Kindergarten Bullies: Does it Start with The Parents?

So I was just reading this article in the Sunday NY Times this morning, by Pamela Paul, about the phenomenon of bullying drifting down into younger and younger ages. Like kindergarten. Of course, bullying is a huge topic right now, given the rise in attention paid to the tragic stories of bullying leading to suicide in young teens, even though most recent stories are about older kids and homosexuality.

But this issue of the mean streak in kids as young as five? Unfortunately this is not a surprise to me. Mean girls (and boys) were around when I was a kid, and I saw it in action when my older son started kindergarten. My boy, now a third grader, has the double whammy of being on the younger side (this year, he is, to his chagrin, the youngest in his class; he’ll be turning 8 next month, mere weeks before the cut-off date and the turning-9 of some of his classmates), and being — I’ve always been upfront about this — a geek. Don’t get me wrong; I love that my son is geeky. He’s awkward, he’s unathletic (though he’s game to try things), he’s goofy. We were all kids once; I’m sure we all knew kids like Daniel. The kind of kid who only has a handful, even fewer, of friends; the kind of kid adults adore because he’s sweet and polite; the kind of kid girls and younger children feel comfortable around because it would never, in a million years, occur to him to tease anyone. He’s not rough, he’s not tough, he doesn’t run fast, and if he ever tries to insult anyone (his brother, us) he can’t even think of what to say. Mean does not roll off his tongue.

It doesn’t roll off his back, either, and any teasing he’s encountered serves the purpose of confusing as much as hurting him.

Back when Daniel was in kindergarten, I would come to the class about once a month to help out, which usually involved working with two or three kids at a time finish an art project, stuff like like gluing beaks and googly-eyes on a duck. When you sit with two or three 5- or 6-year-olds, you see and hear things. Here’s what I saw: One girl, a full head taller than anyone else in the class, telling a much smaller red-haired girl, “I thought at first you were going to be our friend, but I guess you’re not.” (And in case you’re totally siding with our little redhead, she let go a few zingers of her own, when she wasn’t running around the class like a banshee.)

Then there were two other girls who, upon realizing I was Daniel’s mom, said “Daniel is the best boy. Robbie’s the worst boy, but Daniel’s the best.” They didn’t have to tell me why. I’m sure it was because he was quiet, didn’t go to the kitchen play area and mess up their tablesettings during free play, and did what they said (if they said anything to him at all) on the playground.

But back to this article in the Times. It began with the expected anecdote about a kindergarten girl taunted for wearing “funky” clothes, and the “wrong” shoes (from Payless!), the whole bullying campaign orchestrated by one alpha girl.

But this piece was not just about the mean girls (and boys); it was about their parents. What role, the writer wondered, did they play? A big one, it would seem. After wondering what the culture has to do with the trending-down of meanness to the youngest kids (plenty; just watch TV shows aimed at kids — meanness is the new way to relate, and sarcastic comebacks are not just for grownup sitcoms anymore), the focus of the article turns to the trend toward tacit (or not so tacit) parental approval of what used to be called impolite behavior:

While peer influence is no doubt a factor, veteran teachers and school counselors say parents are often complicit. “Parents think it’s really cute when their 2- and 3-year-olds are doing ‘Single Ladies’ or singing the Alicia Keys/Jay-Z song,” Ms. Wiseman said. “But it’s not so funny at age 8, when they’re singing along to Lady Gaga and demanding a cellphone.”

A kindergarten teacher at one of New York City’s top private all-girls schools observed, “The mean girls are often from mean moms.” She was thrown back by the “venom” among 5-year-olds. They’ll say, “You only read ‘Biscuit,’ and we’re all reading chapter books.” Or, “Why don’t you brush your hair? You don’t look nice today.” And they’re not afraid of getting into trouble with a teacher. “Perhaps they can act that way at home without repercussions,” she said. “It’s untypical of this age group because they’re usually adult-pleasers.”

In certain cases, the parents themselves seem to be pleased. When her daughter Julia was in first grade last year, said Lea Pfau, a mother of two in Sherman Oaks, Calif., one girl threatened that, unless Julia did as she ordered, “I’m going to tell my mommy, and she’ll set up a meeting with your mommy, and you’ll get in trouble.” The girl then orchestrated a series of exclusive clubs in which girls could be kicked out for various infractions. “I was surprised by the fierceness,” Ms. Pfau said. “But I was more surprised at the other parents. Rather than nip it in the bud, they encouraged it.”

At first I was surprised to read this, but then it sunk in. I love that my son is a bit geeky, but other parents might not be so pleased with a child like mine, would be pushing him to like tougher things, to run faster and act more … aware. Sharper. Meaner. There’s a hardness afoot today that depresses me and makes me scared for kids with a softer side. Last year, my son dealt with a boy on his bus and in his class who said mean things to him. When he finally told me (“He said ‘I’m going to kill you,’ but he was just kidding, right Mom?”), and the boys were sent to meet with the assistant principal and the bus driver was told to keep them apart, I was heartsick.

Months later, when I asked Daniel how things were with this boy, he said, “oh, we’re friends now,” which I let him believe was true. Then I finally saw this boy, put a face to a name, along with his mother. And all I could think, of both of them, was “hard.” This boy was good-looking, in that way where you can tell exactly what kind of teenager he’ll be. He had cool-looking sneakers and a world-weary attitude. So did his mom. I wondered what she thought when she got the call from our sons’ teacher about the things he’s said to Daniel.

I can only imagine. And I can only hope that my boy remains the best boy, even if he’s buffeted by bullies from time to time, who tell him his hair is funny, or that he doesn’t run fast enough (both of which he’s heard).

Sure, kids can be mean; they always have been. But surely the response isn’t to foster a meanness in our kids, too — to harden their edges.

What do you think?