Ex Penna

Today the bus arrived at the edge of our snowy yard promptly at 3:30 and I expected Gigi to leap promptly through the door and declare herself home from the forced labor camp that is middle school.  Instead she quietly slunk in, with a red face and redder eyes, her shoulders drooping so low I couldn't believe she was still upright.

Somehow this bold, smart, friendly girl had been viciously bullied on the bus.  Now I take the middle-of-the-road approach to school bullies.  One one hand, bullying has happened since the time of the cavemen and continues the be an issue, in one way or another, for adults as well as kids (pushy relatives telling you how to live your life, that jerk who's out to get your job, etc.).  If we're able, standing up to these people can be a real breakthrough.  Can we (should we?) really eradicate something that is old as time and that many accept as part of learning one's own strength?  On the other hand, bullying is a painful, unnecessary expression of pointless hate (or repressed desire, jealousy, fear, etc.).  How can we pretend that isn't a problem?  How can we accept it without showing our kids that we condone them becoming victims...or monsters?

Like any mother seeing her child hurt by another, I was ready for blood.  While I simmered, Gigi's dad sensibly called the school to let them know what happened. I probed Gigi for more information: no, it wasn't provoked; yes, others saw and they can be trusted to tell the truth if asked; yes, the bus driver saw but, no, it didn't make her stop.  It had begun with the other girl calling names and shrieking  (can you believe this??) "You're a witch!"  Gigi did as I said before and ignored her, but it only escalated now that she wasn't getting any reaction.  It ended with the girl taking scissors from her bag and trying to cut off Gigi's hair.  Hearing that, I wanted to march right over to that girl's house and shave her head bald and her mother's too, for good measure!

Gigi was upset for quite a while and especially embarrassed at having cried in front of older kids.  I explained things as best I could about how embarrassing things happen to everyone and that, to others, we usually don't look as bad as we think we do.  "It'll fade away and pretty soon, no one will remember a thing about it," I said.  But is that so?  Did it feel like that to me when I was her age?  My optimistic "mom talk" wasn't working.  I needed stronger medicine.  I needed magic.

Up until now (read Dreams and Curses), Gigi has learned and long worked with little magic -- healing, rain making, etc. -- and mostly in her own way, not formulated spells.  It has been time, in my estimation, to begin the work in earnest but it's been slow going without a clear focus to begin.  Was this a good focus?  Can curses properly propel a magical career?

In the end, it's up to every parent, teacher, guide, whathaveyou, to determine when the student is ready and how best to help them cross into the magical life.  If it "takes", great.  If not, try again another time, another way and hope for better success.  Some may disagree with my methods but the timing couldn't have been better.  She was totally ready.

I went to my work room and picked out my favorite spellbook.  Gigi sat sniffling on the couch as I opened the heavy book and sat it between us.  "Now, we're gonna fix this," I said.  "And we're gonna fix her, too!"


We looked through all sorts of curses, Gigi asked questions and I explained, we talked about herbs with bizarre properties, we cracked jokes and cackled at our own wickedness.  I looked at Gigi and her eyes weren't red anymore.  Her body was relaxed but her face was alive with curiosity.

We worked magic together--mother and child, fighting fire with fire.  Our visualizations fed one another, our chanting blending perfectly, growing rich and deep.  The candles burned brightly and reflected in her eyes, her smile.  I talked about having faith in the work because you put your all into it, and about letting that power unfold in its own way because it's on your side and knows just what to do.  I told her of the importance of faith in yourself because you will be the only one certain to always be there for you.  She sat up straight and looked proud, listening more intently than I've seen since she was a wee little girl and thought mommy was a genius.  The work done, we laughed and relaxed.  We washed our hands in special salts and had a hug before bed.  She fell asleep calmly, breathing deeply.

This isn't over and there are things yet to happen between me, this girl's parents, and the school.  But what happens next rests largely on what we did tonight.  There will be no "getting away with it" and no similar events in the future.  But, best of all, what this taught Gigi isn't over and never will be.  She's tougher than any opponent because she's got the will to be.  If it takes a little revenge to teach her that, then I say it's worth it.

Who says that black magic only brings sorrow?  All magic is done for the betterment of someone, somewhere.  The better is here and now--mother, daughter, partners and protectors.  The worse is with our enemies.  What they have asked for, they now receive.  Who are we to deny such a fervent request?