Anyone else ever been picked on in school?

No, no, that doesn't go with my pink suit..

We ain't fool'en anybody baby.

Let's get it on.

My earliest memories of pre-school are the name calling. I remember being called "hamburger" because it had the same number of syllables and sounded a little like my last name.

All through elementary school I remember being teased because of my height. I was most often the tallest girl or boy in my classes until the boys finally started their growth spurts.

In fifth grade acne started appearing on my face and I was called "watermelon head" and "pizza face" for several years.

In sixth grade my body started developing into a young woman. I remember being called a "slut" because I had breasts.

I was an award-winning swimmer on the local swim team and often had long sun-bleached blonde hair at the end of summer. I remember being called "onion head" at the start of the school years.


I remember going home from school crying many a day because no one liked me, and I remember the party mom put together for the entire class at kindergarten school in an effort to help me make friends. It didn't work and it was very embarrassing.

In jr high and highschool I got involved in sports, ecology and civil rights and war protests. I think I only had one fist fight and that was with another girl over the use of a handball board on the playground. For the most part I internalized everything and just kept to myself. Books and animals were my friends. Any aggressions or feelings I had about bullying I expressed at civil rights rallies and in articles for the school newspaper. Depending on which group I was with at the time, I was called either a "rah-rah," "commie," "hippie," or "n----- lover."

That name calling made me the person I am today...both good and bad.

Yeah! We'll pick on bullies!!!

So, what's our color? (I'd go for red or black, but no pastels please.)

I think red and blue are taken.

How about turquoise?

My earliest memories of pre-school are the name calling. I remember being called "hamburger" because it had the same number of syllables and sounded a little like my last name.

All through elementary school I remember being teased because of my height. I was most often the tallest girl or boy in my classes until the boys finally started their growth spurts.

In fifth grade acne started appearing on my face and I was called "watermelon head" and "pizza face" for several years.

In sixth grade my body started developing into a young woman. I remember being called a "slut" because I had breasts.

I was an award-winning swimmer on the local swim team and often had long sun-bleached blonde hair at the end of summer. I remember being called "onion head" at the start of the school years.


I remember going home from school crying many a day because no one liked me, and I remember the party mom put together for the entire class at kindergarten school in an effort to help me make friends. It didn't work and it was very embarrassing.

In jr high and highschool I got involved in sports, ecology and civil rights and war protests. I think I only had one fist fight and that was with another girl over the use of a handball board on the playground. For the most part I internalized everything and just kept to myself. Books and animals were my friends. Any aggressions or feelings I had about bullying I expressed at civil rights rallies and in articles for the school newspaper. Depending on which group I was with at the time, I was called either a "rah-rah," "commie," "hippie," or "n----- lover."

That name calling made me the person I am today...both good and bad.

Never picked on, except for one brief stretch in the sixth grade. A movie was out that had a word in it that resembled my last name. Thinking back on this, I'm amazed that it didn't bother me much. I shrugged it off.

I got into many fights in my younger years. My mother was horrified when she found my father giving me lessons in self-defense. "Block it with your left and hit him with your right." "Girls don't need to know that," she said. "This one does," said my father. His feeling was that if I was fighting (and I was), I needed to be able to protect myself.

The fights had nothing to do with teasing or bullying. They mostly had to do with my impatience and hot-temper. (Shame on me.) On reflection it's possible that someone was attempting to bully me or pick on me. But it never got far because I would attack.

In junior high I led a group in picking on someone who had done me wrong. She pissed me off, and I got even. But it bothered me. I saw her several years after that and apologized for being mean. She apologized for doing me wrong. It still bothers me.

BTW, I haven't taken a swing at anybody in a while. I realize that fighting never solved anything, but damn it felt good. To release the rage. Let it out. Not have to deal with it festering on the inside.

Editing to add two things. First I'm sorry that so many people had such a horrible time. Second, I remember that an older cousin used to tease me unmericifully. I would launch myself at him. He fended me off. Just made me madder.

Yeah, the acne was hell. I even started seeing a dermatologist when I was 16.

To this day, I get this one big mountain one every now and again and it's usually right before I have my picture taken or have some kind of meeting.

Of course it's either at the top of my nose right between my eyes, making be look like a cyclops (another name they called me when zit permitted), next to my left nostril (your right), or my chin. It doesn't have any special spot it likes to dwell on my chin, so I at least get a change of pace there

@#$%in zits!!!

So, you were a cool brain, eh Deb. That's cool

Also, if they picked on someone else, I was fearless in defending that person, and wouldn't give in until they apologised. Maybe I was scary?

Heh, every single one of my school pictures has at least one zit on my chin and another at the corner of my mouth. Between the zits and my mom always cutting my bangs way too short, I used to dread school picture day. I spent many an hour at the zit popper's office too.

The one good benefit of zits was in the ongoing battle with my little brother and his constantly following me everywhere. I'd get a handful of mayonnaise then chase my brother and tell him I was going to pop a zit on him if he didn't go home, and flick mayonnaise on him. :wink: He'd run home screaming in horror!

Montana wrote:

Yeah, the acne was hell. I even started seeing a dermatologist when I was 16.

To this day, I get this one big mountain one every now and again and it's usually right before I have my picture taken or have some kind of meeting.

Of course it's either at the top of my nose right between my eyes, making be look like a cyclops (another name they called me when zit permitted), next to my left nostril (your right), or my chin. It doesn't have any special spot it likes to dwell on my chin, so I at least get a change of pace there

@#$%in zits!!!

So, you were a cool brain, eh Deb. That's cool

Only after brains became cool!!!

Actually, in my school there was always a kind of kudos for smarts.....but the pecking order tended to be run more by the not very smart sporty girls...or the vocal bit of it was. It was kind of wheels within wheels.....

dlowan wrote:

Also, if they picked on someone else, I was fearless in defending that person, and wouldn't give in until they apologised. Maybe I was scary?

I do this to this day, even when it is not wanted or desired by the one I'm defending. I get in a lot of needless arguments because I put myself in the shoes of the person being picked on or neglected and yell about it.

I feel a lot more confident in my ability to stick up for someone else than I do sticking up for myself. I don't get as paralized by the hurt I guess.