I'm now in 5th grade but right know im talking about 4th. When I was in fourth grade I was picked on, threaten, kicked and I would go to the princabales and no one belived me. I would come home and have bruses and welts. I just couldn't take it. I didn't want to go to school any more but then they would when. So I kept going. Everyday it got worse no one did any thing to stop it. So my mom and grand pa came to my school. That just made things worse. Now that i'm in fith grade even the princabales are bullying me. They threaten to get me detintion for doing nothing. Or they will threaten to suspen me. I hate it and we need to stand up

In 8th grade, I was bullied. I had a good life, and great friends, or so I thought. One day I just walked into school and none of my friends would talk to me. I didn't know why. It turns out the rumors had started, by some of my closest friends. They said I was a lesbian and made fun of me because I had never kissed a boy, and I wasn't a "bad girl" that people liked. I was different. I had strong faith and I wasn't afraid to admit it. No one really liked that. Nothing was said to my face, it was all said behind my back. No one would talk to me. Only 2 people. I would usually sit with my teacher during lunch because no one wanted to be with me,and I wasn't dare going to eat alone. My parents knew, they did everything in their power they could to stop it, but the school just didn't do anything. I felt hopeless. Everyday they would just sit there, I would be the topic of their conversations. I would get annonamous phone calls repeating rumors that were said about me. It got really bad. I was really depressed. I remember actually wanting to die. But then I found hope. I realized that people did care for me. I got so much counseling, and now to this day I am a better person and I want to help everyone. You WILL and you CAN get through this. So if you're being bullied, STAY STRONG. Ignore the lie when people say "You're not being hit, or touched, or punched." No, it's still bullying. It was all emotional for me, and it still hurt. I will never forget the pain that I had.

When I was in high school, I dont remember any bullying done to me by my classmates and friends in our province but when I entered college and study in the city I was bullied because of my different accent. Eversince college until now Im still bullied in my workplace. I have to keep strong and stand by myself, because I dont have any family to protect me here in the city, Im all alone. What I did for them to stop bullying me is just go with the flow, or dont mind them, or stay away from them or befriend them and the best way is, pray to God. I always find ways to be not bullied, we cant stop bullying until you start to learn fighting it. Just remember to be always friendly so that they'll learn to love you and accept whoever you are.

I was bullied mercilessly when I started 4th grade at a new school. I was the only 'developed' female and I was about 30lbs overweight. I was routinely cornered by the same four boys; they would grab my breasts, call me names, and kick me. One day when I approached an adult, head bleeding because I had been beat with my own shoe during a game of Red Rover, she told me not to tattle. I tried my best avoid the boys but I didn't realize that by isolating myself I was even more vulnerable to attack.

I thought about being dead on a regular basis... Finally, I was fed up and desperate. I told my parents to get ready for truancy court because I was not going back. The week they helped me get into another nearby school. Thankfully I wasn't teased or assaulted at the new school. Since that experience I made it a priority to stand up when I see others being bullied, even if it makes me unpopular.

Now that I work with kids I make it a point to talk about bullying. I realize that both bullies and the bullied both need special attention in realizing more practical ways for expressing and protecting them selves.

I was bullied for a very long time. By that I mean the from around the age of 11 until I was 16, which happens to coincide with the time I was at secondary school. I was relatively lucky at my primary school, I don't actually recall a single case of bullying. I'm sure it went on, but I think the teachers nipped it in the bud so quickly it was as though it had never happened.

I've always been rather.... young, I guess, for my age. I don't want to say immature, because in many ways I'm not, but I've always been rather childlike in lots of ways, and I remember going up to secondary school without an awful lot of fear. I'd asked for my best friend from primary school to be in my form, so I thought I'd at least have one person I knew with me. She was very similar to me, and although I'm not too sure whether she kept them for very long after we started secondary school, I knew she had Barbies and teddies that she still loved and played with, like me. I thought everything about my new school would going to be just like primary school, just bigger, and that included my vision of the pupils. I was wrong. The girls here weren't just bigger, they also smoked and swore and talked about boys. I quickly realised I was out of my depth and learned not to make any reference to my large collection of Beanie Babies or the new "Rain Fun" Barbie, with whom I had gotten a free umbrella.

My first year at secondary school was rather disjointed, in that I started in the September of 1999 and my Dad died, suddenly at work, on the 10th of January 2000. I was (somewhat expectedly) away from school for a couple of weeks, but I remember the day I went back more clearly than I remember anything else about those two weeks. Walking up the ramp to my demountable (portakabin, whatever you want to call it), a guy who was in my form, a guy who'd never spoken to me before, said hello to me. I remember stopping and staring at him, wondering what I'd done to deserve a greeting. I later found out from one of my friends from primary school that my teacher had told the class what had happened and that I needed everyone to be nice to me.

This is when it starts to get a little more complicated.
See, I don't know if it was BECAUSE of this that the bullying started. I don't know if it was because I'd been pointed out as different by a teacher, or whether it would have happened anyway. I don't know if it's because I was plump. (I say was. I still am, but that's another blog.) I don't even know exactly when it started. All I know is that at some point during the first month or so after my Dad's death, I became prime target for anyone with some shit to spout or a punch to throw. I quickly lost the few friends that I'd taken with me from primary school (all bar one girl, who stuck by me and was also bullied), and was abandoned by the one friend I'd made in the months before my Dad had died. (This girl later became the first girl in my year to have a baby, she was pregnant at 15. I kind of dodged a bullet really.)
Whatever the reason people had decided to pick on me, once they'd started, it was relentless. I don't remember a day I wasn't called a name and/or punched or kicked. I only remember answering back on one occasion: A girl (who shall remain nameless in this blog but whose name I will remember until the day I die) walked into the classroom and made a fairly usual passing comment about my weight. To this I responded with "Well, I can lose weight, you'll always be ugly." It was the stupidest thing I ever did. She came up behind me and bounced my head off of the desk. I never answered back again.

I decided instead to take the totally opposite route and almost disappear into my work. I started skipping P.E. to do extra work in textiles, I stayed behind after my last classes of the day to ask questions, and I spent my breaks in the library. Lunch times and the walk between classes were the only times I couldn't really hide. It was one lunchtime that the worst thing I experienced happened: I was kneeling down by my locker, getting my lunch, when someone (to this day I don't know who) decided to aim a swift kick at my head. My head hit the lockers so hard my glasses bent in half. I remember going to the reception and calmly asking to ring my Mum to come and collect my glasses to get them fixed for me. I can't remember whether I told her what had actually happened. I didn't tell her much of what went on, there didn't seem to be an awful lot of point, and the teachers, when I bothered to tell them, were useless. The only solution they could come up with was to sit me in a room with the bullies and remove all parental/adult control. Unsurprisingly, I refused this. They would've killed me.
 
But do you know what? I never missed a day of school. I never let them see me cry. I came out of that place with 12 GCSEs. I went on to college. I went on to uni. I came into my own, and became the person I am now.
They didn't break me. They never could have. For all they called me, all they kicked me, punched me, pushed me down the stairs. They COULDN'T break me. If anything, they did me a favour. They helped to make me even more determined to stay true myself. If I'd been friends with them, who knows where I'd be now. Cutting hair? Going home to six kids by different dads? On the dole? No thanks.
 
I'll take my plump body and my crappy cardigan shop and my degree and sit here looking fucking smug, thank you.

If anyone who's reading this is being bullied, the most important thing I can say to you is please remain true to yourself. If you've told the teachers and your parents and no-one seems to do anything (hopefully that won't happen, but just in case), just put your head down and carry on. If people don't like you for who you are, the chances are they're jealous. Or small minded. Or both. But you will come out the other side, and when you do you'll be a stronger and better person for it. Don't let them win. They don't deserve to win.

I would genuinely rather have had five years of feeling like crap and come out the person I am today than have had five years of feeling like the big man and be unhappy with my life.

I am currently in grade seven. I have many friends and I have a great teacher. The only problem was that it wasn't like this before, in grade six. I stuck around a group of kids that weren't really my friends, they just acted like it. They'd dare me to do stuff, give me orders, and pass around my secrets. I thought this was normal friendship in my grade. It didn't get bad until I came to school one day and they were waiting for me and laughing at me. I started to laugh with them, thinking they were just joking around, but really, they were laughing at one of the secrets I told them that they spread around the school. Everyone knew about one of my many, very personal, secrets. I was so embarrassed, and I didn't physically want to get out of bed the next day. All I remember was that I begged to stay home that day. The next day I woke up and at school, everyone in my grade had known about my secret. I felt like I meant nothing to them. Like I was garbage that could be tossed around. About three weeks later, my real friend, that I've known for a long time, came up to me and said, "I don't think you're weird. Everyone has their secrets. I think you're cool." And ever since that day, I've re-gained friends and the hate started going away. I'm happy for my friends and the people who accept me. I never want to experience that ever again. I just want people to know that it DOES get better.

I am currently a freshman in high school, Va beach, Va. It first started in first grade and still happens to this day. But i'm getting ahead of myself. Let me tell you how this all started, in first grade i was best friends with this one girl, i thought she was so nice and we would be friends forever. I was so wrong. We got in a fight, i don't remember what over but i do know it was something stupid. She was the popular girl in school so she started to tell everyone these rumors about me. everyone started to hate me, i was then, ugly, stupid, fat, a loser, etc. I can go on forever. In sixth grade i had had enough and for the first time i fought back. That was a horrible mistake, i ended up with a bloody nose and a lot of bruises. It got even worse from there. I dreaded going to school. I started to fake being sick every other day and staying home. Then... I started to self harm... In seventh grade. I never thought it would get so bad. Until i started to bleed so much i had to wrap my legs in gauze. 8th grade came along, it kept going on. It started to hurt worse and worse each day. When you are called names over and over again you start to believe it. People told me i deserved to die, i shouldn't be alive, that i should go kill myself.. Again, i started to believe them. The self harm got deeper and deeper. I finally told my mom EVERYTHING, i wanted to die. I saw no point in living. If each day was torture, what was the point? I was then sent to the hospital and lived there for awhile, i was diagnosed with depression. and sent out. The problem was, i lied the whole time in there, i just wanted to get out. I relapsed a month later, i attempted suicide. I never told my parents. I began to develop an eating disorder.. I am still battling it to this day. I stopped self-harming. But only because i explained everything to her and she got me help. I am still fighting. I will survive this. 

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I still remember those awful days from my childhood in Boston, MA.  I was beaten up every single day, sometimes twice.  My clothes would be ripped and dirty from being shoved into the ground on the way to school.  My lunch would be taken from as was my milk money. These kids were considerably older than I.  I was eight and they were teenagers.  When they got to be old enough to drive, they would drive the van up onto the sidewalk.  I thought that I was going to die.  They would follow me to school, laughing and joking amongst themselves.  I had always been popular in the other house.  Somehow, I became an outcast when we moved to a new neighborhood.  My parents worked days, so they were not aware of what was happening.  Until the school open house.  My mother went with me.  The teachers all said that I was not doing well that I wasn't up to my potential and that my "friends" were strange.  They were not my friends.  I did not enjoy being beaten, run over by cars, having their dogs sicced on me.  Finally, after a particular brutal beating, my teacher called my mother, because, I was such a mess and could not stop crying. The only thing that kept my teeth in mouth that day was my braces.  They had bashed my face into a stone wall.  We ultimately sued the family. My tormentors lied to the judge. They got off with a slap on the wrist.   Years later, in the lobby of my employer, one of the "brat pack" came up to me and wanted to apologize for his actions.  I have to say, I could not accept his apology. I told him to leave and never heard from him again.  I'm still angry about that whole time frame of 6 years of hell. I am saddened that it still happens.  I am glad however that I am strong enough now to not tolerate bullying by anyone and have stood up for some of my young neighbors who are being bullied.