school

Growing up and learning to find your voice

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Step right upWe were watching that episode of The Simpsons where Bart fights back against Nelson’s crew when they pick on Lisa and he gets beaten up for it. Marge wants Bart to report it to Principal Skinner but Homer says he can’t, it’s against the code of the school yard, which states:

  1. Don’t tattle
  2. Always make fun of those different from you
  3. Never say anything unless you’re sure everyone feels the same way you do

So instead, Bart puts together an army and teaches Nelson a lesson. It’s every bullied child’s dream outcome and makes for a great episode. We had it on video at home so I know it pretty much word for word.

That code really does exist, or it certainly did at my school. To tattle or ‘dob in’ as us cool kids used to call it was very much frowned upon. Rule 2 was definitely kept to – sometimes at my expense, sometimes at other people’s, and I wouldn’t go back to that way of life for all the money in the world. 

And rule 3 – I followed that so closely that I’m still learning to break it. I’m 31 years old and I know I don’t always value my voice. And I don’t think I’m alone in that – I think lots of us struggle to remember we have as much right to speak up as anyone else.

When we step into the real world, independence forces us to stand on our own. And with that comes a daily set of decisions – about whether to stand up for ourselves, for other people, and for what we think is right. Sometimes we make the correct call, sometimes we pick the wrong argument, and sometimes we walk away, never knowing what we could or should have done.

How to interact with people is a life-long course that we never finish taking. And the hardest part, in my view, is working out how to stand your ground without smashing it to pieces. How to say your piece without just screaming the house down or calling people names. How to come away having made a sound argument and, ideally, having persuaded somebody to think a little differently.

NoIf having arguments with people in your head isn’t one of your favourite pastimes then I guess we’re just very different people but I do it ALL the time. I run through exactly what I’d say if only I had the guts and the promise of no repercussions. I’m excellent at it when I have total control, but sadly the world will never know.

In reality, speaking up can sometimes feel like a maverick thing to do, even when it’s totally justified. Whether it’s to say no, I’d rather we didn’t split the bill, I only had a tap water and a side, or, actually, that was my idea, not yours and you know it, or I’m not going to let you speak to me that way, fighting back can feel so bold. I am doing it now, more and more, but I’m never not shaking afterwards.

There are lots of things that can make speaking up feel like the hardest thing in the world. Louder voices, hierarchy, education, subject matter. Sometimes you worry that you’re going to ruin a nice time by contradicting a group decision or a consensus. But it’s OK – as always, it’s all about how you say it. Think like a human being and you’ll be fine.

I’m talking about this now because it feels more important than ever that we’re not afraid to speak up for what’s right. There’s a lot of nastiness, a lot of hate, and a lot of frightening rhetoric around. In this country, in the US, all over. And if we don’t speak out against it and challenge those trying to marginalise and disempower people, it’s going to become the norm. Then goodness knows what comes next.

Of course, what I’m talking about is more complex and important than minor social disagreements, but empowering yourself to take those on puts you in a better position to tackle the big stuff when it comes – and anyway, this is also where you’re likely to hear a lot of it. Whether it’s misogyny over the dinner table or racism on social media or bullying amongst so-called friends – it’s our duty to call it out and push for kindness, equality and understanding instead.

I have a voice and so do you and we don’t just deserve to use them, we have to. If The Simpsons has taught us anything, it’s that bullies know exactly what they are, they just think they can get away with it.

School friends: The ones that didn’t get away

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No-one is better at keeping you grounded than your school friends.

There aren’t many people who will take one look at your passport photograph and say: “No offence, but you look like a smackhead” or who will stand and laugh hard in your face whilst recounting (for the 58th time) the time you drank nine happy hour cocktails and danced alone on stage to The Jackson 5. (In my defence, it was my birthday and I looked excellent). But this is all in a day’s work for a friend who has known you since you were 13 and prided yourself on being able to recite every single word to Boyzone’s Love Me For A Reason (I can also do the official dance moves, if you’re interested).

It isn’t possible to keep hold of all your friends when you leave school, what with university and jobs and having to take charge of the weekly shop, so the ones you do manage to keep are all the more special. They’re the friends who have known you the longest, who have seen you through every bad haircut, fashion faux pas and unfortunate crush and, if you’re lucky, they’ll only mention each of them three or four times every time you see them. They’re kind like that.

All of a sudden your friendship shifts to suit your new adult lives. You’re no longer in the market for lunch break one-upmanship about who’s doing best in maths or getting off with who or how very dare she buy the same hot pants as you. Now we’re talking jobs and careers and – BLIMEY – marriage and babies, but we still throw in the odd anecdote from our younger days to stop us taking ourselves too seriously. (The one about the time I over-gesticulated and hurled my bracelet into the face of a stranger is one of my favourites, though I still don’t think she’d find it funny.)

These meet-ups are evidence that a joke can indeed remain funny forever. I have one friend with whom I have never managed to get through a drink or a meal without mentioning the time we went to see Shrek at the cinema and an unknown boy burped SO loud in my face that she and I were left helpless with laughter. I’m 29 now and it remains one of the funniest things that has ever happened to me, partly because surprise, aggressive burping is always amusing, but also because that moment really summed up my relationship with boys at that time – embarrassing, undignified, and often just a lot of hot air.

But aside from all the giggles and nostalgic chit chat about school trips and hair mascara and the time I thought blue and yellow braces would look good on my teeth (they didn’t), there’s also a lot of genuine love between us too. We’ve had the privilege of watching each other grow up, and take quiet pride in seeing one another slowly managing to get to where we want to be. I hope we never stop meeting and drinking and laughing, and I hope the stories never stop – yes, even the one about my ill-advised fuchsia pink pedal pusher phase – because they remind us of just how far we’ve come.

And if perhaps one of them would be so kind as to remind me of the above mentioned, nine cocktails/solo dancing story in time for my 30th birthday next year I’d really appreciate it. With my low capacity for alcohol these days, I’m more likely to pass out on the stage than dance on it, and I’m sure that, if that does happen, this lot are never going to let me hear the end of it.