The schoolyard clash of the bully-battling mantras

Quick now — complete this sentence: “Sticks and stones may break my bones…”

Chances are, if you are old enough to have put classrooms and playgrounds behind you, you ended the quote with something like “but words will never hurt me.”

But give your school-age children or grandchildren the same quiz and you might hear, “but words can break my heart” or “words can kill my spirit” or some other pain-affirming phrase like that.

Because that’s the way the mantra is being taught to many of this generation’s victims of bullying. Sometimes it is even written on the blackboard for the children to chant in glum unison.

And — it seems to me — this newer version of the old rhyme is a bad idea.

There is no question that words matter, that they have the power to harm or to heal. What kind of writer would I be if I thought otherwise?
But if you think you can end bullying by reminding young thugs that their ugly words are the effective weapons they hope them to be, then you don’t understand bullies very well.

And if you think you can comfort victims of bullies by encouraging them to embrace victimhood, then you don’t understand victims very well either.
The whole point of telling a bully that words can never hurt you — even if it isn’t true — is to rob the bully of the pleasure he derives from causing verbal pain.

But if you moan, “You sank my battleship” to every bully who fires a shot across your bow as you navigate the stormy seas of adolescence, then you’re doomed to a rough crossing toward adulthood. Because that is exactly the sort of surrender that a bully is longing to hear from you.

The power of the “words will never hurt me” mantra lies in reminding us that there truly is a difference between the damage that a stick can inflict and the impact of words. A well-aimed stick will break a bone every time, because the laws of physics and anatomy are immutable. But a pain-seeking word must be processed through the brain before it can do any damage — or be laughed off. We have to agree to the force of a word before it can have any effect on us.

How is it that young black men may call each other the “N” word at their most gleeful moments and in their songs yet flare with anger when they hear the same word in another context or from another speaker?

How is it that presidential candidates can endure the venom of the other political party — much of it untrue, all of it intending harm — and not burst into tears or quit on the spot?

The answer is obvious: It is not the word that causes harm. It is how we process the word, whether we bestow it with malignant power or not. Psychic damage may be more painful and long-lasting than physical damage, but only if our psyche allows the damage to take place.

So having kids chant “words can break my heart” is a bad idea because it bestows power to the bully’s words.

There is nothing new about bullying with words: That little “sticks and stones” rhyme was first published in 1862. And as I recall from my own childhood, it worked pretty well as a mantra—as long as it was delivered with a calm face and a back turned on the bully as you walked away.

Oh, it was never truly honest, because you never would have chanted it in the first place if the bully’s words hadn’t stung you. And once you had walked out of sight, your calm face might be streaked with tears.

But bullies aren’t always the sharpest cheese in the deli. Wear a calm face and flash your tail-lights at them enough times, and they’ll tire of the game and go looking for softer meat to tenderize.

Go ahead, ridicule my absurdly mixed metaphor. Sticks and stones, sticks and stones…

I realize that modern technology propels venomous words farther and faster than ever before. I understand that children may be harmed through today’s social media in more ways than was ever possible in previous generations. I agree that we should do all we can do to stop the hateful harm that a bully inflicts on a victim for no other reason than the bully has the power to do it.

But that is all the more reason to help teach a bully’s target how to grow a thicker skin, a better force field against the verbal attacks. And when it comes to language, there is no better force field than the powers of the target’s mind.

Whenever I came home stung by teasing as a child, Mom would chant that “sticks and stones” mantra to help thicken my skin. And then she said, “Ignore them. They’re just jealous of you.”

It seemed hard to believe at the time that anyone could be jealous of me, but Mom’s blind faith in my inner value was comforting. It was doubly comforting to know that she believed I had the resources within me to repel the pain of a bully’s words with nothing more than the power of my own mind and that any friend who would laugh at a bully’s torment wasn’t a friend worth having.

As usual, Mom was right. I know now that my childhood tormenters were sad, twisted souls who were so unhappy with themselves that they thought they could only feel better by making others feel worse. They were jealous of any well-balanced kids, and they strove to knock them off-balance. Any “friend” who laughed at a bully’s taunts of another kid was too weak to trust his own balance.

Of course, it took time to see that. But it was nice to have a mantra that helped a kid develop a thicker skin back then. Kids today need it no less.
Time also showed me that most bullies aren’t smart enough to stop their taunts until they meet an even bigger bully somewhere in the world. And then they, too, would learn all about being hurt.

Sometimes by sticks and stones.

• Author, musician and storyteller TR Kerth is a retired teacher who has lived in Sun City Huntley since 2003. Contact him at trkerth@yahoo.com. Can’t wait for your next visit to Planet Kerth? Then get TR’s book, “Revenge of the Sardines,” available from Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and other online book distributors.

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