Bullying: What Conversations Are You Having Today?

Last Sunday we were on our way to try family pictures.  There were a lot of things to talk about: don’t argue with your siblings during the photo shoot, remember photographers sometimes say silly things to make us smile, please don’t correct the silly statements, yes you can have the iPads with dinner, remember no fighting, please don’t mess up your hair until after the pictures, remember what I said about arguing, yes you do have to pose with this family. And then the phone rang, and an email came in, and we got notifications that we had new text messages…all from the school’s alert system.  The kids were confused as the system is most commonly associated with winter weather announcements, but this time the middle school principal was letting families know that a secondary student in the district had unexpectedly passed away over the weekend. Counselors would be available if anyone needed to talk. It wasn’t the conversation that I wanted to have. 

Over the course of the week funeral arrangements were made and shared, an obituary was posted, and details made their way through our small community that a young life was lost as a result of suicide. As more students talked it became apparent that this young lady had been bullied.  She had tried so many things, but the bullying wouldn’t stop. Even in her memory, the bullying has continued as it as recently come to light that a cruel joke about her passing has been circulating throughout the school. Several of the perpetrators have been identified and the school has doled out punishments.  Explaining that her passing was at her own hand and then asking if they have heard the joke, wasn’t a conversation that I wanted to have with my children. 

Let me be perfectly clear, neither I nor my children know this student or her family; however,  that doesn’t keep me from being heart broken and physically sick. She was 13 years old--I have a child who is 13 years old.  She spent last summer raising money to help a litter of kittens--my oldest son spent last night having a sleepover in the family room with our most recent litter of kittens.  She was bullied--several of my children have experienced various degrees of bullying because they are or do things differently. I, like I’m sure this young lady’s family did, can tell my kids that fitting in isn’t all that important and that really everyone is born to stand out, but when you are in middle school, isn’t belonging really everything?  I’m years past my middle school days, but I still vividly remember the moments of belonging and those when I didn’t. Don’t you? She had siblings who adored her and I’m sure they are lost wondering what they could have done differently. For all the arguing that they do, I can’t fathom what my own children would do, think, or feel if they lost one of their siblings, particularly under these circumstances. That isn’t a conversation that I want to have with my children. 

I continue listing what our families have in common, but the bottom line is that this child could have easily been one of mine. Or she could have been one of my nieces or nephews. Or a neighbor’s child. Or a friend’s child.  Or someone that I did know more intimately than sharing a hometown address. Sadly, her experience isn’t unique: 

• In the past three years, teen suicide has increased 25% in adolescents ages 15-19
• Suicide is one of the leading causes of death for adolescents ages 10-24
• 1 in 100,000 children ages 10 to 14 die by suicide each year
• 7 in 100,000 youth ages 15 to 19 die by suicide each year.
• Bully victims are between 2 to 9 times more likely to consider suicide than non-victims, according to studies by Yale University

According to stopbullying.gov, in 2017 approximately 20% of students in the United States ages 12-18 reported experiencing bullying, and 19% of students in grades 9-12 reported being bullying on school grounds the previous school year. Almost 30% of students in the same study reported bullying others. Interestingly, the research found that when bystanders, staff or students intervene, the bullying stops within 10 seconds 57% of the time although the report didn’t mention if that was a temporary or long-term solution. 

When you look at the statistics, these children are or at least should have been our responsibility.  But that isn’t a conversation we want to have; it is too hard, too sad to think about, or bullies are just a fact of the world because after all they have always been around. But then one day the statistics get a little closer to home or they have a name and face that we recognize and we wonder why nobody did anything. But who do we think is going to do something if the something doesn’t start with us? I get that the problem is multi-faceted and there isn’t an easy solution.  Maybe instead of focusing on the big picture, we can look at the smaller solutions that often start with the conversations that we can have.  There is a big difference between normal kids-will-be-kids behavior and kids being bullies.  We also need to stop accepting bad behaviors from parents in the drop-off line at school, teachers in the classroom, aides in the lunchroom, and coaches on the practice field.  We need to label the behaviors what they are—bullying, and we need to demand that they stop. It’s time we have the conversations regardless if we want to or not because kids are dying. 

In the last 48 hours in my house, we’ve talked about what happened to this young lady, we’ve talked about feelings, and we’ve talked about how to ask for help if we aren’t okay.  We’ve talked about how to stand up for others even if it isn’t the popular thing to do. And we’ve talked about how to take yourself out of a situation even if literally running away from a situation is necessary to keep yourself physically and mentally healthy. There have been a lot of: “Mom I don’t want to have this conversation,” but we’re still having it.  

We’ve also been talking about how to check your behaviors to make sure that nothing you are doing is contributing to bullying.  And that has yielded a whole other round of mother I don’t want to have this conversation.  The conversations haven’t been fun and there have been tears on both sides.  If I’m completely honest it isn’t the conversation that I wanted to have either, but I’m in a battle to keep my kids alive despite the statistics so I will do what it takes. What conversations are you having today?

Guest Blogger Cynthia Gregory---Autism: The Middle Style

Today's guest post is by the amazing, talented, and always humorous Cynthia Gregory who you might know from her website as CGregoryRun. Cynthia is a mother to three equally amazing kiddos and loves everyone that lives on or near the spectrum, no matter what they believe.

Each April, every person in the autism community who can put two sentences together takes to the internet to spread awareness, acceptance, raise money, fight, complain and praise the accomplishments made. Sometimes all of that happens in a single article or at least in the comments. If you’re unaware of the ups and downs in the community, let me simplify it for you. We’re a big family. One in 68 people has autism and that means there are a lot of people at the holiday gathering in April. Families bicker quite a lot. We fight about causes of autism, how to treat it or whether to eradicate it or accept neurodiversity as our platform. We discuss and argue nomenclature and where money goes to research organizations and which television shows are presenting autism truthfully and respectfully while not ignoring the challenges of living on and near the spectrum. Sometimes there are even drunken brawls that end in a smearing of blue and puzzles and taupe all over the dinner table and that’s okay, because we’re still family when the month is over and fights can lead to progress.

We still recognize each other wherever we go. We reach out to offer help to the new relatives on the block. We encourage each other most of the time when things are tough and you can bet your bottom dollar that if any one of our family members has a problem, we all swing into action like a well-trained special forces squadron. When we are together, we are strong and unstoppable.

When I think of how I relate to everyone in April, I can’t help but remember what happened the night I graduated from college. Do you know this guy?

This is Father Guido Sarducci, a character created by comedian Don Novello. It’s important that you have an idea of his accent before I tell this story. Unlike a lot of my friends, I had no clear path set up after graduating. I had no idea what I wanted to be and there I was all grown-up. I was just elated to be finished with school and my mother threw a wonderful party for me. I got wasted. At the end of the evening I was perched over the porcelain throne in my mother’s bathroom while she held my hair and laughed at me for trying to speak other languages I had learned in college. Then I broke out into Father Guido-speak. My mother had no intention of letting me off the hook, so she encouraged the discussion by laughing more and asking me where I was from.

“The Middle”, I said.

“The Middle? Where is that?”, my mom asked.

“Not the left side, not the right side. Straight down the middle.”

Now, why in the world would that be the thing I think of when writing about April and Autism? It’s simple. For all the fussing relatives throwing puzzle pieces, lights and blue jello at each other, there are a whole lot of us that come from The Middle. We get both sides. We understand why Aunt Rita hates the puzzle piece, we agree that Uncle Ned feels a connection to blue and we find ourselves hoping the family can sit down at least one time in April and hug, or at least not throw things and make Grandma cry.

Whatever you believe April should be about and how it is discussed, let’s do ourselves a favor and try harder to respect each other, listen to differing opinions and try our best not to sling food during the family portrait, for Grandma’s sake.

The Tale of a Super Service Dog

Yesterday something happened that we haven’t been able to do for a very, very long time---years in fact. We were able to make an appointment at a portrait studio, keep the appointment, and actually get pictures taken.  Not just any pictures—pictures of both kids together, and even more amazingly pictures of both kids INDIVIDUALLY. Yep, I mean Caden had his picture taken totally and completely by himself. And we walked out without any tears, if you don’t count the ones that my husband shed as he was looking over the receipt. 

Oh don’t get me wrong, we had limitations. Caden wasn’t going to lay down for any pictures and he was pretty determined that he was sitting criss-cross applesauce, but he was smiling and at least looking in the direction of the camera.  In fact, on our way out, he wanted to know when we could get pictures again. Then my husband cried some more because he knows that this may be the beginning of a very long and expensive relationship between me and the portrait studio because there isn’t much I enjoy more in the world than planning and executing pictures of my beautiful kiddos. And honestly I’ve got years to make up when it comes to Caden, but I probably won’t push my luck……..too much.

So what’s changed? Yes, Caden has gotten older, but the one thing we are finding out the hard way is that autism just gets older too. Challenges exist, they just change over time.  Once we figure out one thing, there is something new to deal with. But maybe that also means that we are dealing with the old things well enough to make them…well…old things that we already dealt with. Maybe the stars and moon were perfectly aligned. Maybe the luck-of-the-Irish was still with us even though we aren’t even close to being Irish. 

My best explanation though is that 7 months ago we met Caden’s “bestest” friend Elf. I know people probably get sick of me saying it, but the dog has truly been a miracle in our lives. He has given Caden so much peace and security in a way we haven’t been able to that it has allowed Caden to explore life a little. We’ve had several successful trips to the mall. We have had some major medical procedures that I’m not sure we would have handled so well pre-Elf. His anxiety level has significantly decreased in public, and even before and after school transitions (something that has always been an ugly process) have become smooth…most days. Most nights he stays in his room, and we haven’t had nearly the number of night terrors that we were dealing with last summer. Meltdowns still occur, but they don’t seem to last as long because Elf’s kisses and “over” seem to have him giggling quicker than any other tactic we’ve tried over the years.

Don’t get me wrong, Elf has not cured Caden’s autism. We still have a good ol’ fashion case of the communication challenged, social interacting nightmarish combination of repetitive behaviors that define autism so clearly. We still, without a doubt, have all of the sensory processing challenges that we have struggled with for years. We are still very much in a fight to give our son the brightest future possible. We are still very much in a fight against autism.

What’s different though is that we have someone else, a furry mass of unconditional love, to help us in the battle. He’s exactly the additional tool that we were hoping for. The more we practice the better Elf gets at hide-and-find (tracking), he and Caden tether well together, and Elf has figured out behavior disruption more impressively than we ever imagined. In fact, he heard Caden’s screech the other day at the playground even though the entire Children’s House (20ish kids), E1 (15ish kids), and E2 (15ish kids) were at the park screaming and having fun as well. What can I say…he knows his boy.

All of this and he also just happens to be Caden’s best friend too.