Amanda transferred to Hamilton Middle School in her seventh grade year from a Catholic K-8 school in an upscale area of San José. Her mother had been born in the Philippines. Her father was a San José native of Korean parents. Amanda had been bullied mercilessly by a group of girls in her class throughout fifth and sixth grade. She was hoping that seventh grade might be different. It wasn’t.
Through the kindness of a friend, Amanda and her mother lived in a rented room in a home in the southwest area of San José. Her father had been killed in a tragic head-on collision when Amanda was in third grade. He was returning home from work one evening when a drunk driver in a large sport utility vehicle drifted into oncoming traffic on Monterey Highway. The SUV collided with his vehicle, killing him instantly. In the aftermath of that tragedy, Amanda and her mother needed housing assistance. It was then that Mrs. Pritchard, an old family friend whose husband had died several years earlier, invited Amanda and her mom to move in with her. With financial assistance from the school, Amanda was able to enroll in the local catholic elementary school for her fourth grade year.
Her first year at the school was uneventful. She struggled a bit academically in the first semester, but by January was achieving at grade-level in all her subjects. She made friends easily and felt accepted by her new classmates. For whatever reason, though, as often happens when kids approach the middle school years, the tide of public opinion turned against her at the beginning of her fifth grade year. From that time on, Amanda was excluded by many of her classmates from group activities during recess and lunch. When her teacher would instruct the students to break up into groups for a classroom activity, Amanda was routinely shunned by those who had once been her friends. Social isolation soon led to active bullying. On several occasions, Amanda found her lunch smashed inside her brown paper lunch bag. Someone smeared glue on several pages in her math book. During morning recess one day, a ball “accidentally” hit the back of her head with such force that it knocked her glasses off her face. And on yet another occasion, while using the rest room one day, someone tossed a large paper cup filled with water over the top of the stall door, drenching her hair and school uniform. This harassment continued throughout Amanda’s fifth and sixth grade years.
In early October of Amanda’s seventh grade year, her mother sought help from the seventh grade teacher and the school principal. Both tried to downplay the actions of the bullies as “normal middle school drama,” and encouraged Amanda to “be strong and just ignore it.” When the bullying intensified to the point where, in the first week of November, Amanda was cornered in the girls bathroom and kicked repeatedly by one of her classmates, her mother reported the attack to the pastor of the parish, who was the top administrator for the school. He promised to investigate the situation thoroughly.
Several other parents, who had heard about the incident, warned Amanda’s mother to be prepared for disappointment, reminding her that several of the mean girls in the class, including the student who had repeatedly kicked Amanda in the bathroom, were the children of some of the wealthiest benefactors of both the school and the parish. They told her that kids from wealthy families could get away with just about anything in that school.
As these parents had predicted, the pastor, too, tried to sweep the incident under the rug. In a meeting with Amanda and her mother, the pastor told them that in today’s world, the popular phrase “boys will be boys” applied equally to girls, and that it was Amanda’s responsibility to adapt to the social situation in the school and to develop the social skills needed to get along with her classmates.
The next day, Amanda’s mother removed her from the school, packed up all their belongings, and moved in with friends in West San José so that Amanda could be enrolled in Hamilton Middle School.
Amanda’s first day at Hamilton was the best day she’d had in school in the past several years. In a meeting before school, one of the school counselors, Mrs. McShane, assured Amanda’s mother that her daughter would be safe at Hamilton, and that they would check-in with her on a regular basis in the coming weeks. Mrs. McShane also contacted Priya, a seventh grade girl who had earned Mrs. McShane’s respect, to solicit her help with caring for Amanda during this time of transition. Priya was an exceptionally bright, perceptive, and compassionate young woman. Mrs. McShane, confident that Priya would be a tremendous resource for Amanda as she adjusted to her new school, summoned her to her office.
“Amanda, I’d like you to meet Priya,” she said in a soft, comforting voice.
“Hi,” Amanda replied shyly.
“Hi, Amanda. Welcome to Hamilton. I think you’re going to like it here,” Priya said with a sparkle in her eye.
The meeting went on for a while longer. Both Amanda and her mother felt confident that this was going to be a welcome change of scenery.
After school on Monday of her second week at Hamilton, Amanda and Priya walked over to Jamba Juice in the El Paseo de Saratoga Shopping Center. They had arranged for their mothers to pick them up there at 4:30. Amanda ordered a Peach Pleasure smoothie. Priya ordered her absolute favorite — a Razzmataz. When they got their drinks, they stepped outside and sat in the warm afternoon sun at one of the tables.
“Do you mind if I ask what happened at your old school?” Priya inquired cautiously.
For the next twenty minutes, Amanda openly shared stories of the daily harassment she had endured at the hands of her classmates, many of whom had been her friends. She told Priya how hurt she was by their actions, how betrayed and alone she felt. Priya understood. She, too, had gone through a period of time when some of her classmates had turned against her. She listened to Amanda’s stories compassionately, not saying much, but attentively focusing on her every word. Amanda felt totally accepted. She knew that Priya understood her, related to her stories, and would do anything necessary to protect Amanda in her new school environment.
Finally, Priya spoke up. “I don’t want you to think I’m conceited, but… I’m pretty well-respected at Hamilton. I wouldn’t say I’m popular, but popularity is over-rated anyway. My classmates seem to accept me for who I am, and, for some reason, I know that I have the ability to influence many of them in a positive way. It’s actually a pretty intense responsibility for me, but I try to use that influence to make Hamilton a better place to be. If we hang out together for awhile, I think you’ll be accepted here, too.”
“That sounds good. Thanks,” Amanda responded. “I’ve never been popular, either, but I don’t want to be. I just want to fit in with everyone else. Hamilton seems like a pretty cool place.”
“It really is,” Priya replied. “I think you found your new home.”
Amanda smiled. “Hey, there’s my mom. I gotta go,” she said. “Thanks for listening to me, Priya. You’re awesome!”
“You are, too, Amanda! See you tomorrow.”
In the weeks and months that followed their initial meeting, Amanda and Priya became very good friends. Priya, who was an excellent tennis player, invited Amanda to participate on the tennis team. Amanda would be the first to admit that she wasn’t very good at tennis, but the connections she made with her teammates was one of many reasons Amanda cherished her experience at Hamilton.
As one might expect, Amanda’s mother was tremendously grateful to see her daughter smiling again. She had endured far too many tears in the previous years — Amanda’s, as well as her own.
That night, after Amanda had gone to sleep, her mother was reading a magazine article and came across the following quote by Dag Hammarskjöld, the former Secretary General of the United Nations. She re-read the quote several times, knowing that it held a powerful message for both her and Amanda: “For all that has been, thanks. For all that will be, yes!”
© 2017
