How I Stopped my Daughter Becoming a Mean Girl
Sending your child to school for the first time is never an easy thing. At five years old their backpacks dwarf them and their ‘you’ll grow into it’ uniform looks like a bad game of Dress Up. They are so tiny, so vulnerable and still your babies. The first day of school is always harder for the parents than the child.
A long line of lingering mums and dads gather at the school entrance, forced grins plastered on their faces with watery eyes giving away their true distress as they slowly edge towards the school gates waving frantically. Their children are completely fine, but parents worry. It’s what makes us good parents.
I’d done everything I could think of to make my daughter’s first few months of school as easy as possible for her. My daughter, Katie, is one of the eldest in her class and by the time she was six years old we had already spoken about routine and getting to school on time; about how to make friends and listen to the teacher; about eating the fruit in her packed lunch and, most importantly, about what she had to do if anyone was mean to her in class.
The dreaded ‘B’ word – Bullying.
Every school has at least one, and every child suffers at the hands of them at one time or another throughout their childhood. If you’re lucky it may just be a leer or a whisper, but if you’re unlucky it may be years upon years of psychological, emotional and physical abuse. I was ready for it. I had told my eldest child about being strong, standing up for herself, saying ‘no’ to peer-pressure, and not being afraid to tell the teacher.
She would be tougher than I ever was, she would never feel the fear I did as a child. I knew what to do, I was ready for it.
What I wasn’t ready for was the day I found out that the class bully was in fact my own child.
It was a sunny spring afternoon when the phone rang. I was in the kitchen clearing up the dinner plates and Katie was in her bedroom doing her homework while her younger brother watched TV. One of the mums from the school was on the phone, a mum I’d known for a long time, in fact our children had played together since they were toddlers.
It wasn’t strange that she would call me, sometimes it was to arrange a play date or just to ask a school related question. She sounded hesitant though, I instantly worried that something had happened to her daughter, Sarah.
“Sorry to ring you so close to bedtime,” she stammered. “I just thought you needed to know, I’ve had Sarah in tears all afternoon. She doesn’t want to go to school tomorrow, she’s too scared. She says Katie has been bullying her.”
I held on to the kitchen cabinet as the house tipped on its axis, pressing the phone closer to my ear making sure I had heard properly. Bullying? My sweet, kind six year old who at that very moment was doing her homework had reduced another child to tears? Surely this was an over-reaction? I told my friend I would talk to Katie and my husband and get back to her.
Mark, my husband, looked up at that moment and I explained everything to him. Immediately he jumped up to ask our eldest to come downstairs to talk to us. I shot him a warning look and he sat back down, this wasn’t the time to scream and shout and reprimand.
We had to discuss this first, as unified parents, before we spoke to her. This was bullying. Bullying! We needed a plan. There are plenty of books and articles on what to do if your child is the victim of bullying – but what do you do if it’s your kid that is upsetting someone else?
In hushed tones, downstairs with the door shut so our daughter wouldn’t hear us, we discussed the next steps.
- We would calmly ask Katie if all was well at school and assess the situation.
- We would check the facts.
- If she was guilty we would make sure she understood the severity of her actions. She would apologise and… uhm… then what?
Where had we gone wrong?
If she was guilty would that mean that WE had failed?
Mark was quick to point out that I had to be careful not to overreact here, he knew my history of having suffered at the hands of bullies at more than one school, and he knew that I was likely to take this personally. His daughter is the apple of his eye, she has him wrapped around his little finger, he couldn’t imagine for one second she had the capacity within her to hurt someone’s feeling.
But I could.
Katie is a lovely child but she is smart, the smartest in her class in fact. She’s also very pretty and, because I taught her how to be, she is a very confident, quick witted little girl. That’s a lethal combination – had I brought up a Mean Girl? Six years old may seem young but it’s old enough to know what you are doing.
I wasn’t prepared to brush this off; we had to nip this in the bud immediately.
We called for her and Katie skipped down the stairs the happy, bubbly and obedient little girl that she is (no difficult home life or domestic issues here, so how could she be a bully? Surely all bullies were troubled insecure children?). She saw our faces and instantly blanched. I was watching her closely and I didn’t like what I saw.
“Katie, Sarah is too scared to go to school tomorrow. She said things have been difficult lately, can you explain?” Mark asked, keeping his voice calm and neutral, ensuring that he didn’t accuse her of anything or imply any wrong doing. I was impressed. Katie wasn’t.
Straight away she started screaming and crying. She said it wasn’t her fault, that she had a new friend now… the new girl in class… that Sarah didn’t fit in. That she didn’t like her. That her new friend thought it would be funny to call her names.
Katie ran off slamming doors. I found her huddled by the side of her bed in a tight ball sobbing uncontrollably, her sweet little face scarlet and blotchy. Her father had asked her ONE question, I hadn’t even said a word yet, but her reaction was everything we needed to know.
Our own daughter had admitted to having been mean and spiteful, but she clearly also knew she had done wrong. There was at least a glimmer of hope.
She saw the disappointment in my eyes and I knew then that any punishment I gave her was never going to be as rough as the way she was feeling right now. I coaxed her out of her hiding place, I explained that she had made another little girl, a friend, hurt and that was just about the worst thing one person could do to another. We were going to make it right though. This ended today.
I explained to Katie that she had been a terrible friend, but that this didn’t mean she was destined to become a terrible person. That she could make it better and she could change. We all make mistakes, it’s how we rectify them that matters.
My husband looked on confused as I asked him to put our son to bed and I helped my trembling daughter put on her shoes. We were going to Sarah’s house and we were going to talk about this with Sarah and her mother. I didn’t care that it was late and my daughter was an emotional wreck – if a woman calls my house and tells me my child is a bully then she can help me make it better.
I wasn’t going to let this drive a wedge between me and my friend either, I was certain together we could sort this out.
I drove five minutes down the road and I knocked on Sarah’s door.
Her mother answered and immediately looked shocked. Maybe she thought I was going to kick off and get angry for what she had accused my child of being. I wasn’t. Our young daughters hid behind our legs as I apologised and explained that Katie had done wrong. She had behaved terribly but was sorry – very sorry. I told Sarah she had been brave to tell her mummy and that I would make sure that the teachers knew to keep an eye on the entire group of girls in the class, I explained that this wasn’t going to happen again. My friend gave me a big smile and I breathed a sigh of relief.
The girls gave each other a watery smile and a hug and ran upstairs to play. Because they are six years old, and that’s how quickly children make up. But I didn’t get over it as quickly, I was left with a ball of disappointment heavy in the pit of my stomach for days.
I watched my daughter like a hawk for months after that. I made sure those two girls had extra play dates, that Sarah’s mummy saw I was trying and I ensured that Katie understood that every sharp little comment that came out of her mouth could cut deeper than any knife. That there is a difference between having the strength to stand up for yourself, and craving that strength so much that you seek power in belittling others.
Three years have passed since my daughter was outed as a bully and her friends have come and gone. Sarah and Katie are still friends and still have the odd squabble, but normal stuff. But that’s life, my daughter is no angel and neither is anyone else’s. Her father and I are always here to talk to and we will always help her, she knows that. As a parent you need to understand when to step in and when to let them sort it out themselves.
But I’ll never forget the face of that scared six year old Sarah. I still can’t get over the fact that my daughter had instilled such fear in another, and how if Sarah’s mother and I hadn’t faced this head on just what my daughter may have become. My kind, sweet, sassy little Katie could easily have become a Mean Girl, a class bully for life, the kind of girl I spent my childhood fearing. It was a close call.
