Callison: Bully stories give students perspective

Terry Hofer never was a bully, and he never was bullied by others, the Edison Middle School teacher says. His conscience is clear there.

But 40 years later, he would like a do-over on the times he took no action when a classmate was being bullied. Hofer and his friends would let the classmate join them at their lunch table and sometimes find themselves splattered by food missiles aimed at the other boy.

Decades later, his inaction still haunts him.

“I still think about it and wish I’d done more,” the eighth-grade U.S. history teacher says. “Even if it’s not you doing the bullying, it still has an impact.”

To help his current students avoid such regrets, Hofer joined four other Edison staff members earlier this semester in an anti-bullying presentation. Using PowerPoint presentations, the five shared incidents from their past, showing a willingness to make themselves vulnerable that they hope will have an impact on the youngsters who fill the desks in their classroom and sit at library tables.

When librarian Kjerstin Smith was in school, the popular girls formed a clique called the “super sisters.” One day, she was invited to join, but her best friend was not. Smith told her friend that they could play together for one recess period, but she would be with her new friends for all the others.

The friendship endures today, but Smith never has forgotten the pain she inflicted on her friend.

“It’s been my quest as I age to be more authentic,” Smith says, explaining why she shared this story. “And I know what it’s like to be in middle school.”

As the youngest among those who shared their story, eighth-grade science teacher Kayla Schindling understands the pain of cyber-bullying. For her, it happened in the days before Facebook, when MyPage was a thing. One day, she used the social media to make fun of the clothing worn by a girl in a rival clique.

Schindling later apologized, but only on MyPage, never speaking to the girl face to face. That incident still scalds but helped the young Schindling realize she didn’t want to be a follower.

She tells the story now, Schindling says, to inspire her students to realize that they can move from being a bully to a defender.

“I’ve asked these students to be vulnerable with me, sharing their stories, being honest with me about what’s happening daily,” she says. “It’s only fair to show them I’ve been there, too. Hopefully, they can learn to trust us with their stories.”

All middle schools offer anti-bullying programs, but the five in Sioux Falls have the autonomy to choose the presentations. The Edison committee chose the personal stories as a way to inspire students.

Eighth-grade social studies teacher Erica Bell told the assembly, which included some parents, custodians, bus drivers and other adults involved in Edison, that she had been a bully who ended up getting bullied.

She and her band friends would throw drumsticks at another drummer, grab her lunch and make her cry. The other student eventually quit band.

Then the friends turned on Erica and started treating her that way.

“The kids cheered and clapped after every person shared their story,” Bell says. “They clapped and were supportive.”

“I got a number of hugs from kids who wouldn’t normally hug me,” says seventh-grade English language arts teacher Cindy Cummins. “They said, I can’t believe anyone was mean to you.”

Cummins’ story focused on the power of words and their lifelong effect. From elementary school on, jokingly or otherwise, she found herself labeled as fat, merely for being larger than her female classmates.

“I still struggle not hearing those voices consistently even at 48,” Cummins says. “So, I’ve hated my body and my looks and struggle with self-confidence simply because I allowed others’ words to infiltrate my brain and convince me that I wasn’t worth it.”

It hurts to hear that, even now. But there’s healing in turning painful parts of their past into lessons for the students they face daily. It’s paying off.

“I think students see us as defenders pretty easily after three years of the program,” Schindling says. “They see where we started and that we all can be a defender given the right tools. We’ve lived through it. We have something to teach.”

“And not because we have to teach them,” Cummins says. “None of us had to do that. It was all voluntary.”

Reach Jill Callison at 331-2307 or jcalliso@argusleader.com.