As a child, I was never fond of Valentines Day.  I remember just like it was yesterday.  The teacher would always tape a bag to the back of our desks and each person would be allowed to drop their Valentines Day card into the sack.  We would do this toward the end of the day so as soon as everyone delivered their cards we would be dismissed and go home.  That’s when I realized just how many friends I had.

The day before our party, my mom and I would count the cards and make sure we had enough for everyone to get one.  I would then sit at the kitchen table and write each kids name on the card then print my name at the bottom.  I wanted to make sure everybody knew that I had given them one.  Most of the cards that I received from our party were not as nice as the ones that I gave out.  Some even had the words, “I hate you.” on them.  I knew I would get them.  It happened every year for some reason so I would rush home and quickly go through them and hide all the ones that were not nice.  That way my parents were never to see them.

I don’t know what I did or what I said but from the 1st through the sixth grade I was the one who was being bullied and Valentines Day was one of the worse days in my childhood.  Telling the teacher or an adult only seemed to make it worse.  One day, I decided that I would end it by sticking up for myself.  One of the kids decided to pick a fight with me during lunch.  The teacher said something to the bully of the day but that only made things worse.  The bully then decided he would meet me after school.  I was there waiting for him and it seemed that the rest of the elementary school was there as well.  I hung in there for a couple of good swings but got jumped by others and ended up on the bottom of the pile.  To this day I don’t know why it ended because after it was over I didn’t see an adult anywhere. I got myself up and walked home.  That was my last day at that school.  My parents moved me to another school the very next day.

I made it through my childhood years without further incident.  As a parent of three, I never have told them about my experiences as a child but I have always told them to tell us if they have ever felt like they were being bullied.   Thankfully, they never have.  Not saying that they were, just saying that they have never told us that they were being bullied.

Being bullied can have a lasting effect on a child.  Did it have an effect on me?  I guess it did but I think I turned out okay without having to go to some type of therapy.  Some kids today can’t take it and they don’t make it to adulthood.  I think it’s so sad to hear this.  It breaks my heart because I know what this child is going through.

Bullying is wrong.  I wish we could end it without it ending in suicide.