“I really thought I would be bullied more.” Patch told me as we were curled up for his bedtime snuggle one night. “Being in the A.L.L. program for smart kids, I thought I would get bullied, but I haven’t. I wonder why that is.” Patch’s voice was mildly puzzled as he mused on this topic. I curled my arm around him a little tighter and thought how grateful I am that this has been his experience. I could have said that, and it would probably have been the end of the conversation, but I’ve been trying to do a better job of helping Patch pull his thoughts and emotions out where we can both see them, so instead I asked.
“What do you think it could be?”
“Well, It could be that my school is a good school and doesn’t have bullies. Or it could be that all the bullies have other people they pick on that are not me. Or maybe I just don’t act like a smart kid.” Patch paused a moment for thinking. “I think my school is a good one.”
I nodded my head in the dark. “I agree. What do you think makes your school be a good one?”
“I don’t know.” Patch answered.
It was important for Patch to see the whys of how his school has few troubles with bullying. It all has to do with the culture that has been consciously created at his school.
The importance of school culture became apparent to me when Patch and Gleek attended a previous school. It was a good school, close to home, and full of caring and attentive staff. Then the long-time principal left and took half a dozen of the best teachers with him. The new principal meant well, I could tell that he did, but over time it became apparent that he did not understand behavior modification and sociology. Every policy change and every letter sent home pounded out the importance of safety, rules, and good citizenship. He instituted reward programs for good behavior which then necessitated clearly defining “good behavior” in a series of rules lectures. His policies also emphasized the consequences for those who were not being good citizens of his school. The net effect was to teach the kids to police each other and to watch for infractions. All of this occurred at a time when Gleek was struggling with impulsive behaviors. She knew the rules, she wanted to follow the rules and be rewarded with good citizen slips, but in a fraction of a second she would choose wrong and suddenly discover that she was in trouble. As the new culture solidified, I could tell that it was increasingly hostile to Gleek.
Fortunately we had the option to test our kids for a gifted program, A.L.L, that would transfer them to a new school. Gifted programs have problems of their own. Many times the culture in such a program is one of high expectation and pressure to perform adequately. I approached cautiously, but then I did some research into the school where my kids would attend. I looked at a letter to parents from each of the principals. The old school principal’s letter outlined some new rules and clarified programs designed to manage problem behaviors. The letter from the new school talked about a reading program and was focused on learning. The new school hosted not just a gifted program, but also several classes for autistic kids. The “Life Skills” classes were as integrated into the school activities as possible. This meant that the teachers and staff were teaching tolerance of differences on a daily basis. Older classes had weekly reading buddy sessions with younger classes. We decided to make the switch, not realizing what a godsend it would prove to be.
In Gleek’s sixth grade year, anxiety overcame her. Her impulsive behavior turned inward, to be a constant fear she would do things wrong. It is probable that the high intensity of the academic program was a contributing factor, but the largest reason for it was the hormonal surges of puberty. She began having panic attacks at school, to the point where she would curl up into a non-responsive ball on her classroom floor. Sixth grade is a rough age, kids are changing and generally react by ridicule and avoidance of things that make them uncomfortable. But Gleek’s class was reading buddies with severely autistic kids. They had been taught how to understand and deal with odd behavior. I still remember walking with Gleek to her classroom after she had been out for several days due to anxiety. We were greeted, by kids, with smiles and statements like “we miss you Gleek, when will you be back?” Because of that accepting classroom full of peers, Gleek was able to come back instead of feeling like her anxiety had destroyed all hope of social connection.
The culture of a school matters. It permeates classrooms and the lives of children in them. We were very fortunate that we were able to switch from an (unintentionally) hostile atmosphere to one that was exactly what we needed. We survived the year before I was able to switch by paying close attention to what the school culture was teaching my kids and acting to alleviate it. I’m afraid we deliberately undermined the citizen slip program, teaching our kids that we cared about them being good people, not about them bringing home prizes. I made private deals with teachers about how to handle Gleek’s impulsive behaviors. Even in the much better culture of the second school, I still paid attention. Many of the lessons of public school are taught in the hallways, lunchrooms, and on the playgrounds. How the staff handles those situations makes a world of difference. Thus my panic attack girl was not ostracized, and my gifted program son has not experienced bullying in his elementary school. I wish more school administrators had a full comprehension of how to build such healthy school cultures.
(Also relevant to this post Strategies for dealing with a bully