Bullying - Is it Just Talk?

Reclining in the dentist chair, my mind raced from one thought to the next at a speed so great that NASA would want to perform extensive research on my brain. I never experienced dental work before, not even a cavity filling; but unfortunately for me, a miscalculation on my part was rewarded with a former friend's elbow, knocking my top left incisor back into my mouth, causing the need for (what I was told,) a very "complicated" root-canal. I did not then and still do not think that simple, or even complicated dental work should be an event that makes a lasting impression on how a person lives his or her life. However, the experience of being stuck somewhere with nothing to entertain me, aside from my own thoughts, I found myself seriously contemplating ideas that I don't recall ever entering my mind before.

I never considered myself an overly rude or hurtful person. To me, the occasional put down acted as a part of growing up that everyone learned to deal with. I knew that people I believed to be "above" me put me down. And in turn, I put people down who I wrongly believed ranked "below" me. I knew that sometimes the comments that people said bothered me terribly, but I do not know if I did not realize or at the time just did not care that what I said to other people caused the same negative feelings. I thought of it as the common social chain: big fish eats little fish; little fish eats smaller fish. Looking back now, I think many people probably thought the same way and did not comprehend the damage that they might be causing someone.

I understand that some times verbal exchanges need to occur. It is perfectly normal for insults to fly between friends. Because friends generally know which buttons not to push and stay clear of comments that they feel would bother someone close to them. However, people can be vicious. Harmful words are defended as being "Just talk," or "A part of growing up." As I said before, I also once believed that, but I see now that playing with someone' s emotions can be far more painful than a punch (or even an elbow) in the mouth.

I went through these problems in my head for what seemed like an eternity when my train of thoughts was suddenly interrupted by a stream of burning, foul-tasting chemical that shot down my throat. Apparently the specialist (and I use that word with most reluctance) accidentally, of course, spilled some of the chemical used for cleaning the dead root from my now opened tooth into my open mouth, leaving a sickening sour taste in my mouth for the remainder of my visit. After that interruption, my thoughts switched to another subject that left a sour taste in my mouth: the idea of a social chain existing at all. The idea that someone is above or below someone else is complete excrement. Who possesses the right to say that the tall, strong person is better than the short, skinny person he is putting down. Holding someone on high because he or she can throw a ball is the purest form of idiocy. I have only been on this earth eighteen years, but I have been around long enough to see courage overcome physical prowess. I witnessed the tall, handsome hero run from a danger that the one who is considered weak faced toe-to-toe.

Hate is the father of evil, but some people argue with me saying that schoolyard bullying should be in the same class as racism. I support my statement by pointing out that both offences take place due to a superficial difference found in the victim. Almost every person becomes affected by prejudice of some sort in his lifetime; many will take on a "poor me attitude" while at the same time they are making the same comments and judgments about someone else. This mental state of hating what one considers to be different is not a new practice; it existed before history could ever be recorded and manifested as a continuous black-eye on the existence of the human race for as long as we have been around.

At that point the dentist removed the menacing metal gadgets from my mouth and asked his aid for some type of packing material of which I cannot remember the name. I took that brief opportunity to inspect his work by slid my tongue across my upper teeth. I could feel the small, round hole that still existed in the middle of my tooth. "Great," I thought, "Still not done.

The dentist began to pack my tooth with the material I mentioned earlier. I could not be sure if this was part of the procedure, or if he was doing this out of some sick desire to make me uncomfortable. I say "uncomfortable" for the lack of a better word to use. The feeling differed from pain; it was something worse. With every movement of his arm my head was jerked back and forth violently. In an attempt to take my mind off my current discomfort, I started to think about choices I wanted to make differently if I saw a chance to escape from his office. I knew that a person cannot change one hundred percent in the amount of time it takes to receive a root canal, but I also know that my way of thinking was continually changing for the duration of the operation. I made up my mind to try and form an opinion about people not based on what I see, but what I take in from my experiences with them. I think I will be a better person for this decision.

Tony, 18
El Dorado, Kansas

Reprinted from Positive Teens Magazine Volume 5 Issue 6, Nov/Dec 2003

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