The bully

My bully's name was Elton Simpson. It was 5th grade and I had to ride the bus. It wasn't actually a bus, but rather a huge green van that held 15 kids easily, and was driven by Mrs. Stamply, a moody 30 something lady...I never understood how she couldn't hear what was happening to me...or did she just not care?

My sister had just gone to high school, so I was alone on the bus.

In 5th grade, I was chubby, already developing my soon to be size D's, had greasy skin, my parents had just gotten divorced, we had moved into this tiny rented piece of shit house in a horrible gang banger neighborhood in New Orleans East that I wouldn't even consider driving through these days without a loaded gun for protection, and I was miserable.

Elton made fun of my weight, my skin, my hair, my house, my "poor ass whore of a mother" - just about anything you can think of. He literally terrorized me from the second I got on the bus until the second I got off and even shouted insults at me out the window as the bus drove off...for two years...it didn't end until I decided to start walking to and from school in 7th grade.

I was the only white kid on that all black bus and I experienced a type of harrassment that social norms would lead you to believe would only occur if the color scheme were reversed...oh but it occurred.

His dad was a doctor and my newfound poverty level since my parent's divorce, along with my weight were his favorite targets.

Screw him - to this day, I hate him and I hope he is living under an overpass somewhere eating rats for dinner - and yes, I totally mean that from the bottom of my heart. He was pure evil.

My boy has been acting out ALOT lately. His grades have had a mild downward shift. His behavior at home has been outrageous. I attributed it to the baby sister he doesn't want, but will be getting anyway in February when his stepmom gives birth. I've read the books so I expected some behavioral or school issues when the baby's arrival got close.

In a total panic attack type melt down tonight over doing his homework, we finally learned the truth - my baby has a bully.

Oh god...oh god...oh god....NOOOOOOO! Just the thought of him having to endure even an ounce of what Elton did sends shivers down my spine and has put me in attack mode.

I took Luke tonight out to go see Christmas lights after dinner - just me and him. We drove through neighborhoods known for having lots of lights and stopped in 2 lighted parks to walk, and he unloaded the whole story. My son will talk and tell me everything...but I have to do it carefully or he'll clam up - it's an art I'm just learning since he outgrew the "freely and exhaustingly telling mommy about every minute of his life" stage.

Thankfully, it doesn't appear to be nearly as bad as Elton, but you can see his heart hurting in his eyes and his fear screaming for me to fix it - just fix it mommy, please! And you can see very easily how this situation could escalate too quickly into something much more.

So his father and I are going in tomorrow to meet with his teacher and begin the process of hopefully "fixing it". Some people may criticize me for stepping in and not just letting him work it out on his own - and even I'm not sure if I'm doing the right thing yet - isn't parenting 99% jumping in without testing the water?

So, if you stuck through this post for this long, I love you and now I hope that you'll share with me your thoughts - is going to the teacher the right thing to do? God, parenting a 4 year old is so much easier than this drama filled 8th year. Help!