“Help!” I cried. Getting tortured with one’s fist. A short, blonde hair, green eyed, 13 year old boy. Only in the 8th grade would i think about being bullied. The whole 8th grade were the seniors of middle school, the last year until we go to the high school. I told myself that I had to watch out for certain people or group of people. I met a kinda cool guy named Mack, he soon would become my best friend. The day was December 18, 2014. It was a very bright 98 degree day. I had gotten bullied that morning, but didn’t think nothing about it. Then, it carried over to the playground. I had ran outside like everyone else. Me not thinking about this morning went over to talk to my bully. “Hey” I said, “Hey” this deep voice said. The voice was so deep, it was like I was talking to a grown man. I started to tremble. As I slowly walked backwards he came forward. …show more content…
Him and all of his mean, hurtful, and his heartless friends. They all were grinning this awful grin as they came towards me. I was panicking, getting short of breath because I was so scared. They started to smack me around. Then, they would hit me harder and harder. They would hit me so hard that I could barely cry out for help. It’s like I was screaming but, no one could hear me. As soon as they were done they all took a turn spitting on me. My friend finally came to help me, after all the screaming. The boys had hit me so hard that i could barely stand up. My friend finally got to me got me up and took one good look at me. “Are you ok?” He finally said. As he looked at me he made this awful face like it was all his fault that I got beat up. I had a huge black eye, bloody lip, and my face was covered in blood. My shirt was stained in blood. My face hurt me so bad, i could just get the words out to my friend, “I’m ok.” The very next day my bully was $2 short at lunch. So i gave him the money and he just beat me up again on the
The reading “The Terror” by Junot Diaz is a story I can relate to because of the emotional and physical bullying I experienced in high school which I was able to curb after informing my parents who took immediate actions to put a stop to it. Junot Diaz was narrating his experiences with fear after getting beat-up as an adolescent.
Andrea Gibson’s’ poem ‘Letter to the Playground Bully’ is an unforgettable poem about bullying. She cleverly crafts a poem from the perspective of an 8 and a half year old girl who is trying to confront the playground bully through a letter. The poem’s sole purpose is to expose the hardships and reality for victims of bullying. She achieves this by making the speaker a younger version of herself. She wrote this poem in order to perform in front of high school and elementary school students to try and stop bullying. Gibson explores unfamiliar territory related to bullying in a straightforward, sweet, yet different approach.
Shane Koyczan is a spoken word artist that, like the rest of us, has seen the effects of bullying in our own lives or that of another. Shane has been able to articulate through his poem what the life of someone being bullied may appear to be and the havoc that is caused by that cruelty. Shane is credible in the field do to personal experience and simply being a kid at one time. He says “my experiences with violence in schools still echo throughout my life…” showing that he has witnessed and felt the pain that bullying can bring onto someone.
At the age of eight I was bullied not only by my classmates but people of both genders whom some I considered to be my friends. It was not only my weight. I had short hair and crooked teeth. I thought that I was normal. I would be left out of games; I was not allowed to be friends with certain people of both sexes. When I look back it
The crisis of bullying has grown dramatically in the past years. Bullying surrounds everyone, from daily harassing insults that are thrown around in the hallways, to bruising from shoves or punches, and even to lethal bullets. Never before have there been large amounts of horrendous cases of bullying with fatal results – the growing prevalence i...
Have you or someone you know been bullied? Your answer is probably yes. So was Jodee Blanco, the author of Please Stop Laughing At Me… One Woman’s Emotional Story. Starting in 5th grade up until high school graduation, she was tormented by her classmates, getting little or no help from authority. Even her parents began to believe it was her fault. She understands what it feels like to be bullied and wrote the book as something other victims can relate to. She also wrote it to show people how bad bullying really is and get them to understand that it shouldn’t be dismissed as a normal part of growing up and allowed to happen. Something should be done to prevent kids from going through this. That is her main point in this book. The main idea of this book is Ms. Blanco sharing her experiences experiences of being bullied through much of her adolescent life to show people the horrors of bullying and that it shouldn't be allowed to continue.
He started to make fun of me, everyone on the bus laughed as if what he was doing was funny. As if he was doing the right thing. It got worse, he forced himself by me and took my stuffing and rammed it onto my lap leaving it in a horrid condition. So many dents; my stuffing went from a neat aluminum pan to a monstrosity that looked like it belonged in the trash. Tears began to well in my eyes and I had that choking feeling in my throat. I wanted to cry. All the laughter and whispers “What school does she go to?” or “This is funny.” made me feel humiliated, stupid, and alone. When the bus finally stopped at 50th and Parkside, I waited for all the cackling students to exit the bus and then followed with my dented aluminum pan of stuffing and my head held low, suppressing the
she always used to wish for a way to escape her life. She saw memories
It was the worst it had ever been in an extremely long time. She told me she did not care if I leave, I should run away and in 24 hours she will just file a missing person's report. She told me that I am nothing and I will never be anything along with some other non-school-appropriate words. She then left to pick my brother up. I was shocked hurt and livid. I planned to kill myself. I was frustrated with the situation, but before I could do it I must take a shower. So I took a shower then looked at myself for what felt like an eternity in the mirror. I walked over and sat on the bed took a razor I got out of a sharpener and began to cut with a purpose on the vein right under my wrist. The cuts were deep but not deep enough and I felt the vein move under my skin desperately trying to escape my vicious assault. When I do puncture it it puffs up which is common. I try and I try and I damn myself because the razor is not big enough. I began to lash out at myself for not buying new razors but why would I? I was done cutting and playing this suicide game. Finally, I am just so tired, I lay down and sleep. The next day I woke up and went to school speaking to no one about the incident, because I knew it would be a pointless endeavor. I would be thrown away checked off of a list like others before
For the most part, as a child I would say I was fairly friendly towards other children, however everyone has their fault and my biggest one has always been bullying. As many children are, I was bullied in Kindergarten leaving my self esteem at an all time low. After building myself back up by the time second grade rolled around I wasn’t going to take anymore bullying so I became the bully. I know that none of the kids would stop me from bullying because no one had the courage to. Considering all the options Julia, a girl who had transferred to my school two weeks into the school year, seem like the best candidate. The bullying started out slowly, at first it was just talking behind her back about how ‘stupid’ and ‘weird’ she was. From there it escalated quickly, my friends and I began to exclude her from everything and call her names to the point that Julia looked like she wanted to cry. One day Julia threatened to tell the teacher and being in second grade we knew that having the teacher find out what we had been doing would be the ultimate punishment. Aware of this my friend pinned Julia’s arms against the back of the climbing wall, where no teachers ever checked, and told her that if she did we would make her life even more miserable. I knew just being a bystander in this situation wasn’t really the right thing to do, but I just didn’t have the confidence to stand up, especially since I was the one who had initiated the bullying. Going home that night, I reflected on the events and I could see that we had taken things too far. I felt defeated, even though I hadn’t been the one being bullied, I was the one that was making someone feel how I previously felt. The next day I know what I had to do. I told my friends that we shouldn't bully Julia because it's not the right thing to do. Of course they didn’t agree with me, so I decided to take matters into my
Let me go back Yane and I had been friends when we were in Kindergarten, first, second, and third grade, but he failed the state test so he was left back and thus he and I drifted apart over the years. So when he forced his way into my space I was reluctant to even talk to him considering what a nice, toasty, brilliant day it was but he then went and said “You are the scum of the earth thinking that you can do whatever you want and nothing will happen to you because your Grandmother is the principle. I bet that she put you through school using her influence to change your grades,” stop. “ You are probably so unintelligent you don’t even understand what I’m sa-” I punched him and I did not stop. Then, I forgot where I was
It only takes one bad experience to change your opinion on something. Imagine if you went through this same bad experience for months, or better yet years. Your whole personality, how you view yourself, and others changes drastically. This is what it feels like to be bullied. Bullying is a serious issue in America, especially among children and young adults. From kindergarten all the way up until my sophomore year of high school, I was a victim of bullying. Being bullied changed how I viewed myself and others, what my values and morals were, and it shaped me into the person I am today.
It's a Sunday morning and the sky is gray with clouds, so I start to think that it’s going to be a little cold today. Getting out of my bed, I do my usual morning routine: make the bed, change my clothes for work, brush my teeth, and eat breakfast. While I'm eating breakfast, I realize that my family is gone, but I quickly remember that they went to church, which explains why it was so quiet in the house. Usually, my kids would come running to me still in their pajamas telling me good morning while my wife is in the kitchen making something. After having breakfast and reading the newspaper, I prepare to leave for work. I usually leave at around 7:00, but on weekends, I leave at around 8:00.
Beginning of 6th grade was when my torture started. I would walk down the hallway with my friends when suddenly I would hear a group of people whispering my name and laughing. However, I was lucky to not get bullied physically, but being verbally bullied had the same effect on me, there was not a day where I would not hear people talking about me, making fun of how I would dress, and inventing things that were not true. There were times when I
So in second/third grade Mariah and I had boy troubles. The was this older boy, a fourth-grader, that was out friend…and we both liked him. Mariah and him had past history and I had a big crush. I would listen to Hannah Montana and think about him. Me and him never officially dated, but we were close to it. New twins moved into Mariah’s neighborhood, she became friends with them and so did my almost boyfriend. It felt like my world was collapsing, the twins didn’t like me! That meant Mariah didn’t like me. I had other friends but they weren’t Mariah. Anytime I would try to hang out with her the twins would be mean to me until I decided to go home. Mariah never really saw the twins be mean to me, she just thought I didn’t like them because I was jealous. I only didn’t like them because they were evil…and maybe I was a slight bit jealous. One of the twins even stole my almost boyfriend. I couldn’t let this happen anymore so I took action. I confronted the twins and it was a slap in the face. I literally got slapped in the face! I was still sensitive at that time so I ran home and cried. I later told my mother and she said those famous three words: suck it up. Back then I didn’t have a good thought process on how to solve my problems to I chose arson. I went to their clubhouse with gas and a lighter and burned up their mini Christmas tree. I wasn’t the most controlled eight-year-old. Eventually, the twins moved away, or