School Bullies

From the age of seven to sixteen, I attended a private school run by Anglican nuns. (Yes, you read that right. Anglican nuns. They do exist.) I had a rather rocky start, coming in part way through the school year and almost immediately missing several weeks when I was seriously ill with glandular fever. I never really "clicked" with the other girls in my year for these and other reasons.

Children can be so cruel without thinking. I remember one day when it was raining heavily. Because of the weather, the usual "outside play" rule was relaxed and we were allowed to remain inside the school buildings during recess. I'm sure everyone was bored without access to the usual playground equipment, and expansive grounds. Anyway, I found myself outside the building, in the rain, and the game of the day seemed to be to play "let's not let her back in". Teams were assembled to guard each doorway, holding them closed with brute force. As was the familiar pattern, I was upset and bemused by why they would want to do this to me.

After quite some time, they were discovered by Sister Phyllis Ella. Reluctantly, they relinquished control of the doors and I was finally able to escape the rain. Later, one of the girls, Anne, told me that she had bitten Susan's hand to try to get her to let go of the door handle, but Susan was so determined that she wouldn't budge. I don't know if Anne's story was true but she remained my friend outside of school until we were in our early twenties. At school, however, we did not hang out together. I understood. She was popular, after all, and wouldn't want to jeopardize that.

The ringleaders were identified and given their punishment - they had to write letters of apology. To my mother. I remember my mother was bewildered as to why the letters weren't written to me. In my infant mind, I was learning that this was just the way the world worked. Susan continued to be my nemesis well into my teens. My mother told me it was because her parents were in a troubled marriage, and she envied me for having "the cool mother". In fact, during many of those "arranged play dates" that happen in busy families, it seemed quite a few of my classmates liked my mother better than me. It would be over ten years before I was able to make close friends, after I started college.

Through one of those web sites that reunites people, I made email contact with both Anne and Susan a few years ago. Susan's email correspondence was all about her successful career, her two sons and included a photo to show how trim she'd kept her figure. Despite her profile mentioning me by name as someone she was looking for, she never asked about my life. Anne's email was about the time she'd visited the city where I now lived, and when I talked about how I'd felt like an outsider as a child, she told me that I had given off an aura of not wanting to be friends with others. I had no idea. I still don't.

(In the photo at the top of this post, we're all about nine years old, two years after the rain incident. You can see Sister Phyllis Ella, with Susan to her left. I'm sitting directly in front of Susan, and Anne is kneeling on the ground in front of me.)