was supposed to be in that dance with us. Natasha DID try and tough it out but was so upset about the situation she made herself sick, and ended up going home, and we grabbed our backup person. The dance sounds like it wasn’t a BIG deal, but I remember Natasha practicing, A LOT and it meant something to her, the fact she didn’t end up being in it DID bother her.

I remember her taking the blame for things she DIDN’T do, and not understanding why. It all came together in my head after reading her piece she wrote for me, it was what she was putting up with behind closed doors. When that came out, it came out HARDCORE. I remember my dad asking me about it, because I’d had sleepovers at her house. I knew NOTHING about it, and this was going on BEFORE she became friends with me. I remember feeling guilty. INSANELY guilty. Natasha told me EVERYTHING, but she never told me that. I felt like I let her down, that I could have done something. Maybe if I’d known, I could have, but I NEVER saw things that were red flags to me until now. Looking back I remember her not wanting him around, when we were at her house we’d go to her room and shut the door, and if he came in she’d be CRAZY upset. When we were somewhere with him she’d try and get away from him. EVEN at one of her Birthday’s she had a dance and he operated the music, I’m not sure I remember her at the table with us all trying to place requests. I see them now, but I felt I dropped the ball as her friend on a few occasions, but that was the big one.

Today Natasha is an INCREDIBLE woman. She’s still the same girl I met, always smiling and open to making new friends. They never took that from her. They didn’t break her, WHO she is, never changed, and it’s incredible that it didn’t. She DEFIANTLY grew a backbone, but she never became bitter or angry. She stayed happy, and positive. Natasha has ALWAYS been, and remains to this day an UNBELIEVABLE friend, and what’s more is it’s not hard to get that friendship with her.

Thanks again to Nate for designing the Logo. Remember the blog goes as long as I have material. If you have something to contribute you can fb me OR e-mail me nancy.wood@mbsradio.com . Watch for an upcoming edition that will feature more of a study into bullying. Absolutely fascinating, and may be a mini series in itself.

The Anti Bully Blog Series Edition #11

Ok so this is a story that got personal for me. I think in the past I've shared that I was an "anti bully" as a kid and had some REALLY CLOSE friends who I did my best to help. Well this is one of them. This is Natasha's story. She kind of gushes about me which made me feel amazing, and yet I still feel like I could have done more for her. I digress, I'll go into that with the follow up post, today's story is Natasha's, not my view on it. There are parts in this that may upset people, I'll be honest I was upset when I learned some of this story. You'll see what I mean so without further delay Natasha's story :

I like to start off by saying Nancy’s right when she says she was not the one bullied, but has a lot of friends that where. Over the years she was my rock though my transition from grade 5 to 6, as well through Jr. High school. I would like to make this clear right now if it was not for friends like Nancy’s love and support I would have never lived through grade 6.

A lot of my bulling started when my parents decided to put me back up a grade in grade 5 after holding me back in grade 1, upon our move back to NS from Ontario. After moving back to NS and discovering I have a learning disability, my parents thought it best that I redo grade 1,to be sure I picked up anything I had missed in Ontario. At that time I was still in early French Immersion, it was not till grade 3 that I started school in English. The summer after grade 3 we moved out to Cole Harbour, I started grade 4 and everything went well. All though the children from the upper grades quickly noticed that I was more developed then most the other girls my age, the tormenting about stuffing my bra did not bother me that much.

October 31of grade 5 that was all about to change, that night I was trying to tell my dad that I was not getting something in school and he turned to me and said “if you’re doing as bad as you think, why do they want to be put up a grade into grade 6. From the moment I walked into the classroom Nancy befriended me. I quickly learned who the “cool” kids were. Although within to classroom I was made to feel welcome with Mr. B, on the playground was a different story. As most girls did I developed a crush on one of the “cool” kids. Well shortly after some of the kids found out about it, and had one of the “cool” girls ask me out for one of the “cool” boys. It was not the guy I liked but I thought it would get me in to the “cool” group, so I said yes. The next day in font of every one she comes up to me with the “cool” guys making fun of me saying “why would any of them want to date you” and that’s how the hell started. A few months later, one of the other girl’s started again with saying that I stuff my bra. She then pulled up my bra and top in front of the both grade 6 classes. Things like this continued for the rest of the year.

When Jr. High started it got worse, I was put in a class part time with other children with learning disabilities. This special class worked as both my saving grace and the source of my bulling through Jr. High. This class gave me a family of support; it taught me that I was not alone with my learning disability. There were other kids just like me, going through the same thing. But in the regular classroom the other children felt I was getting “special treatment”, when I was doing much better mark wise then most of the other children. What they did not see is the long hours I was putting in at home to even keep up with my school work. These good marks came because Miss. H who took the time to help me figure out how I learn best, which are skills I’m thankful for today. The other children saw it as cheating and reminded me of this on a daily basis.

By the time grade 9 came I was used to the bulling, I’d get blamed for the teacher finding out who was cheating on tests in class. That year I almost got beat up for telling on the person who threw the teachers’ slides out the window, when I was not even in the class at the time that it happened. I had gone home sick earlier that day and only few people noticed I was not there. Later on the year I was blamed for telling on the person who stole the teachers glasses. That day I was not even in school, I was at the hospital getting my wisdom teeth out. Although I did take the blame for both things, to protect someone, who had told me it was them .

After Jr. High, life got a little easier in high school, when I met more people like me, who enjoyed art. I was able to blend in more in high school. Then I after it come out in grade 12 that I was sexually abused by my step-father, from I age of 9 to 16, everyone felt so bad no one blamed me for anything after that.

To those who watch people getting bullied, you never know if there’s bigger secret someone is keeping. The bulling never seemed as bad as what I went through at home.

To those who are being bullied I know it’s hard but you’ll make it through it. I know it doesn’t feel like it now, but you become a stronger person because of it. I know it is hard tell an Adult from fear of it getting worse. Start by realizing you’re not alone in your story, reach out to friends to help you through it. I wish I had the strength to tell but I did not. I thank god every day for sending me people like Nancy that help me though it and had the strength to tell when the bulling got too bad for me to take at the time.

To those who bullied me for years, I forgive you for the hell you put me through, and thank you for teaching me how to stand up for myself. It was a hard lesson to learn that way, but it gave me the strength and knowledge to write this, so my story might help others going though that same hell.

Thanks again SO much to Natasha for sharing her story, knowing her through some of the worse parts I've gotta say that she's come a LONG way. The Follow up to this story is coming Wednesday, keep your eyes peeled for it. Remember any time you want to contact me with anything related to the blog series you can FB me, OR send me an e-mail nancy.wood@mbsradio.com .It's confidential unless you give me permission to use your name, Natasha was cool with this more so for the ending as I'm sure you understand. I'll end with a big thanks to the creator of the logo, Nate. Keep an eye out for the follow up!

The Anti Bully Blog Series, Edition #10 Follow Up

So wanted to start by thanking Shawn for sharing the story he had. I saw Shawn during the summer at a station event and he told me how much he LOVED the blog series and if it was coming back. So it seemed only fitting to share HIS story as my first listener story after the Hiatus.

I don’t know about you but reading his story it sounded JUST like some thing you’d read in one of the Chicken Soup books, and I think that’s FANTASTIC! You can read those books, but they’re not some one who could live just down the street from you. It BEYOND sucks that Kyle felt that way and I am SO glad that he found his way out in Shawn. If you caught my first post after the break I said “Be a friend to some one who needs it”. Sounds so simple doesn’t it? So small a gesture, and come to realize it COULD save a life. It’s something we were taught at a VERY young age, how to be a friend, so clearly it can’t be terribly difficult, but it can make a WORLD of difference.

I’m sure we’ve all heard the saying “ A friend in need is a friend indeed”. Anyone can be that friend who you go to the fair with, or play video games with, but a TRUE friend is the one who has 4 wheel drive on their truck and picks you up during a snow storm without hesitation. Or the friend you wake up at 2am because you broke up with your significant other and they’re at your house within 5 min, no questions asked. And when you go that extra mile for some one, they’re pretty quick to be that friend right back when you need them, and guess what, one day you’ll need them too.

Do I expect you to like EVERYONE? No, it’s not possible, you’ll always meet people you don’t like but you being a jerk? Really? Do you want that person you don’t like to make you a lesser person. Remember what Thumper said “If you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything at all”.

I want to thank Shawn for sharing his Incredible story, and allowing me to share it on the Anti-Bully Blog! Shawn you ARE an Anti-Bully! If you’ve got a story you think would make for a GREAT future edition you can e-mail me nancy.wood@mbsradio.com with any questions or contributions, EVERYONE has a story and I would LOVE to hear yours. Remember ALL posts are kept confidential unless the author gives me permission to share their name, like Shawn did.

Also want to thank Nate, the creator of the Anti-Bully Logo. Keep your eyes peeled for the next edition featuring a girl I grew up with who REALLY went through A LOT!

The Anti Bully Blog Series, Edition #10

Ok so this post was written by a Listener I ran into over the summer who asked me when the series was coming back. My response, when I have some stories to share. SO Shawn shared one with me, one of his experiences.

One day, when I was a freshman in high school, I saw a kid from my class was walking to the bus .His name was Kyle.It looked like he was carrying all of his books.

I thought to myself, "Why would anyone bring home all his books on a Friday? He must really be a nerd."
I had quite a weekend planned so I shrugged my shoulders and went on.

As I was walking, I saw a bunch of kids point at him ad then started running toward him. They ran at him, knocking all his books out of his arms and tripping him he landed hard in the hall .

His glasses went flying, and I saw them land on the floor about ten feet from him .

He looked up and I saw this terrible sadness in his eyes.

My heart went out to him.

I jogged over to him and as he crawled around looking for his glasses, and I saw a tear in his eye. As I handed him his glasses, I said, "Those guys are jerks. They really should get lives."

He looked at me and said, "Hey thanks!" There was a big smile on his face. It was one of those smiles that showed real gratitude. I helped him pick up his books, and asked him what bus he took .As it turned out, he took the same one as me , so I asked him why I had never seen him before.

He said he had gone to private school before now.

I would have never hung out with a private school kid before .

We talked all the way home.

Monday morning came, and there was Kyle with the huge stack of books again.
I stopped him and said, "Boy, you are gonna really build some serious muscles with this pile of books everyday!

He just laughed and handed me half the books.

Kyle and I became best friends .When we were seniors in high school he had all the ladies and i was just on the sidelines, we began to think about after high school . Kyle decided on college , me i wanted to take a break from school . So kyle moved to Toronto to go to college and we lost touch.

I knew that we would always be friends, that the miles would not ever be a problem.

teased him all the time about being a nerd.

The other day i got a email from him and i couldnt belive it was him , this is what it says :



Dear Shawn

"I want to tell you that being a friend to someone is the best gift you can give them.

I am going to tell you a story" , the friday we first met i had planned to kill myself over the weekend. i cleaned out my locker that day , that is why i had so much books i didnt want my mom have to do it when i was gone but thankfully, I was saved. It was because you cared enough to help me when i was beeing bullied in high school and when nobody seemed to care i begain to think who would miss me and i decided against killing myself " .



After i read the email i didnt realize my actions would have so much depth to a persons life .


Never underestimate the power of your actions. With one small gesture you can change a person's life for
better or for worse!

Friends are angels who lift us to our feet when our wings have trouble remembering how to fly."
There is no beginning or end.. Yesterday is history. Tomorrow is mystery.Today is a gift. Show your passion for life and live like its your last day. above all never give up on hope!!

tell a friend how much you care!!!!!

A REALLY powerful Story want to thank Shawn for sharing it. Don't forget that you can contribute to the Anti Bully Blog Series by e-mailing me nancy.wood@mbsradio.com or via FB. Can't WAIT to hear your story! Want to thank Nate for designing our logo as well. The follow up to today's post will hit the web Friday :)

The Anti Bully Blog Series, IT'S BACK!

So tomorrow is the big day, Back To School. Some Kids are looking forward to a clean slate, some are looking forward to seeing their friends again and SOME are Absolutely dreading it. Now some of the dreaders just HATE School, and for some they’re about to enter back into the world of being pushed into lockers, called every name in the book, and eating their lunches alone. Going home and crying, and BEGGING their parents “Please don’t make me go to School Today”. Enter stage right the Anti- Bully Blog. This was a Project that I started last Spring, a little something I used on my blog to vent, because though I can’t say I endure it, I hate it! The stories I’ve heard about some of the things that some kids have done to others, and the some times dark and grim results, it’s sickening that people in general do this AT ALL, let alone kids. And THAT is exactly why TODAY the Anti-Bully Blog returns. Back in the Spring I got to make contact with Bullying Canada, and Kids Help Phone, and Both will be helping me with the return of the series. I’ve also over the summer made contact with the Teen Resource Center who I hope to work with soon. I’m still sticking to the old format too where I ask YOU to contribute and have since gotten some response. For the record THAT never ends, Questions and contributions CAN be made via FB or E-mail nancy.wood@mbsradio.com and should you choose to remain anonymous that will be respected. Unfortunately EVERYONE has a story. If you’re a teacher reading this it would be amazing if you could use the blog as a tool, OR perhaps encourage students to contribute. If you’re a Student, I ask you to be an Anti Bully

Treat people the way you want to be treated

If you have nothing nice to say, don’t say anything at all

Be a Friend to some one who could use one

Try and talk bullies down (without putting yourself in harms way)

I’m not telling you you have to be best friends with everyone, that’s not possible. There are always going to be people you don’t like. I’m just saying STOP THE INSANITY! If you don’t like some one don’t talk to them. Bullies SUCK point blank…don’t be one! On that note, enjoy your school year, and keep your eyes peeled for the next edition!

Big thanks to Nate, the creator of the Anti- Bullying Logo! Also remember if you've got questions or contributions e-mail me nancy.wood@mbsradio.com Everything is confidential unless you give me permission :)