27: The Cruelty of Children
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From PRI, Public Radio International, from PRI, Public Radio International. I was talking to a first grader about libraries, and I suddenly found myself talking about bullies. That's the thing about the idea of bullies. The idea is so powerful that it can derail any conversation and pull it towards its own orbit. Here's how it happened. We were in a school bus. I was asking the first grader what kinds of books he takes out from the library. And that was all it took. Suddenly he launches into this big thing. There are books to teach you how to be mean. Yeah, and nice. There's this one book that's called "Bully's" These are made for pushing around, and bullies do make all the rules, and they be picking on nice kids. As far as I was able to determine later, talking with parents and teachers and consulting with books in print, there is no book. There is no real book that corresponds to the book this first grader thinks he saw the bully read. And you know, it's a shame. It was such a comforting thought. Why are people bullies? Why are they so mean? Why do they push you sometimes and take your change and say nasty things? Maybe they're just getting it from a book. I'm surprised. Are you sure that's what the book was about? I can't believe somebody would write a book saying here's how to be mean to other people. Well, maybe the person who wrote it was probably a bully himself. Well, from W.B. E.C. Chicago, it's this American life from our class. Back for another week, documenting stories of these United States using all the tools of radio storytelling, documentaries, monologues, overheard conversations, found tapes, anything we can think of. And today we bring you three stories about the cruelty of children. At one, Roger David Sideris explains why he made fun of sissy boys when he was one himself. At two, children and a man trapped in a well. And at three, well, just stay with us and listen. At one, David Sideris is a regular contributor to our program. His latest book is Dress Your Family and Quoterie and Denim. And this next story was recorded a few years ago at a fundraiser for the program Stories on Stage here in Chicago. In this story, David Sideris describes a web of meanness, which he participates in as a victim sometimes and as a perpetrator sometimes. Quick morning, some moments in the story might not be suitable for young boog listeners. These are things I'm working on for a new book, a collection of nonfiction stories. When asked if they're true, I prefer to answer that they're true enough. The only thing you'll need to know in terms of this first story is that during the seventh and eighth grade, I normally spent my summers working at Dorothy Addix, a state mental hospital, and by law, every homosexual must at some point write a variation of this exact story. I like guys. Shortly before graduating the eighth grade, it was announced that, come fall, our county school system would adopt a policy of integration by way of forced busing. My Spanish teacher broke the news in a way she hoped might lead us to a greater understanding of her beauty and generosity. "I remember the time I was at the state fair, standing in line for a snow cone," she said, fingering the kiss curls that framed her squat compact face. A little colored girl ran up and tugged at my skirt, asking if she could touch my hair. "Just once," she said. "Just one time for luck." Now, I don't know about the rest of you, but my hair means a lot to me. The members of my class nodded to signify that their hair meant a lot to them as well. They inched forward in their seats, wondering where this story might be going. Perhaps little girl was holding a concealed razor blade. Maybe she was one of the troublemakers out for fresh white scalp. I sat marveling at their naivete. Like all her other antidotes, this woman's story was headed straight up her ass. I checked to make sure she didn't have any candy on her hands, and then I bent down and let this colored girl touch my hair. The teacher's eyes assumed that dewy, far away look she reserved for such hallmark moments. Then this little, fudge-colored child put her
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