The day before Halloween, I picked up my son and one of his friends from the last outdoor soccer practice. Soon, the clock would go back to standard time, and we’d lose an hour of sunlight in the evening. Driving west-ward, I saw the pumpkin colored sunset change to gray. And then I could no longer make out of the shapes of trees on the sides of the road. In turn, street lights became brighter.
The boys were chatty in the back. They must’ve had a good practice. They were talking about HIB. I tried to remember what it stands for. H is for Harassment. What does ‘I’ stand for? Interference? Instigation? Incitement?
“What is ‘I’ in HIB?” I asked, and they answered in unison, “Intimidation!” “Oh right. I can’t think of any word for B either.” “Mom, it’s B for bullying,” my son responded in a familiar tone that meant “How many times do I have to tell you this!?”
“So, we had an assembly today,” his friend went back to his story, “and the guy told us that even if you wanted to do a high-five, and missed your friend’s hand and ended up hitting your friend, that’s HIB.” “What?” my son couldn’t believe it. I laughed out loud and then realized I shouldn’t have. Trying to suppress my laughter, tears came out, blurring the street lights. “Was that a joke?” I asked. “No, he was dead serious,” the boy was sure about it.
Back at home, I mentioned this to my husband. “Mom did it in Tokyo” he told my son. “Did Mom hit someone?” my son sounded excited. “Yeah, on the subway,” my husband nodded with a knowing smile.
I had forgotten about that incident. I was young and working long hours in Tokyo. I was so exhausted that I fell asleep standing on the subway on my way to work. I was holding on to a hand strap in order to secure myself where I was. But as I slipped into dreams, my hand let go of it. I was woken by a slapping sound. Right in front of me was a shiny beautiful bold head. Looking at my hand that turned red, it took a couple of seconds for me to understand what I had done. The man’s head had a maple leaf shaped print in red.
“I’m so sorry!” I shouted in a low voice and the man nodded silently, keeping his eyes on the book he was holding. Every time I remember this incident, I can’t help wondering how he managed to keep his composure. He was calm and forgiving. I was saved by his grace. I learned an important lesson from this man: to forgive is to save someone.
My children are growing up with the internet and use so many apps for socialization that I don’t know what is what. But I understand that those apps provide new ways to commit HIB. So, I agree that the students need to be aware of the potential impacts of their internet behaviors, intentional or unintentional.
But if two kids want to do a high-five, and one kid inadvertently hits the other, don’t they want to go through the old-fashioned “say sorry and forgive” steps, and then move on? High fives take two people, and each knows the other’s good intention. You don’t want to hurt anyone or get hurt. But hey, accidents happen. That’s a fact of life.
When I was in middle school, there was a boy that I enjoyed playing pranks on. Hirai-kun was his name. He was smart, short and silly. In early winter, snow covered the school ground, and I saw an opportunity. I took a broom out and wrote a message for him, and then asked him to read it from the third floor. I don’t remember what I wrote, but I can say for sure it wasn’t a nice message.
Then, one day I found a little tatami room on the first floor of the school building. It was probably a place for a custodian to rest. So, I got an idea; I hanged a big doll (where did I get it from?) right behind the door, and then told Hirai-kun that a teacher was waiting for him in that room. He looked already scared with the prospect of facing the teacher alone. Later I asked him, “Did you go there?” I couldn’t wait to hear it. Then, he told me: he opened the door and was startled by the doll. It was a success! I jumped a bit for joy. But the story didn’t end there. While Hirai-kun was there, the tallest and most feared teacher in school happened to be making his rounds in order to prevent any shenanigans from happening after the last bell rang. And he caught Hirai-kun walking into the tatami room and surprised by the doll.
He didn’t tell the teacher, whose last name was also Hirai (Hirai sensei), of my involvement. I apologized to Hirai-kun, and he forgave me. Then, we went back to making jokes again.
I wonder, if I’d be punished if I did the same in my son’s middle school. Does it constitute HIB? Maybe it was harassment. He was scared, so it could be considered intimidation? I didn’t mean to bully him, but he got the worst of it, while I was protected by his decency. It wasn’t fair to Hirai-kun, to say the least. But he chose to be kind and saved our friendship.
I think it’s ironic if teaching the students how to avoid committing HIB makes them less kind, forgiving, and tolerant of each other. What kind of society will they have in twenty years, if everyone is scared to give each other high-fives, let alone a low-five like the one I gave the Japanese gentleman on the subway?
Let’s hope that the pendulum will swing back to a place where kids can celebrate with high-fives and without worrying about a potential HIB.
I wish you all a joyous holiday season and enduring friendships with kindness in 2020 and beyond!