Years later, guilt from bullying

I’m glad to see an increased effort on anti-bullying campaigns in area schools and youth organizations.

It was a long time coming.

Havre Public Schools and most schools in the area, the Boys & Girls Club of the Hi-Line, Scout groups and many others are putting emphasis on the long-range effects of being bullied.

All of this is a little bit late for a girl I went through high school with.

Sheila, I’ll call her, was not especially attractive, a bit overweight and may have had some minor psychological problems going into junior high school, as we called it in those days.

For some reason, early on the hordes of brats, including me, decided Sheila should be the pinata that we could taunt and haze.

She was the one we could feel superior to. By being mean to Sheila, we could prove our superiority.

As far as I know, no one ever hit Sheila. We inflicted mental torture, not physical.

Sheila always ate alone in the cafeteria. The desk next to her was always the last one taken in class. She walked from class to class alone, always being taunted by everyone else — I mean everyone else. No one dared to befriend her for fear of being Sheila's buddy.

People would touch her arm then run through the hall touching others. “Sheila's cooties,” they would yell, as if they were inflicting others with “Sheila's bugs.”

Everywhere she went, there were taunts and name-callings.

Sheila seemed to take it well, all things considered. Sometimes she would laugh it off. Other times you could see on her face the inner torment we were causing.

There were no anti-bullying programs for Sheila to go to. Counsellors weren’t available. Most teachers saw what we were doing to Sheila and ignored it or let it pass with a wink and a nod.

Except for Mrs. Soup.

Mrs. Soup was the gym teacher who didn’t quite fit the stereotype of her profession.

She was quiet, reserved but friendly. She was somehow involved in just about every activity in the school. She was an adviser to the class and Student Council. She attended every school program — sports, chorus, mathletes, everything. Everybody liked and respected her.

One day the school was called to the gym. There was a power outage at the school and buses were coming to take us home.

Students were lounging in the bleachers, waiting for the drivers to arrive.

Sheila walked in and sat down in the bleachers. Everyone screamed in mock horror and rushed away from her as if they were fearful of being seen with her.

We were all shocked as we heard Mrs. Soup bellow from the other side of the gym.

“Stop this right now,” she yelled. “Get back in your seats. This girl doesn’t deserve this treatment. I’d better not see anything like this again.”

She continued to dress us down, just as we deserved.

We were a bunch of junior high kids who had a comment for every event, but we realized this was a good time to keep our mouths shut.

I don’t remember much of the algebra I learned that year, but I remember every word of the lecture from Mrs. Soup, including the parts I won't repeat here.

The verbal taunting of Sheila ceased post-haste. She still sat alone in the cafeteria and never took part in school activities.

I’ve often wondered what became of Sheila. She’s not on any of the Facebook groups from my high school. No one seems to have had any contact with her.

I fear she is still suffering trauma from the treatment we gave her. Hopefully, it all made her stronger and today she is thumbing her nose at the jerks who gave her such a hard time, leaving us jerks with all the guilt we should be inflicted with.

Hopefully, with the adoption of anti-bullying programs, this kind of treatment is discouraged.

Hopefully, today there are a lot fewer Sheilas — and a lot more Mrs. Soups.

(John Kelleher is managing editor of the Havre Daily News. He can be reached at [email protected], 406-265-6795, ext. 17, or 406-390-0798.)