By Phoebe Farag Mikhail

Dear teacher: My Wanda will not come to your school anymore. Jake also. Now we move away to big city. No more holler Polack. No more ask why funny name. Plenty of funny names in the big city. Yours truly, Jan Petronski.

I recently did a “book club” with my daughter and her friend. We chose to read the Newberry classic, The Hundred Dresses, by Eleanor Estes. At age five, my daughter was already getting comments about her (absolutely beautiful) curly hair from classmates with straight, “flowy” hair. While it’s hurtful, my daughter also has plenty of friends in her class, and with her strong personality, she has the potential to lead with kindness, or to turn around and be cruel to others. I want to make sure she leads with kindness. So this book was a perfect way to address the topic. 

In the story, we already know that Wanda Petronski has stopped going to school. We read it mostly from the point of view of Maddie, a girl who was best friends with Peggy. Peggy was the leader of the pack that mercilessly mocked Wanda, and Maddie is conflicted – she wants to stop Peggy, but she doesn’t want to be her target, either. While turning around the idea of losing Peggy as a friend, Maddie even “others” Wanda – why would she say she has a hundred dresses when she only comes to school with one? Plus, she lives in that poor part of town, next door to the strange man everyone is afraid of. When Maddie’s teacher reads that letter from Wanda’s dad to the class, she and Peggy finally realize they are one of the reasons the family left their town. They resolve to write Wanda a letter, and though the letter is kind and warm, they never apologize for what they did.

It reminded me of the time I moved to a new state. In my old junior high school, a particular girl in my class was a ringleader who often bullied me – unless she found another target. Then I was safe for a while. When I moved away, she sent me a letter, sharing some news, and she included a pair of earrings, in the shape of white flowers. In the letter she never once apologized for the number of times she and her friends made school torture for me. I was surprised at the kindness of this letter from someone who was rarely kind to me at school, but I never responded. I might have thrown away the earrings, too.

Perhaps if I had responded, I would have gotten an apology. When I think about it now, as an adult, I can see that she might have been reaching out in guilt, and that perhaps an honest response from me might have gotten some reconciliation. But I was twelve years old, in a different state and off to a new start, not nearly mature enough for that. Thankfully, there was no social media trail of connections to keep me bound to these kids. I could leave it all behind.

Wanda’s story has a different ending than this (I won’t spoil it for you). But it sparks those conversations – how our words can truly affect people, not always in a good way. How it’s not easy to stand up to bullies, even if we want to. Sometimes the bully is our friend, and we fear losing that friend. Sometimes we fear becoming the victim. Sometimes we want to make amends, but fear the vulnerability of asking forgiveness. In all cases, it is fear preventing us from doing the right thing.

I recently listened to an interesting On Being podcast conversation between Krista Tippet and Brene Brown during which fear came up repeatedly. “I think we are our very worst selves in fear,” Brown said. “We are the most dangerous to ourselves and to each other, and even to the people we love, when we’re in fear.”

Fear can be a useful emotion when it helps to preserve us from bodily harm. I certainly have a healthy fear of bees and wild animals. For the most part, however, fear often serves to paralyze us from being vulnerable with each other, the building block of true friendship and community. More than once I’ve felt the pain of being the brunt of fear masquerading as anger, from friends whose fear of being vulnerable was, at the time, greater than their desire for experiencing love. I could allow those experiences to live in my own fear, or I can decide to continue to be open, even if I risk future pain.

Perhaps, if she had spoken up, Maddie might have lost Peggy’s friendship. My daughter pointed out that maybe Wanda would have been her friend instead. Perhaps Maddie was not the only student uncomfortable with the way Peggy persistently made fun of Wanda, and by standing up to her, others might have also followed suit. But there is a strong possibility that Maddie might have had to stand up alone, that none of her classmates might have joined her, and that it might not have resulted in a friendship with Wanda. Adults fear these kinds of consequences, and yet we expect children to have more courage than we do.

How does one face that consequence of being alone? I have learned that trying to cultivate an “inner life,” where I don’t fear being alone, but can embrace it, is helpful. As I have learned from reading about the Desert Fathers and Mothers, in the most ultimate paradox, that inner life is a life in communion with God. A life in communion with God is a life that might leave you alone sometimes, but is a life that is never lonely.

In the Bible, the words “fear not” or “do not be afraid” often precede requests from God to do something with great risk of being alone. At the Annunciation, the angel tells Mary “Do not fear” when she conceived the Son of God, at great risk of being pregnant in a society that shuns unwed pregnant women (Luke 1:30). With that risk was great reward, as she became  the Mother of God. At the Resurrection, He tells the women who witnessed it,  “Do not be afraid. Go and tell My brethren to go to Galilee, and there they will see Me.” To bear witness to the resurrection of One who had been publicly executed three days prior was a great risk—but with that risk was great reward, because they had their Savior with them again.

Standing up for justice, defending the powerless, acting with integrity – these are not easy things for adults to do.  These are not easy things to ask our children to do unless they know that no matter how alone they might feel at the time, they are never alone. When they stand up for what is right and risk losing their friends or their social status at school, that risk is real, and so they must know that they are not alone. They might have us, but more importantly, they have God on their side. “Fear not, for I am with you; Be not dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you, Yes, I will help you, I will uphold you with My righteous right hand.” (Isaiah 41:10)

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