Mean girls

Some time back, my daughter and I were talking about school buses, since she will take the school bus next year. I was telling her how crowded our school bus in India would be and how, when we were younger, we’d run to catch a seat (especially at the back so we could make funny faces at folks driving behind our bus (I know I know – not the right role model huh?)) But how we’d just stand when we were older – for we were then too cool to run to catch a seat.

That was when I remembered that I usually had a seat waiting for me. I was probably in grade nine or ten, and one little girl probably in grade four or five was very fond of me. She would hold a seat for me everyday. I remembered her head sticking out of the window, shouting out telling me she had a seat for me. I laughed when I remembered how she initially would hold a three-seater seat. But soon realized that my friend would sit next to me and my friend and I would chat the whole time. That was when she started holding a two-seater seat so I would chat only with her - my little friend.

“Did you chat with only her?” questioned my daughter. “From time to time,” I said “my friend would stand next to me, plonk her satchel on my lap and we would chat too”. And we went on to talk about the school bus she will take next year.

Some days later, as she got into the car, she said to me, “You could have treated that bus girl nicer, you know. You could have given her a little more attention.” My face drew a blank – then I remembered the story. My eyes grew wide. My daughter still remembered the story. I felt like I had to defend myself. I don’t know about you parents, but I sometimes sense disapproval coming from my daughter and I feel as if I have to defend myself and win approval in her eight-year-old eyes. Sigh… only our generation of parents, I believe.

“Well, I wasn’t mean to her or anything,” I said sticking up for myself. “I did chat with her. But my friend and I had more things to talk about, I suppose” I continued somewhat sheepishly by now.

Yes, I was in a spot. My eight-year old strongly disapproved of the treatment I had doled out to someone years ago.  And sheepish as I was, I felt oddly proud of her. For her little heart went out to the little girl holding the seat for me every day and was looking for justice in that story.  And truly, I wasn’t a mean girl in school. This is just great. Now I’m defending myself to you guys too. But really, I wasn’t mean and I avoided drama. Sigh… who will believe me now…

“Were you like very popular?” she questioned somewhat menacingly now. “No, I wasn’t” I replied quickly. “I would be involved in a lot of things, and people knew who I was, but I wasn’t very popular or anything like that – I was just normal,” still trying hard to wipe off any mean girl images of me from her head.  

“When you’re a teenager, you kind of live in your own world. You don’t always notice things and people around, you see. But you’re right, I could have chatted with her more than I did.” And in that moment I really wished I had.

The Spanish inquisition had ended. I had emerged with uncertain approval ratings and I knew I had to live with it. I couldn’t help wondering how many people we hurt in our lives by not reciprocating their level of attention and affection. And teenager or not, we continue to be wrapped up in our own worlds.

I suppose my daughter, in her lifetime, will meet (or has already met) her share of mean girls (or should we simply call them self-absorbed – mean seems tad harsh). I hope she will navigate through them better than I have been able to. And I feel reassured in knowing that she will probably not be one of them.