Sticks and Stones

Words swirl in my brain. They dance in rhythm while I determine my message. Whether oral or written, they twist and turn providing me with the ability to communicate a bit of my being to others. Sometimes it is a glimpse of my soul or a point of irritation - I love it when it is a fracture of my funny bone.

No matter what, words have always been a treasure. Whisking me to China in "The Story of Ping" or enabling me to solve a mystery in the land of Nancy Drew. Like most other children, words also provided me my first taunts, my first heartaches and realization that mean people suck. Perhaps because these linear shapings were always repositioning within my cerebral cortex, the stings seemed to dwell in my heart longer than others. My friends and brothers would shake off the ill-designed comments more easily than me - at least they seemed to handle the stupidity of others with their shields abreast and their swords drawn.

Eventually my grandmother's pithy one-liner's - "Snap out of it, Bub" (really, she said Bub) and "So, what did you do to make it better?" taught me to ride the wave and return to the water. But, there continued to be moments when I believed Jaws was treading in the shallows waiting to take me under. I think we have all experienced the majesty of words - both the evil and the light.

That is why I am stunned with the happenings of South Hadley High School. Perhaps Mean Girls begot Mean Girls and that is why the cycle continues through the generations. Perhaps there is a portion of one's soul that actually harbors evil and the spreading of this aura becomes unleashed by some inner uncontrollable torment. I am amazed that parents believe taunting, ridiculing, belittling and excluding of others is an acceptable mode of behavior for their children.

The response that "It was only words" and "She didn't physically harm her" makes me wonder if these parents sprang into the world as full grown adults. Surely they must never have experienced classroom horrors to believe this is an acceptable rite of passage. It hurts, does a number on one's confidence, and in extreme instances, causes immeasurable, everlasting harm. Why any parent would brush these experiences aside is saddening and maddening.

Perhaps they should have had more skilled English composition teachers - to teach them the power and influence of the word. Perhaps they should listen to Hitler's stadium speeches or Churchill's radio communiques, perhaps then they would understand the magnitude of every syllable.