My Worst Nightmare. Was this really my daughter?

I will never forget the day my daughter told me that Bethany, a girl in her 4th grade class, was annoying her.

“What is she doing to you?” I questioned, instinctively protective.

“She’s following me around on the playground and sitting by me at lunch!” she quipped, as if that would sum things up and get me squarely on her side.

“You mean she’s trying to be friends with you?” I asked incredulously.

I realized immediately that I had a problem on my hands. I was raising my own worst nightmare. Smack dab in the middle of my brood of five kids, was a charismatic, sassy, leggy, blonde, dance-y, athletic girl oozing confidence … and apparently annoyance, directed towards another little girl that wasn’t lucky enough to be her.

Inconveniently for my daughter, her own mother WAS Bethany in grade school. Freckled of face and frizzy of hair, I was an Army brat, always the new girl clamoring for a friend, drawn to the natural confidence of girls like my daughter. This conversation found me vacillating between heartache and fury, but one thing I knew for sure: Mama was about to put her money where her mouth had been all these years. The battle of two very strong wills ensued at my home the next morning.

It wasn’t pretty, but I prevailed. On any given day my daughter and a handful of her cohorts ruled the roost. One quick phone call to Bethany’s mother that same evening confirmed my worst fears. My daughter and her posse were using everything short of a can of “Cling Free” to rid themselves of the annoying Bethany.

I’m sure there are parents out there who will say I overreacted. But, I firmly believe we’ve got to start to address our country’s bullying epidemic right at the heart; by re-defining bullying at its very core. To me, the rejection and complete lack of interest my daughter and her “clique” displayed toward Bethany was the beginning of a subtle type of bullying.

It is true, (confirmed to me by Bethany’s mom and teachers), that there was no overt unkindness or name-calling etc., just rejection; a complete lack of interest in someone they wrongly concluded had nothing to offer them. After experiencing childhood myself and raising five of my own, I’ve been on every side of the bullying social dynamic, and I am convinced this is where it begins. A casual assessment and quick dismissal by an outsider.

It happens at every age and stage of life, race, creed and religion. Everyone is jockeying for their own spot on the Social Food Chain. Parents need to call it by name, speak it out loud, shine a bright light in its ugly face. We need to admit to our children that we too experience this, even as adults. It’s tempting to ‘curry favor’ and ‘suck-up’ to the individual a rung of two above you on the Social Ladder.

But every single human being deserves our attention and utmost respect.

We have to constantly remind our children and ourselves that everyone can bring unexpected and unanticipated value to our lives – if we let them.

It’s simply not enough to instruct your children to, “Be Nice!” You’ve got to be more specific than that. Kids think if they aren’t being outright unkind, they are being nice. We know better.

As for my girl, I instructed her that she was going to invest some time and energy getting to know Bethany. I assigned her to come home from school the next day and report three cool things she found out about Bethany, that she didn’t previously know. My strong-willed child dug in. She did not want to do that. I dug in deeper.

I explained the “ATM Machine Analogy.” My daughter had social currency to spare. She could easily make a withdrawal on behalf of this little girl, risking very little.

“Let’s invest!” I enthused and encouraged.

She was still buggy with me when I picked her up from school. She explained how her friends’ mothers, “stay out of such matters” and let their daughters, “choose their own friends!” (Such wise women.) And then she told me three cool things about Bethany that she didn’t previously know.

I checked back in with Bethany’s mother by phone two weeks later. It’s called follow through. (I don’t think enough of us are doing that.

We “helicopter” over our kids’ wardrobes, nutrition, sleep schedules, hygiene, science fair projects and then pride ourselves on how “hands off” we are on social issues.

Seriously? You micro-manage the literal crap out of every thing your child does from his gluten intake to his soccer cleats, but THIS you stay out of? No wonder there’s zero accountability and a bullying culture!

Bethany’s mother assured me that she had been welcomed into the fold of friendship and was doing well.

Bethany’s family moved to another state a few years later. My daughter cried when they parted ways. They still keep in touch through all their social media channels. She was and is a really cool girl, with a lot to offer her peers.

But the real value was to my daughter. She gained so much through that experience. She is now a 20-year-old college sophomore, with a widely diverse group of friends. She is kind, inclusive and open to all types of people. When she was malleable, impressionable and mine to guide:

She learned her initial instinct about people isn’t always correctly motivated.
She learned you can be friends with the least likely people; the best friendships aren’t people that are your “type!” In the world of friendship, contrast is a plus.
She learned there are times, within a given social framework, that you are in a position to make a withdrawal on behalf of someone else. Be generous, invest! It pays dividends.

But, most importantly, she learned that, while I may not be overly-interested in what she gets on her Science Fair project, couldn’t care less if she’s Lactose Intolerant or whether her long blonde hair is snarled, I’m going to make sure she treats people right!

Parents — your kids are going to eventually develop the good sense to wear a jacket and eat vegetables. Invest your energy in how they interact in society. If we insist on being the hovering Helicopter Parent Generation, let’s at least hover over the right areas.

by Leslie Blanchard Wife of 1, Mother of 5, Writer who snaps at agingersnapped.com