School bullies many years later.

[Howie Felterbush]

The bully I had in school is (according to my sources) a baggage handler for an airline.

I hope he gets sucked into a jet engine.

 

[Cainkane1]

It's taken me a little while to respond to this thread because bullying is such an issue with me. I grew up in a house with an older sibling who is a bully and was bullied in both elementary and junior high school.

The junior high experience was a real psychological horror, with a denouement that's worth thinking about.

I transferred to this suburban school from a city school. I had spent 7th grade just trying to survive. I was beaten up for lunch money and the school was totally out of control. My grades had plummeted to C's and D's and my parents decided to move out of that school district. This was not their only reason for moving, but it was a big part of it.Two years later, there was a major scandal about the open drug usage (bearing in mind this was 1966) and violence in the school I had left.

I then went to a school where all the girls were perfectly groomed and the boys seemed very savvy, to this geeky, chubby city girl. Because I had such terrible grades, they put me into a remedial class, instead of the accelerated class I had been in before. And that's where I ran into Susan. I have no memory of what started it, but she, and the posse that she led, bullied, harassed, and once or twice physically assaulted me. My parents came to speak to the guidance counselor, but he was no help. I grimly set to work to bring my grades back up so I could be in a better class, but it was uphill work. This wasn't because the work was hard, indeed I had learned it all the year before. It was because every step of the way, Susan was there.

One incident I remember most sharply, and it's going to sound very innocuous. After gym class, and gym class was nothing short of torture, we got back into our school clothes and stood by the door until released. I got there first and Susan second. There was a song popular then by the Boxtops, "The Letter." Susan had made up new words to it, each a vicious insult about me. She sang it loudly and proudly. And I might add, the teachers did nothing, even though they were there. To this day, if that song comes on the radio, I switch it off and sometimes start shaking, feeling trapped again with her voice ringing out.

Well, I succeeded in 9th grade in being placed in a much better class where I made some good friends and was able to relax a little. I still saw Susan in the hallways, but was able to avoid any real contact. Plus by that time she had moved on to the next victim. To my great relief, we were assigned to different high schools.

About a year and a half later, I became quite ill one night with what we now know was a gall bladder attack. My mother was sitting by my bed and trying to get in touch with the doctor, because she wanted me in the hospital. The radio was on and there was news of an accident. A group of six or seven high school kids had been joyriding on Northern Parkway. Their car flew off the overpass and landed on top of another car on the Jones Falls Expressway. The driver of the car beneath was killed; he was one of my school mate's father who owned a car dealership and had been on the way home from work. Two of the kids in their car were killed, one of whom was riding in the trunk and the other in the back seat. The girl in the back seat was Susan.

I had a high temperature and the world had already taken on a sense of unreality. Hearing that added another layer of surrealism, and I thought perhaps I had imagined it. But it was true. I am ashamed to say that I felt a strong sense of relief, although no joy in her death. I remember my mother grieving for her parents.

Fast forward 30 years.

While out running errands one day, I decided on a whim to have my nails done. This is unusual for me--I'm not usually a manicured person, but hey, it was a treat. I stopped in a salon and their manicurist was indeed free. I sat down and she looked at me. "I know you from somewhere," she said. I'm used to this. I have one of those faces that everyone seems to know, and I smiled and nodded. "No, really," she said. "Where did you go to high school?" I told her and she shook her head. Then, "Where did you go to junior high?" "Old Court." She sat back in her chair and said my name.

Then she said her name, and I realized she was one of the main girls in Susan's posse, who had actively taken part in bullying me. I swallowed hard, and said yes, that's who I was.

"I've thought about you," she said. "I'm so sorry for what we did." I accepted her apology and we both relaxed a little.

I said, "I remember so clearly when Susan was killed." She said, "How much do you know about Susan's life?"

"Nothing."

Susan was raised by a single mother, her and her brother and sister. Her mother had one philosophy about child rearing. Make no rules and therefore no rules can be broken. Susan and her siblings came and went when they pleased. They did drugs in the house and had wild parties. Their mother either did not care or was incapable of setting limits or disciplining. Susan was a child in search of her limits, and no one, not her one parent, not the teachers, no one gave them to her. Throughout elementary and junior high school, she became wilder and wilder. Then in high school, my manicurist decided she had had enough and joined a new crowd, leaving her lifelong friend behind.

The last time she spoke to Susan, Susan commented that she was getting tired of the wild life and was going to settle down a bit and work at her studies. She was just going out that night for one last party with her friends.

And indeed, it was her last party. Her brother died of a drug overdose a year later. Her sister took the lessons from her two sad siblings and straightened out her life

And finally, I was able to feel pity for this child, who was never loved enough to be taught how to take care of herself.

At least your tormentor had an excuse for being the way she was. Most of the bullys I had the displeasure to know seemed to have decent enough parents. Some were worthless but most of the parents seemed just fine to me.

The man I'm talking about had a nice mother. His father was a bit of a hick but not a bad man. There was no excuse for his and his friends negative behaviour.

If I was superstitious I'd be tempted to say they were possessed. They were just that crazy and vile.

 

[Cainkane1]

The bully I had in school is (according to my sources) a baggage handler for an airline.

I hope he gets sucked into a jet engine.

That would mess up a good engine. Hopefully he'll screw up in another way.

 

[Howie Felterbush]

That would mess up a good engine. Hopefully he'll screw up in another way.

Good point. Some poor tech would have to scrape his innards out of there. Maybe he'll be holding an American Tourister suitcase and he'll get mauled by a gorilla.

 

[Piggy]

Well a punk who abused his two sisters once got what was comming to him. When the girls could get away from him they moved over 60 miles away. Ok so he was on a motorcycle and he liked to speed. He lost control and he broke both legs and he walks with a permanent limp. His parents went to live near their daughters. He lives alone.

Keep in mind, though, that bullies don't live happy lives. It's not just a matter of how they end up, either. They don't enjoy their lives very much even in their bullying heyday. They tend to live in continual states of stress, anger, loneliness, and paranoia, with the occasional rushes they get from taking stupid risks and abusing other people.

They're victims of their genetic makeup. And because they tend to have family members that share that makeup, they also tend to be victims of bullying themselves.

I know it can be difficult, but you could have some pity on them, you know.

 

[Piggy]

It just occurred to me, this one guy I knew from high school, he ended up shot to death by his wife a couple of years ago.

The other guys... God knows where they are.

My solution to bullies, in the early days, was to befriend them. I was a loner anyway, so they accepted me. In elementary school we used to sneak away during recess and go into the window of one boy's house, drink his dad's malt liquor. We'd take them from the fridge, and replace them with cans from the pantry. There were cases of them stacked up in there. He never knew how many he had.

When we started going to county-wide school, these guys couldn't afford being seen with someone like me anymore. When they turned on me, I had no friends left.

So I became a loner again. I'm still a loner.

 

[Ove]

Some of the bullies in my scoodays were sons of shopowners in my small town. Their fathers were in the "high circles" in the town and their sons obvilusly thought they could do as they very well pleased them. One inherited his fathers Bakery and still runs it, one OD'd a few years after scool and one has been going in and out of Jail ever since. One i particularily remember form the low classes ended scool after 7 years and i distinctly remember seing him a year later with a shovel doing road work, mind you he bragged a lot about how he was happy to quit that "useless scool".

I too was bullied and learned to keep from those quick remarks that could provoke anything.

I feel sad for the way most of those guys wasted their life. Today with a nice job, house, children etc. i can only look back on those guys with pity.

 

[Cainkane1]

Keep in mind, though, that bullies don't live happy lives. It's not just a matter of how they end up, either. They don't enjoy their lives very much even in their bullying heyday. They tend to live in continual states of stress, anger, loneliness, and paranoia, with the occasional rushes they get from taking stupid risks and abusing other people.

They're victims of their genetic makeup. And because they tend to have family members that share that makeup, they also tend to be victims of bullying themselves.

I know it can be difficult, but you could have some pity on them, you know.

If you can feel pity for a bully then more power to you but I personally hated them. The person I drink with in my bar is an anomoly. He interests me. A sick, helpless old punk. He was a monster as a youth and I feel he's a toothless monster now. He's the last surviving gang member. We take turns insulting each other. I insult him indirectly by pointing out how horrible he was. He insults me directly by saying how absurd it is to be a beer aficianado.

I won't hit him and he can't hit me. We fight with words.

 

[Cainkane1]

Some of the bullies in my scoodays were sons of shopowners in my small town. Their fathers were in the "high circles" in the town and their sons obvilusly thought they could do as they very well pleased them. One inherited his fathers Bakery and still runs it, one OD'd a few years after scool and one has been going in and out of Jail ever since. One i particularily remember form the low classes ended scool after 7 years and i distinctly remember seing him a year later with a shovel doing road work, mind you he bragged a lot about how he was happy to quit that "useless scool".

I too was bullied and learned to keep from those quick remarks that could provoke anything.

I feel sad for the way most of those guys wasted their life. Today with a nice job, house, children etc. i can only look back on those guys with pity.

You knew a stupid bully but I know both smart and stupid bullys. The smart ones are the worst. Recreational torment requires imagination and the smart ones come up with the most sadistic ideas.

 

[Cainkane1]

It just occurred to me, this one guy I knew from high school, he ended up shot to death by his wife a couple of years ago.

The other guys... God knows where they are.

My solution to bullies, in the early days, was to befriend them. I was a loner anyway, so they accepted me. In elementary school we used to sneak away during recess and go into the window of one boy's house, drink his dad's malt liquor. We'd take them from the fridge, and replace them with cans from the pantry. There were cases of them stacked up in there. He never knew how many he had.

When we started going to county-wide school, these guys couldn't afford being seen with someone like me anymore. When they turned on me, I had no friends left.

So I became a loner again. I'm still a loner.

A decent person can't befriend a bully unless you do it the way I did which is to wait until they can no longer hurt you. If a person actually enjoys tormenting a person then thre is no way in Hell I'd befriend him or her.

 

[Cainkane1]

Good point. Some poor tech would have to scrape his innards out of there. Maybe he'll be holding an American Tourister suitcase and he'll get mauled by a gorilla.

nah thats no good either. The gorilla would have to be put down. Lets think of something else. Hmmm? How about he runs his mouth off at the wrong person and he gets the slop beat out of him?

 

[Ove]

You knew a stupid bully but I know both smart and stupid bullys. The smart ones are the worst. Recreational torment requires imagination and the smart ones come up with the most sadistic ideas.

No, some of the shop owners sons were quite intelligent, they were just to lazy(or busy) to study. But you are right, there are both types and the smart ones are the worst. It still doesen't help them after scool.

Speaking of that kind of Nemesis there are also the "Most popular bloke on Highscool" and "Most attractive girl". Al Bundy is the epitome of such a type which gets through high scool with the help from various teachers "You CAN'T fail our Quarterback..." and then ends up married to the no-brain-stunning-body Cheerleader. I KNOW the series are a caricature but i think it holds a large element of thruth.

 

[Cainkane1]

No, some of the shop owners sons were quite intelligent, they were just to lazy(or busy) to study. But you are right, there are both types and the smart ones are the worst. It still doesen't help them after scool.

Speaking of that kind of Nemesis there are also the "Most popular bloke on Highscool" and "Most attractive girl". Al Bundy is the epitome of such a type which gets through high scool with the help from various teachers "You CAN'T fail our Quarterback..." and then ends up married to the no-brain-stunning-body Cheerleader. I KNOW the series are a caricature but i think it holds a large element of thruth.

Youd be right. Athletes are as often as not treated preferentially. So are the cheerleaders. They grow up and their glory and beauty fades.

 

[quarky]

It seems fair to say that there is no standard model of the bully. My oldest brother grew up in the same home as I; was very intelligent...so much so that school bored the hell out of him. Being a bad-ass punk was his way of finding something entertaining and exciting.
My reaction to that was to become an athlete.
Luck of the draw, to some extent.

 

[Cainkane1]

It seems fair to say that there is no standard model of the bully. My oldest brother grew up in the same home as I; was very intelligent...so much so that school bored the hell out of him. Being a bad-ass punk was his way of finding something entertaining and exciting.
My reaction to that was to become an athlete.
Luck of the draw, to some extent.

Some of the worst offenders were straight A students and maybe your right. They torment weaker students out of boredom. I believe there are a lot of reasons to bully people. Boredom, jealousy and just plain meanness. The worst bullys were people who were mad all the time. They go to sleep pissed and they woke up the same way.

Since bullys fall into both the have and have not categorys perhaps there is no way to interpret whos going to do what.

I knew very deprived kids who shared what little they had. I knew relatively wealthy kids who wouldn't give you anything but a hard time.

Kindness and evil came in equal measure form every walk of life.

 

[ToddH]

Growing up in a dirt poor family that constantly moved from town to town, I was always targeted by bullies looking to beat up the poor new kid. I imagine I was quite the sight whenever I showed up for my first day of school. Being from a poor white trash family, my clothes were always in terrible shape and about ten years out of date. What made it worse was that I was also quiet and enjoyed making music and drawing. Of course, the one good thing about being poor is you learn to fight early on which meant bullies were the ones that usually ended up beaten and bloodied after confronting me.

I had one former bully approach my sister the other day and asked her how I was doing. After conversing with him for a bit, he told her about a time he decided to mess with me because I was "quiet and liked to draw." Apparently I broke his nose and he decided it might not be a good idea to mess with me any longer. I had completely forgotten about that incident until she mentioned it to me. I guess I made an impression on him.

 

[Cainkane1]

Growing up in a dirt poor family that constantly moved from town to town, I was always targeted by bullies looking to beat up the poor new kid. I imagine I was quite the sight whenever I showed up for my first day of school. Being from a poor white trash family, my clothes were always in terrible shape and about ten years out of date. What made it worse was that I was also quiet and enjoyed making music and drawing. Of course, the one good thing about being poor is you learn to fight early on which meant bullies were the ones that usually ended up beaten and bloodied after confronting me.

I had one former bully approach my sister the other day and asked her how I was doing. After conversing with him for a bit, he told her about a time he decided to mess with me because I was "quiet and liked to draw." Apparently I broke his nose and he decided it might not be a good idea to mess with me any longer. I had completely forgotten about that incident until she mentioned it to me. I guess I made an impression on him.

Hopefully your no longer poor. I'm glad you were able to defend yourself.

 

[ToddH]

Hopefully your no longer poor. I'm glad you were able to defend yourself.

I actually ended up being the first person in my family to graduate high school and go on to college. I now make a nice living teaching at a local college and wouldn't trade my rough childhood for anything. I believe it made me a stronger person and taught me that with hard work you can accomplish anything.

 

[ToddH]

Stupid double post!

 

[Dogdoctor]

When I was in high school there was one guy who persistently attempted to bully me however it was ineffective since he was slow moving and his punches didn't hurt. At that point I was in a pacifism stage in my life and would just let him punch me then comment on how weak his punches were. He went on to become a real tough guy who could punch hard but alcoholism did him in. He was involved in a series of serious car accidents and suffered liver damage from drinking and pain killers he was taking due to numerous injuries. When I last saw him we made amends and became friends again as we once were as little kids. He ended up dying most likely related to drinking.