An Open Letter To My Middle School Bullies | The Odyssey Online
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An Open Letter To My Middle School Bullies

From the girl who found a way to grow up happy, anyway.

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An Open Letter To My Middle School Bullies
Jennifer Donaldson

If you've known me for a while, you probably already know that I moved around a lot in middle school. If you haven't, I lived in three states in three years, went to four different schools between fifth and seventh grade and went to three schools in the seventh grade alone. This wouldn't have been easy on anyone, and it was especially difficult for me. I was an easy target (at least that's what the other kids thought). I was small, wore glasses, liked reading, and didn't play a school sanctioned sport (in Alabama, there are no school soccer teams and in Texas they only exist in high school). I will never forget the moment in the middle of Mrs. Hart's ELA class when one of my male classmates walked up to me and said, "you look like a nerd," in the ugliest way he could muster. I'll never forget the girls in my PE class closing me in the stairwell between the locker room and gym as a "joke." I went to a school for three months, and did not talk to a single person there from the moment I left; of course they didn't speak to me when I was there, either, but I digress.

On my third transfer of the year, I ended up in what was the best thing we could have asked for. I was offered a position at a magnet school where I spent the next year and a half shedding the layers of protection I had put up to survive in the halls of my previous school. I found people who identified as nerds, themselves, and would never consider spitting it in my face as a derogatory term. I found a group of soccer players and a coach that became my second family (no really, my emergency contact in high school was my club soccer coach and his wife!). I found my best friend who I still talk to nearly every day six years later. I found a way to be who I wanted to be, and a way to grow into the freshman who entered high school unafraid to be me. I found more friends who reflected my attitude and loved me for me. In college, I still keep up with many of these people and I am thankful for them every single day.

So, to those who played a negative role in my past, this one's for you.

Dear Those Who Made My Life a Living Hell,

Hey, remember me? Well, you probably don't, but I definitely remember you.

Living close enough to school to walk home, I insisted my mom come and pick me up because I hated walking home alone while kids would walk on the other side of the street and just ignore me. I would cry to my mom at night and on the weekends because I had no friends to go and do things with, or because someone had called me something nasty in class, again or laughed at me when I raised my hand to answer a teacher's question.

What did I do to deserve all of this?

When my parents told me I didn't have a choice but to transfer again, I cried. I didn't cry because I wanted to stay where I was. I cried because at least where I was, I had teachers who pitied me and let me eat lunch in their quiet classrooms rather than risk having my chair pulled out from under me again in a crowded cafeteria. I cried because I figured if it was still this bad months in, starting over would make it even worse.

I was a nervous wreck walking into a new building with new people. I wore the uniform shirt that I thought made me look least nerdy, I straightened my hair and I hid my glasses in my pocket and would only pull them out when absolutely necessary. After three months of hell that had finally begun to die down, I wasn't ready for it all to start over again.

You made me scared to try and make friends. I expected everyone to be as nasty as you had been to me. You made me want to give up choral music because I found no one to enjoy it with. You made me afraid to be me, and at twelve years old, I should've had a lot fewer worries.

Somehow, I kept myself going, and doing that was the best decision of my life. That little nerdy girl from the front of the class you used to pick on? I had a solo in all of our big shows my senior year where I opened up and let my personality out for the world to see. I am best friends with our prom king. I sill talk to my best friend from high school everyday, and have made countless new and awesome friends in college. "Looking like a nerd?" I sure learned to embrace that as you can see in my senior pictures.

I got into one of the top five universities in the state of Texas. After being offered an academic scholarship, I contacted their coach to pursue a position on their track team. I am now a Division-I track athlete pursuing a pre-health degree in biochemistry with a minor in psychology. I am also on a coveted ROTC scholarship that covers the majority of my cost of attendance, and when I graduate in four years, I will be commissioned as a U.S. Army officer. My goal is to become a doctor who serves in the field overseas.

That little girl you made cry every single night? Yeah, she grew up. She grew up and is living her life in a way better than you twelve year olds who thought caring about school was dumb could have even imagined. She grew up, and she now trains a minimum four hours a day, and could drop kick your ass if she wanted to. But you're not even worth that; you're not even worth being angry at anymore. You're not worth it, because if you read this, you probably won't even know this is about you. Because I was nothing to you, and you are now nothing to me. Have a good life, because I sure as hell will.

Sincerely,

A Much Bigger Girl Who Grew Up Happy Despite It All


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