My kids frequently ask about my childhood, and I relish sharing stories from my younger days. Usually, these anecdotes evoke laughter or surprise, often involving my dad getting kicked out of my neighborhood soccer games. But last week, while driving, I decided to share a different kind of story just as the school year was about to commence. It was a story about their Uncle Mike.
My brother Mike is 18 months older than me, but after being held back in school, we always shared the same grade, like two peas in a pod. Even though we attended different schools at times, we spent many years together in the same classes.
Mike is one of the kindest souls you could ever hope to meet, and my children absolutely adore him. He’s like a gentle giant, always friendly and welcoming to everyone. However, Mike also has a disability, and as a child with special needs, he faced ridicule from a small group of particularly cruel classmates.
Most people treated Mike with kindness. They greeted him warmly when he said hello and offered him high-fives on request. But for those few kids, he became a target for their insecurities and bitterness.
I can’t count the times I’d turn down a hallway only to find Mike breakdancing while onlookers laughed, unaware that he was blissfully oblivious to the distinction between being laughed with and laughed at. I often found myself stepping in to stop the harassment.
Many lunch periods would see Mike performing karate atop a lunch table, the same scenario playing out. His lunch money was frequently stolen, and kids would force him to repeat silly phrases for cheap laughs. On occasion, a pencil would be thrown at his head just to see his reaction.
But the story I shared during our car ride was this one: One morning, some kids told Mike to take off his shoes and then tried to flush them down the toilet. They didn’t go down; instead, they just spun around, but that didn’t stop them from trying. Mike spent the rest of the day in his socks. When I heard about it, I rushed into the girls’ bathroom, knelt in a stall, and sobbed until I could hardly breathe. I was heartbroken. I simply couldn’t fathom how anyone could be that cruel to someone so vulnerable.
I recounted how Dad took time off work to bring Mike new shoes later that day, and how my mom and I cried together that evening. My kids were puzzled as to why anyone would act so mean. I told them I still couldn’t comprehend it, and neither could Uncle Mike.
Then, I imparted this lesson: Always treat everyone with kindness, both at school and beyond. Avoid hurting anyone, because when you do, you also harm the people who love them.
I encouraged them to go beyond mere niceness — to be the children who stand up for others. There were a few kids back then who would intervene during the bullying before I could. They looked out for Mike, reassuring him that he could count on them if he ever needed help. They weren’t my friends, but their actions meant the world to me.
As we drove, I realized that while I had been busy organizing back-to-school schedules, clothes, and sports car pools, I hadn’t emphasized the most crucial lesson of all: the importance of treating others with kindness. Yes, it’s a lesson for every day, but with the rise of bullying stories, perhaps it needs to be more directly addressed.
I understand my kids won’t always get it right. They may occasionally leave someone out or say something hurtful. However, I’ve made it clear that bullying, teasing, or taunting is unacceptable and would be the most disappointing thing they could do.
As our children head back to school, let’s remind them to be kind and support those who may need a helping hand. And I assure you, somewhere out there, someone’s sibling will be eternally grateful.
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In conclusion, the lessons we teach our children about kindness and standing up for others can have lasting effects, shaping their character and the way they interact with the world.