I’ve had two bullying experiences in my life. The first one was from grade one to about grade four. It was actually my “friends” that were doing the bullying. I was (still am) a loser with minimal friends, so they were the only people who would hang out with me. We would play tag at recess and lunchtime, but the problem was, I was always “it”. And I was a slow runner, so I couldn’t pass it on. They would taunt me for being slow too. It went on for about three years, and I was miserable. Then, one day, it hit me that if I didn’t want to play, I didn’t have to. So, one day at lunch, we were let loose by the teachers and they ran away from me, and I stood there staring at them, and after about three seconds they turned around to try to figure out why I wasn’t chasing them anymore. After that, I realised I didn’t need them and started spending my free time in the library reading up a storm. I’m not sure ignoring them did any good, they did try to coax me back into playing with them, and I think I might have, but it was so long ago I don’t remember it very clearly.
I switched schools in grade six, and the new school was entirely different. I didn’t fit in. There were these boys who were the biggest jerks. My hair used to be longish and umanagable, and when you’re a kid, the last thing you think about is perfect hair. At least that was the way I was. They kept throwing eraser bits in my hair, and writing on the blackboards: **7 up yours loves [some other big loser in class] **. And no amount of ignoring would make it stop. My friends didn’t help much either. So, finally, near the end of the school year, I really have had it with them. So, one night at home, I used the really foamy clay-like things (they were a big hit when I was young. They were mainly used for making jewlery although the result was usually crap), dried the stuff out so it was rubbery, and cut them into pieces. I put them into a ziplock bag, and it was ready ammunition for the next day. When they threw eraser bits at me again, the bag came out, I grabbed a handful and threw them at alpha-bully. I still remember him saying “Holy crap!! What is that shit?!” as one hit him in the eye. (HA!) After that, they stopped bothering me. So, in the case of this one, they didn’t stop until they learned what payback meant.
Also, these events happened a loooooong time ago when teachers cared jack about bullying. Nowadays, you tell a teacher and alarms will go off. A good or bad thing, I have yet to decide.