I guess you could say I was born with a vivid imagination. My first childhood memory was of my mother standing at the backdoor of our home in Oklahoma with my sister, my  brother and me. She showed us our first rainbow. I can remember the rainbow so clearly today. After that  I would twirl and dance around the living room my parents said to the music that was always playing in our home. Also in those early years of two years old to five years old I had three imaginary friends. I played with them and I remember their names yet not what they looked like. Years ago my parents must have found it quite comical for me to chatter on about these friends during the day but today as I reflect upon them I  wonder. Could my imaginary friends have been angels? Maybe one was the man I call Angel  who I met twenty years ago after my daughter passed away. I am sure angels have been with me all my life sparking my imagination and helping me write novels about angels who live as  humans in a town where no one knows the secret. Weaving these stories of angels who guide their flock with hope and love bring me moments of joy and peace.Were my three imaginary friends really angels? I so hope the answer is yes!

 

I first became aware of bullying before 1974 when I was a child and the American With Disabilities Act had not been passed. Children with Special Needs were not allowed in the public school system. As we walked to grade school a girl about twelve I guessed with flaming red hair would ride her bike by our school almost every day as we were about to cross at the crosswalk. I knew she was different and know now after a career in Special Education she had Down’s Syndrome. The kids would laugh and point while calling her names as she drove by our school but I never did. I just stood there always  feeling  sad for her wondering who she was. I  knew it was wrong for the kids to make fun of her.  The girl obviously wanted to belong and go to school like the other kids.

Why do some kids and adults feel the need to bully others? Maybe  bullies do feel shame. Perhaps they feel they don’t belong.  Making others feel that shame too makes them feel better about themselves. So much must be lacking in their lives.  

Over the years, I’ve always wondered what happened to the girl on the bike with the flaming red hair. Sending angels to her in my mind, hoping she’s found peace helps the memory of her.  I hope she’s finding the kindness of others now as an adult. Hopefully the adults who as children taunted her have learned their own lessons of kindness from the angels.

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Lately, I’ve watched the news and tweets with much concern. Name calling is so unhealthy for all our souls and so hurtful for our children to witness.  Whatever happened to a healthy debate? In high school the debate team is never allowed to name call.
We know our children are watching and wondering why so many politicians and grown ups have succumbed to name calling. So what to do? I ask the angels. The thought comes to me that being examples of kindness and respect in our own words to everyone is the only way. Talking to the children about using respectful kind words is key to a happy life for us all. 

Children love and angels. These words are the beautiful words we need to fill our hearts with now. The future of our children, grandchildren, great grandchildren is in our hands. I have committed myself to writing words of love, heartfelt pieces of thought out lovely words and stories in my novels to take the reader to the best place on earth, thinking about love. Blessed are those of us who thwart everyday evil, prejudice and hate. Love is winning. We will ask angels to come to our aide helping us with as many whispers of guiding hope they can find. Love will always win over hate but love needs us all to sail our ships to love’s shoreline.
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Years ago I was interviewing for a job and witnessed a sad example of bullying a student I’ll call Jenette. She was a teenager with a developmental disability in a vocational class. Jenette was shy and timid around her teacher. The teacher seemed to thrive on controlling her students with her loud voice. She yelled at all the students including  Jenette. Jenette would calm herself  by talking out loud. She’d say repeatedly, “I’m okay, it’s okay.”

I’ve never forgotten that example of bullying all these years later. Jenette had found a way to calm herself. But the next year she had a different teacher. I became her teacher and so there was no need to calm herself down for I never once yelled at any of my students. I encouraged Jenette and the others making sure learning vocational skills would be fun.Of course I knew I had angels on my shoulder.  

Oh yes we’ve all been bullied. Recently, I remembered a long ago instance I must have placed in the back corner of my mind. Writing about bullying brought it back. “Look at the baby cry.” That’s what I heard one day in Kindergarten. It’s a memory that makes me ponder now these decades later.

The schoolyards of yesterday seem to be played out by adults in our midst today. Shouldn’t we the grown ups now be the role models of respectful behavior to our children and grandchildren?  What’s happened I think is some adults have lost their way. Some are  playing into the bullies fiery words by matching with their own fire.

So way back in Kindergarten, a lesson was learned that must have brought me to this place of writing books about angels. You see the one who taunted me back then was my Kindergarten teacher. Years later I became a teacher of children with Special Needs. I tried to be a  good role model of how to treat others. If a Kindergartner bullied by her teacher can grow up strong and kind then anybody can. Although I didn’t see them, the angels were at my side.

When I first started teaching Special Education years ago, I learned  a valuable lesson about bullying. For bullying can come from anyone, child or adult. I taught students that were labeled Mentally Retarded but they weren’t retarded at all.These eleven to thirteen year old students were socio-economically deprived. The materials were scarce and I had to use my  creativity and own materials to teach them reading.

The first week I taught reading I would call on them to read. I was shocked when one boy named Michael got up and stuttered with the words. He didn’t normally stutter when he spoke. Some of the kids laughed. I realized then he had been bullied by students or perhaps even a teacher and calling on him to read made him stutter and anxious.

For the rest of my career I always asked first, “Who would like to read?” Michael taught me a very valuable lesson. I learned to respect and honor the students, being sensitive to their needs and character. It was honor to be all my students’ teacher. I was young and inexperienced but an angel must have been on my shoulder.