bullying

As an 18-year veteran of the school board, the last few months have been the most challenging I’ve ever witnessed. I experienced both student walkouts for school safety and teacher walkouts for dismal state support for its public schools. I grew up in an era of protest–the Kent State shootings and Viet Nam War sit-ins. I watched on TV the riots in Watts. I’m not Pollyanna; I knew the world wasn’t perfect. I was cognizant of war, crime, and cruelty against others.

I watched in horror the TV coverage of the Twin Towers and the shooting of Gabby Giffords in a Tucson parking lot. I wept over the massacre at Sandy Hook Elementary School. Afterward, our school district remodeled all of our forty-four schools. Now, when I drive by each of them, the buildings are fortresses. (If Phoenix water wasn’t so pricey, moats would have been added). Our front office entries are bullet-proof glass, and like the movie theater, I speak into a microphone and slide my ID through the little drawer for the secretary to peruse before I’m admitted. I’ve undergone background checks and carry a fingerprint card.

Yet, in spite of all these school safety measures, school shootings continue. Believe me, I’ve bent my head in prayer since Sandy Hook–my only weapon. Thoughts and prayers are of NO use to dead children and school staff members; they’ve already met Jesus.

I am paranoid of what’s to become of us. We live in an America rife with bullying, hate, anger, and powerful lobbies which control our legislators. Each week we lose more of our most precious asset–our youth to senseless violence. Our children are counting on us to resolve this madness.

th-1 A few weeks ago, I shared the story of Bob, my current cabana boy. Bob and his burly dog, Max moved into my guest house over a year ago. For a year, Max only ventured outside when my dogs were in the house. If they happened to see him, they’d chase him back through his doggy door. They’d gnash their teeth if they spied him through the sliding glass door. I would go and visit Max; I felt sorry for him, for his dad was gone much of the time. He spent endless hours alone–unhealthy for a pack animal. Dogs want to belong.

Like some of our children, Max was a victim of bullies. He was lonely and afraid. Even though, I made numerous attempts to introduce him to the group, they refused…unless his dad was present. Surprisingly, two weeks ago, Max wandered up on my patio and came through my doggy door. Given the mid-afternoon, Phoenix heat, my five were all asleep in various locales. No one took notice. And on that very afternoon, Max moved in. He quickly adapted to our routine. He knows his dinner is served in the laundry room, as each dog has an assigned space, i.e. office, powder room, playroom, kitchen. (Yes, with six dogs, I need separation at meal time.)

Further, like the rest of the pack, he understands I am the Alpha. It is my way! (Wish my own children understood I run the pack!). Curiously, though, Max quickly assumed another role–chief body guard of Sue. I can not walk from room to room without him beside me. He follows me around the pool as I brush grit from the walls. When repairmen come, I must banish him back to his own abode, as the hair raises down his spine and his teeth are in full display. No doubt, he is my protector!

Certainly, I was hesitant to bond with Max; he is Bob’s dog. Yet, most of us want a haven to belong. We don’t like being made fun of or ostracized. Each of us has something to share; each of us wants to further the greater good. So for the most part, the rest of the pack is relieved to not be #1 in guard duty of the old witch. All is well.

I shall never understand why Max ventured into my house two weeks ago. Perhaps his loneliness fueled his instinct to just belong. Hmm. Wonder if there’s a lesson here?

Dr. Suze Espouses

I’m Paranoid

A Timely Tale of Bullies