One of my best friends, Paul Dini, wrote a piece on his blog about dealing with bullies.
I never had it quite as bad as he did in this capacity, though I probably should have. I skipped a couple of grades so for much of my schooling, I was younger than the kids around me, uninformed about certain social conventions and — worse! — pegged by some as Class Brain. If you have a youngster and you want to do everything to promote an unhappy childhood for him, just encourage him to be known as Class Brain.
Everything Paul writes is, I'm certain, valid. I would just append that I found it was sometimes possible to at least outwit the bullies and usually to out-mature them. My role model was more often Bugs Bunny than Popeye and I often found myself able to say or do something funny or clever and to triumph that way. The following is an absolutely-true story.
Around fifth grade, I had a problem with a kid in my class named Lewis — spelled like that but pronounced (he insisted) "Louie." I didn't understand at the time why he was always picking on me and only later came to the theory that it had something to do with a classmate named Elizabeth. He liked her. She thought I was so cute with my cartoons and funny remarks. His anger towards me was rooted somewhere in that, I'm sure.
He was always threatening me with physical violence and calling me names. One afternoon at lunch, he unleashed an especially loud tirade on the subject and I found myself facing off with him in the center of a crowd. Every kid on the playground it seemed suddenly gathered to see if he was going to slug me or I was going to slug him. Either option struck me as a losing proposition for me.
So he was calling me names and talking about extracting my newly-grown teeth. I was looking around at all my classmates and some pupils from other classes. Not a teacher in sight. Everyone's waiting for me to say something back or take a swing. And my brain, oddly enough, summoned up an Abbott and Costello movie.
I'm not sure which one. They did this line in several. Costello said to some antagonist, "What makes a balloon go up?" The other guy said, "Hot air." Costello said, "What's holding you down?" I took a gamble that Lewis wouldn't answer "Helium" and I asked him — loudly so all could hear — "What makes a balloon go up?" I have never been as happy as I was when he responded with a puzzled look, "Hot air."
I delivered the zinger. All the kids around howled with laughter…and that was the end of my problem with Lewis.
Matter of fact, nobody messed with me for a long time after that and the exchange was quoted all over Westwood Elementary. A few teachers even complimented me on it. As Karma would have it, Lewis later turned out to be an okay guy and we became semi-friendly. I don't think that would have happened if I'd balled up my fist that afternoon and tried to shove it into his face.
That kind of thing doesn't work all the time, of course. Sometimes, it makes them madder. Sometimes, they say "Helium" or don't otherwise follow the script in your head. But it worked that time and others, including times I could employ some dialogue or at least the cool, cocky attitude of my occasional role model, Bugs Bunny. I was unlikely to ever be able to beat someone when it came to physical brawling but I could sometimes outclever them. Sometimes.
And in a way, I also did a lot of what Paul did, which was to steer my life away from where I was unhappy and chart a path towards where I felt I belonged. A good way to get bullied is to be where you don't belong and one reason kids get bullied in school is that they aren't in control of where they are. Also, some of them haven't seen nearly enough cartoons and Abbott & Costello movies.