A Nasty Guy : A Kid Who Got Left Behind

Especially this one time I was taking archery lessons. My teacher looked at me with grieved face since I had such skinny arms and I was so tiny. Little did he know I went to the gym almost every day after school. I remember I told him I don't need to have such a light bow. A light bow was a small bow that was extremely light used for children. My instructor expected me to be absolutely terrible when testing came. He figured that since I was skinny I had no upper body strength at all. However, when testing came he observed me on every shot that's when he realized I had so much more potential and he put me in his advance program. At school, I don’t talk much about myself. I’m mostly anonymous around my peers. Many first impressions of me believe that I’m petite therefore they can down on me. However, some students have seen me at a Chicago Tenri Judo Dojo. Here we train for self-defense and martial arts. One of my peers saw me train and found out I was the main leader of the elite group. After, the word came out everyone stop looking down on me seeing me as a dainty girl. Kate was seen as a very popular and outgoing girl in high school however she was really a loner and had no friends. Connecting with me numerous people thought just because I was small I was very fragile. In all honesty, people are not always the always they seem.

The first day of 6th grade, I was shaking in fear, disliking everything about it. But after 3rd period, I realized it wasn’t too bad. The rest of the day went pretty smoothly and I was about to get one the bus when someone pushed me out of the way yelling, “Move it fatty!” When I got on the bus and found my assigned seat, I was frozen in fear to see that I was right in front of the kid that pushed me. His name was Luke. Luke was an 8th grader who was notorious for bullying the younger kids for his entertainment. “Looks like we got the fatty in front of us!” He yells to his friends as they crack up. I sit there ignoring them, feeling horrible. Luke leans forward and says, “Did you hear me, big boy?” I keep ignoring him as he continues to verbally

My weight never once had a part in any of these life decisions. We are now currently in the spring semester of my first year of college and I am finally realizing something. My weight is not a reflection of my mood. Ten year old me would have never believed that the word “obese” was not the worst word she would or could be called in her lifetime. Twelve year old me would have never guessed that a girl her size could get a boy a zillion times better than Austin, a boy named Travis who tells her he loves her every chance he gets. Sixteen year old me only assumed that the weight loss that she had lost was only the product of a sport that she no longer played, but now she is under the goal that she had set for herself when she was at her worst and is still working towards losing more. I am currently eighteen and I have learned two things. Everyone’s thighs jiggle when they run and that assuming things about the future does make an ass out of you and me. I still binge on fast food sometimes, and say hateful things to myself in the mirror too. I am only human. My diet is also healthier; I exercise frequently, and try to smile more often. Although my weight is still something I believe I could work on, it is no longer in control of how I feel. I am, and that's just a bittersweet

I was very shy and awkward during my adolescent years. A cringe-worthy yet endearing moment of reflection of suppressed memories. I was the fourth child out of five, to two immigrant parents. We were a low income family with no budget for vacations or expensive school trips. Socially I was not accepted. I was always the outlier. Subsequently, I was bullied and it impaired my childhood for quite sometime. I felt as if I was sentenced to social death that I just could not replevy before the end of adolescent years. Other students taunted and jeered at me habitually; even with uncontrollable factors. I specifically remember my Haitian heritage being one of the domineering methods of my torture. I recall that being subjected

After years of harassment, I concluded that the only way to end this torment was to change myself. I deepened my voice and regulated my actions, concealing the qualities that made me, me. For a while, it worked; the bullying had ceased, and I eventually fit in. However, after eighth grade, after I had finally managed to

I agree with this because there is a lot more bullying in today’s day in age than there was way back when. Also kids take it more personally which messes with their self esteem quite a bit.

I was one of the tallest people in my grade, and was super skinny. With my mild Cerebral Palsy, I had speech problems for a long time. Due to all of this, I didn’t exactly fit in. Every day as I walked in the doors, I would completely shut down. My grades fell, and I blocked most of the world out. I could here the “popular” groups whispering and giggling every time I walked in the hall and notes would be passed around in class. I sat at a table in the corner by myself, I didn’t have any friends in

Kids make fun of other kids for the smallest of things that differ from them, such as making fun of a little boy/girl who loves a certain thing like a different cartoon from them or like mythical creatures or even kids who do not or do eat school lunches or bring something from home as well as dumb things like backpacks, clothes, even their favorite color and lastly who they like. These are the small things, growing up I never ever seen an African American until I moved to another town and then the year after that one boy moved their joining our football team. This was very different for me and

My whole life I’ve felt like an outsider. When I was younger dealing with a learning disability, I have had a hard time making and keeping friends even to this day. I struggle with being a follower instead of a leader. My own adoptive father verbally abused me growing up and I also had kids in fifth-sixth grade who constantly bullied me. I still am reminded of an instance when the first day of fifth grade approached: I got on the bus and these older girls started making fun of my pants saying, “She’s wearing high-waters.” I was humiliated in front of my peers every day since than during those two years. After being bullied for so long I made a vow to myself to never forget the pain inflicted upon me on a daily basis.

Soon enough, I started to believe them; by the conclusion of fourth grade, I felt worthless. When I learned that I would be transferring schools, I saw redemption. That summer, I exchanged novels for magazines; I went on extreme diets to lose weight as if cutting pounds could cut the memories of abuse from my head. Going into fifth grade, I found myself googling “How to be Normal” in an attempt to abandon my identity; fifteen pounds and a miniskirt later, I had all but done so.

Being kind to each and every person you talk to can be challenging, but the impact that you may have on them can be remarkable. School is one of the cruelest places for a pre-teen or teenager. Girls and boys can single you out and laugh at you because you do not look the same. Many children feel as if they are not as good as others.

I have been constantly harassed about the way my hair looks and the color of my skin and the way my nose looks. Yes, my dad is black. No, I don't know why my skin is pale. No, I am not albino. Yes, my hair is real. No, do not touch my hair without asking. No, I do not have a perm. Yes, I am aware I have [had] an afro. No, my hairstyle doesn't have anything to do with the 70's funk hairstyle (funk isn't dead, either.) Yes, I can see you taking "sneaky" photos of me. "Albino black kid," "Your hair looks like [insert insulting comparison]," "Wow, you look like "[insert literally ANY person with an afro or remotely big hair]," These things may not seem like harassment, at the time I may not have had said anything about it, but they were one of the leading causes of me hating myself and the way I looked. The general disregard for my appearance continued into high school where the harassment was not as frequent, but still present. I began to neglect my hair as a form of self-neglect of wellbeing due to the low self-esteem. After a while, it turned into a fear that if I cut my hair it would "erase" the only thing I have that helps identify my race. This led to a series of other fears. These fears continued all the way up to a week before I graduated where I decided that I do not need to PROVE my race or look any certain way to please anyone, it is my body and my hair. It had my first actual haircut

During my younger years I was very insecure about myself and unsociable. In part, this was probably due to being at home by myself for numerous years while my Mom took the night shift at HyVee. In fact, I was bullied because I was different from the general population in Blue Springs, Missouri. I didn’t have the newest gadget nor was I able to create a connection with my peers. Due to my

As a young child, I was timid towards participating in class activities, and I would not seek help if I was struggling because I was terrified of judgement from both my teacher and my peers. I was so insecure about myself, that I became obsessed with the idea that I was obligated to complete any task anyone gave me because I was a burden on them and their life. I would go out of my way to help someone on their homework to my own grade’s deficit, or I would knowingly place myself into the middle of social drama I was not involved in simply because I could not say no. This eventually resulted in me becoming both emotionally and physically exasperated. I began to isolate myself from both friends and family. This way, I could not be held accountable for

Foremost, smacking children might send the wrong message! Some kids that come to school often act more misbehaved. Would you want your child to be a rowdy riot? Some even become bullies! Research shows that 80% of kids get neglected from their parents, and some kids don’t bother to tell their worries to their parents because they are worried that they will raise their hand on them, so therefore, kids vent out their anger on other innocent