A Thin Volume

I'm inspired to write this following a childhood reminiscence from Lonemum.

I stood out at my second primary school because of my very different accent, and was teased a lot because of it. Today it would probably be called bullying; its what kids and a lot of adults do: find someone who is different and attack them because of that difference, ideally in the company of your "gang". Their weakness makes you feel stronger, their difference reinforces the bonds of the bully-group and helps them minimise their own inadequacies - fertile ground for insecure children.

I guess I was in one of the lower-middle classes in the school, aged about 7 at the time. My misery was slightly lessened because I wasn't the only one who was being bullied. We had a spastic child in the school, he was in the senior class, tall and gangly, dribbling a lot I think and not really able to express himself in a manner that was easily understood. For some people he represented a great target.

One break time I was relieved that I wasn't the object of the bullying, this other poor kid was getting it instead - he had his back to the wall and was surrounded by chanting taunting kids, including me (I don't think I was taunting, I hope I wasn't, I was merely in the body of the crowd). And then I had a moment's clarity and fully realised just how wrong this was. And once that thought had dawned with no hesitation I went and stood in front of the terrified kid and shouted back at the crowd, putting my fists up to defend him. They didn't need much to deter them, individuals within a mob know it is wrong, they just need to have their consciences pricked a little bit.

I'm still proud of that 7 year old.