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Getting Bullied in Sixth Grade

Getting Bullied in Sixth Grade

Jun 30, 2023

"How come you’re so ugly? I mean, just look at all those zits! Don’t you ever wash your face?” my classmate jeered to me in front of the whole class.

The rest of the class jumped in with the taunting. I tried my best to ignore them by pretending I was reading a book.

Another kid who sat behind me shouted, “Yeah, you should go back to your own country.”

I snapped at him, “I am in my own country to dipshit. I was born here in Chicago.”

He didn’t stop. “Ha, Ha. Go back to Canada,” as he and the rest of the class continued with the taunts. Sister Pauline stepped out for a moment, so I had to bear the relentless torment. Such was my new life in Chicago. A sixth grader in a Catholic school who just moved from Canada. And, puberty decided to visit me too. Yay.

My mother tried to enroll me in the public school in our neighborhood, but the school administrators felt I was too advanced for the school. They wanted to bus me to the south side of Chicago to a Magnet school. My mother would have none of it. So, here I was stuck in a private school. And even here, I tested for eighth-grade level. They wanted to bump me from sixth to eighth grade. But nope, Mother wanted to keep me tortured.

The students did not like me in the least. I was awkward and not fitting in at all. Most of them were migrants kids from Poland. A few of them were German and a couple of Italian kids in my class. They hated me because I was the new kid and my education exceeded them. Not my fault the education system sucked in the United States.

The worst kid in my class was the girl who sat right behind me. Not only did she call me names nonstop, but she would also beat me on my back and push her desk into my back. Of course, the nun never saw any of it. I was too afraid to say anything, so I took the beatings and taunting daily.

One day she was handing out birthday invitations. Everyone got one except me. She sneered at me, “You didn’t think I would invite you ugly?” She sat down laughing. She then proceeded to jam her desk into my back. I wanted to cry but held it in.

One afternoon, I stayed after school, as I did a few days out of the week to help clean up. Sister Pauline took a liking to me but not after hitting me on several occasions with her yardstick. I was a star pupil who got good grades and never gave her problems.

The group of us that were helping out each had our chores to do. The bully girl was there too, serving detention. I was in the lab next door emptying a bucket of water. The other girls were finishing the dusting. After I put the bucket away, I went and sat at my desk to get my homework to put in my bookbag. Suddenly, the mean girl gathered up all her strength and smashed me into the desk in front of me. She began to laugh hysterically. The other girls said nothing.

Sister Pauline was of course nowhere to witness my assault. The mean girl continued laughing and got up and went to the lab.

I moved the desk back in place. I stood there and something in me snapped. My nostrils were snorting and my breathing became rapid. I whirled around and threw the mean girl’s desk to the floor. All her stuff flew out. The mean girl came back into the room. She and the other girls stood there with their mouths wide open. I clenched my teeth and snorted at the mean girl, “Don’t ever touch me again.”

She sheepishly went around me, gathered her stuff, and put it back on her desk before Sister Pauline got back. I kept glaring at her and she dared not to look at me. From that moment on, she kept herself and her desk as far away from me as possible.

In fact, after that day, most of the taunts became minimal. My guess is she told her buddies how crazy I was and not to mess with me. Amazing what happens when you stand up to a bully.

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