Disarming a school bus bully with language and connection

When I was in middle school, I experienced a fair share of bullying especially on the bus rides to and from school at around age 12. 

For a period, there was a group of neighborhood girls that would regularly coordinate sitting in the seat behind me to hit the back of my seat. Their kicks and punches against the bus seat would never be physically painful, but they gnawed at my sanity as I found myself frozen in fear and frustration.  

Telling them to stop didn’t stop them. Reporting them to the bus driver didn’t do much as he didn’t intervene. This went on for weeks and weeks. I did my best to avoid them by selecting seats away from them.  

One day, as one of the girls proceeded to kick the back of my seat and my rage reached a boiling point, without thinking about it, I did something that still surprises me to this day.  

Knowing this group of girls were native Spanish-speakers, I asked, “Can you help me with my homework?”  

I took out my homework assignment for that day on telling time in Spanish, pointing to pictures of a clock and words I was finding challenging to pronounce like reloj (“clock”) and horario (“schedule”).  

The bullying girl was in shock. Her eyes widened and then narrowed with a head tilt as she became perplexed by how I reacted to the seat hits this time. She paused.  

And then – and I will never forget this – she cracked a smile. She corrected my super gringa accent to properly roll my r’s and the words I had trouble with in my assignment.  

After that incident, the bullying stopped. Even decades later, I’m still thinking about why. 

When I shared this story with my husband, he said,

“I know why she helped you. You made her feel valued.” 

Boom. Exactly.  

My lesson learned was that the need to feel seen and valued is universally human. Inadvertently, I stumbled into offering a solution to this bully to feel connected. She likely felt flattered that I was making the effort to learn to read and speak her native tongue. 

This personal encounter reminds me of the story of Nelson Mandela’s former private assistant, Zelda La Grange, on the first time she met the legendary South African leader. She describes how he unarmed her by speaking to her in her native language of Afrikaans, prompting her to cry with overwhelming emotion alongside his grace and kindness.  

I think of those school bus bullies occasionally and wonder if I saw them again today, what would I say? I would introduce myself and try to become friends with them, asking questions about their native countries, share jokes about the times I’ve stumbled in learning Spanish – like the time I asked for “tenderness” (ternura) instead of “beef” (ternera) at a supermarket in Seville, Spain. Just like the butcher told me with a laugh that day, Eso no se puede comprar. “You can’t buy tenderness."

Learning languages has been a constant in my life and career – always will be. Because of this passion, I had strongly considered a career as a diplomat for the U.S. government. Getting paid to learn languages, traveling, and making friends? Yes, please! (More on this diverted career path for another post.) 

As a professional communicator and fellow human, I have seen repeatedly how languages connect you to others. I am grateful for this school bus bully who helped me learn how languages and communicating the right words with earnestness can be disarming.  

If you ever experienced bullying in school, what helped?

-NN