When I was four years old, I went to preschool at the local
JCC. I wasn’t there all that long, it was my third preschool. I still remember the classroom, could still
point out where the blocks section was vs. the coloring area, and I remember
that my favorite thing was to play in the little sandbox. I don’t remember a whole lot that happened
the few months I was there, or any of the teachers, but I do remember Drew.
Drew was my first bully.
As far as bullies go, she wasn’t
exactly a subtle master of the craft. Later in life, I would encounter far worse. But at the time, it felt pretty bad. If
I drew a picture, she told me it was ugly.
If I was building with the blocks, she pushed them over. If I was wearing clothing, (which thanks to
my mother, was every day), she told me it looked terrible. If I said something, she told me it was
stupid. She was relentless. Every day, all day, a constant barrage of
negativity and occasional mild physical violence. Nothing to attract the attention of the
teachers, but a quick shove, stepped on fingers, a poke in the gut. But the
absolute worst thing she did to me was target my only friend, Emily, and
somehow convince her to act as a kind of tiny flunky, witnessing and
participating in my slow torture while simultaneously leaving me bereft of allies.
For whatever demented reason which I’m sure ought to have
landed me in therapy, the nastier Drew got, the nicer I got to Drew. I told her she drew amazingly beautiful
pictures, that her clothes were great, that anything she said was the most
intelligent thing I’d ever heard, and continually asked her if she wanted to
build blocks with me, play a game, come over to my house. I wanted desperately for her to be my
friend. She was the first person I ever
encountered who didn’t like me, and it just made no sense. I hadn’t DONE anything. I had to prove to her that it was all a big
misunderstanding, that I was loveable and if she would only just see, we could
be great friends.
I told my parents about the abuse. My mother wanted to call my teachers, my
father told me to kick Drew in the stomach.
My mother decided this was a much better approach and agreed with this
new proposed strategy. I, however,
refused. Clearly deep down Drew was only
reacting to her own deep rooted insecurities.
Maybe she had a sad home life.
Probably she had low self esteem.
All she really wanted was to be loved. I had to show her I loved her!
I gave her my favorite bracelet, a stretchy plastic rainbow
beaded bracelet my grandmother had gotten me while spending Mardi Gras in New
Orleans. Let’s not stop to think about
my grandmother getting an entire bathtub’s worth of beads thrown at her in New
Orleans, and concentrate on the fact that I still remember exactly what this
beloved bracelet looked like. Drew told
me it was ugly, but she kept it anyway and continued the abuse for the next few
weeks.
One morning though, Emily helped Drew corner me in a part of
the classroom shielded from the teachers by the building blocks and Lego table,
and Drew stamped down on my foot hard enough to hurt and keep me in place.
I said, “Drew, will you please get off my foot?”
Going through this memory is kind of making me want to punch
myself in the face. Who SAYS that in this
situation?
“No,” said Drew.
I said, “Please?”
She said, “No.”
So I used my other foot to kick her as hard as I could in
the stomach.
She doubled over even though I couldn’t possibly have hurt
her that badly. Anyone who knows me at
29 knows I still couldn’t hurt a four year old girl with all my strength, so
just imagine me as a four year old girl myself.
She threw a FIT. Screaming,
crying, accusing, rolling on the floor, teachers rushed over to cuddle her, and
over the general ruckus I was shouting, “I ASKED HER PLEASE. I SAID PLEASE. “
Not a single teacher ever so much as gave me a stern talking
to. This seems odd looking back, but I
can only imagine that they all probably hated Drew too. Teachers aren’t stupid. I’m sure they sensed an evil in her.
She never bothered me again, not once.
I learned a valuable lesson about life, love, the universe,
and humanity that can never be unlearned.
Some people are just assholes who need a good kick in the
stomach.
