Jayne Dowle: All I can teach my son is to stand up for himself

This is probably because you recall your own trepidations. I remember 
my older friend next door coming home from her first day. “What was it like?” 
I pressed her, eager for details. “It was like Grange Hill,” she replied. “Only much worse.”

When I joined her a year later, I found out just how prophetic her words were. Picked on for being clever, picked on for being tall, I ducked out as much as possible and suffered from the condition now recognised as “school phobia”. I left with a pathetic clutch of O-Levels and hot-footed it to the local sixth-form college where I loved almost every minute and proceeded to university.

I realise now that if I had spoken up about the bullies, my secondary school experience would have been much happier. It would probably have been more productive too. I might even have achieved qualifications in maths, science and geography, all of which I failed.

That’s why my first piece of advice for Jack is to never bottle up his thoughts. I want him to achieve academically, but I also want him to be as happy as possible. Every mother is anxious for her child. Not every mother has considered throwing herself under the school bus at the age of 13, though. Jack says the thing that worries him most is older kids singling him out for unwanted attention. The thing that worries me is that my big, tough, sports-mad son has a vulnerable streak. And I know only too well how others smell fear. I’ve told him that he must never, ever hide his concerns. He must find the courage to inform a member of staff and tell me and his father. Bullied children are often ashamed to admit what is happening. He has to know that it’s OK to say you’re frightened.

Bullies pick off the ones who stand out from the crowd. I’ve told him to surround himself with a good crew of mates who will stick up for each other. This will require a certain amount of tolerance on his part. There will be times when he is bored. Sometimes he will have to go along with the general consensus even if he doesn’t want to. This is called growing up and being mature. He has to learn how to compromise, just as he will have to learn how to do quadratic equations.

However, that doesn’t mean he has to do anything which makes him feel uncomfortable. One of the reasons we chose this particular school is because it is in the middle of nowhere. No temptations of town. No shops to loiter in. No bus station to hang around. The flipside of friendship groups is peer pressure. The fuel of peer pressure is bravado. It only takes one member of a group to suggest a little light shoplifting on the way home for the whole gang to be plunged into petty crime. I’m drilling into him the mantra, “just walk away”. This also applies to smoking, drinking, drugs, pornography and making derogatory and disrespectful comments about girls.

It’s a very good idea to find somewhere to walk away to. I’ve told him to seek out a place at school to hide when it all gets too much. For me, it was the library. If I was him I’d head for the music technology room. It looks a lot cooler than our library ever did. And there’s a chance it might help him develop some useful skills. Having something you’re good at and which gains you respect among others is of vital importance in adolescence. It helps you define who you are and who you become friends with. And when the bullies come looking for victims, it provides a kind of magic cloak of invincibility.

I’m not him, though. I have to keep telling myself that. All I am is his mother. I can’t go through his first day for him. I can’t find his way along the corridors and seek out a seat in class next to someone who looks nice. When he loses his locker key, I can’t go in and search for it. When the chemistry teacher seems to be speaking in an entirely alien language, I can’t provide a simultaneous translation. All I can do is to teach him to stand on his own two feet. And all I can teach myself is to stand back and let him walk forward.