I’m sure I’ve told you this story. It’s one of those formative events that pops into my head every so often. Reading Martha Brockenbrough’s post about excluded kids brought it back to me in a way I hadn’t considered: What should we do as the parents in these situations?
Some background, in case you’ve missed it. My dad was an alcoholic. The summer before my second grade I had a birthday party and cookout. My mom took us to the park and when we returned he was plastered with the parents of another attendee. Things were thrown, my mom took us back to the park, stories (most likely embellished, but even if they weren’t certainly terrifying enough to make parents forbid kids from coming to my house) were told to parents, I entered the second grade and no one would talk to me. It didn’t help that I was already pretty awkward and loved being the teacher’s pet.
My mom took in latchkey kids for extra cash. One, S., was forced to include me in all of her events, including a pool party at her house at the end of the year. S told me I shouldn’t go, that it wouldn’t be fun, that we wouldn’t be able to use the pool, etc. I wasn’t stupid. I knew what she was getting at. I begged my mom not to make me go, but she went on and on about how lucky I was to be included, how fun it would be, how she wished she had such rich friends when she was a kid (yup, she actually said that).
At the party I had a great time. I loved swimming, and though most of the girls were avoiding me, I barely noticed there was so much to do by myself. (They even had a DIVING BOARD!!!) Then S. called us all into a huddle the way only second-grade girls can. She talked about how much fun we were going to have and how great the sleepover was going to be and how we “all love everyone who’s here…well except for one person, but she doesn’t know who she is.” Only she did.
As calmly as I could I walked into the house and called my mom to come get me. I kept it together until I was on the phone and my mom just wasn’t understanding. When I started bawling she told me to “grow up and get over it” and hung up. S.’s mom got me a glass of water, but I don’t know if she heard my story. She showed me how to use cool water to make my red eyes less noticeable (not that it helped) and sent me back out with a plate of cookies.
On Monday one girl had lice and it was said I gave it to her at the party. Songs were sung about me and lice and my general disgustingness. I got over it.
People turned down my invitations. I wasn’t invited to every party. I don’t remember a single one of those. I do remember the sneers, the statements of “my mom is making me invite you,” the mean notes inside thank you notes and invitation cards and Valentines. Kids are mean. You can’t force your kids to be nice. Trying to get them to invite the kid they don’t like only teaches them to be disingenuous and increases the divide between them and the outcast.
I’m all for getting your kid to try new things, to invite the new kid, to step out of her comfort zone. But I will never force mine to invite the me-equivalent. Maybe I’ll suggest it, and if they so no we’ll try to talk about it. But forcing the issue is doing the outcast no favors. We may want our kid to be the one who doesn’t care about being popular, or who cares more about being nice and fair than being popular, but it isn’t fair to make that choice for them. And it’s a really hard choice to make when your entire world is school. I don’t think I could do it.
And if my kid ends up being the outcast, as I think everyone is at some point in his life, I’ll listen and give him hugs and make sure he knows that he isn’t an outcast with me and that there is NOTHING wrong with him. I’ll find him other activities outside of school. Mostly I’ll try to help him understand that we can’t change the way other people act, only how we respond.
