The Importance of Being Kind

When I was in grade 8, a new family moved into the house around the corner. They had three girls, one a grade younger than me, one two grades younger than me, and one in grade 4. The oldest daughter was super nice and fun to be around, and quickly became a good friend of mine. Not only did we hang out on our street, we hung out at school as well, when we could. At school, her middle sister had her own friends and social life so I didn’t interact with her much. But the youngest sister, for some reason, fixated on me in a not-very-nice kind of way.

In some ways, this child bullied me, replete with physical attacks, stealing my stuff, and generally a disrespectful attitude. But she was just a child, my friend’s little sister, and I was older than her, so calling it bullying doesn’t feel entirely accurate because there was still a power differential between us. She picked on me because she saw that I wouldn’t retaliate. I didn’t retaliate because you can’t roundhouse kick a nine year old in the face. But mostly, I didn’t retaliate because she didn’t really have any power over me. Her actions were cruel, but she was more like an awful little sister than a bully.

All that changed about 3 months after being subjected to her tiny tyrannical nonsense. It was the end of the school day, we were all lined up in our respective bus lines waiting to go home. I was talking to the oldest sister when the youngest sister came up to me and started her usual routine, giving me glares, kicking my schoolbag. At one point she ran at me and shoved me out of the line, causing me to nearly tumble to the pavement. She’d done this before, but for the first time she’d made the mistake of doing it right in front of a teacher. The teacher (who knew me for the quiet, mild-mannered A+ student I was) immediately started yelling at the youngest sister, but before she could carry on for too long I got back in line and said “no no, it’s alright, she’s my friend.”

The moment I said those words... I can still remember the look on that kid’s face. It was shock and shame and realization all at the same time. The teacher didn’t exactly stop, but eased her tone to something less angry. But regardless, the lesson had been learned. I could see exactly on her face what that little girl was thinking, I’ve been relentlessly mean to her and she’s saving me from being punished... I have done her wrong.

From that day forward, I had nothing but that child’s cheer and kindness, she was all smiles and boisterous sweetness whenever she saw me. And I remember thinking, this is why niceness matters, this is why you don’t fight fire with fire.

It’s only recently that I remembered this incident (it happened 20 years ago after all) and realized that it’s been a huge factor in shaping my personality. When I eventually went to high school later I employed the same tactic against legitimate bullies with... less effectiveness. But I employed it all the same. You don’t fight fire with fire. And sure, none of my high school bullies ever had a moment of awareness like that little girl did, where they realized that I deserved better from them. But they did mature, gradually, out of their juvenile predilections. It wasn’t that they realized I deserved better, it’s that they realized everyone deserves better.

There's been a spike of hate and anger in the world lately, between the rise of Trump and the Orlando shooting and all the fallout in between. We can all agree that there's too much negativity and hate in the world, and not enough love and kindness. I remember Jack Layton's final message about hope, I remember all the truth that the Dalai Lama speaks upon, I remember teaching a kid about kindness, and I hope that I can show the world we can do better...