Thank You, Mrs. Bayley

We are hearing a lot about bullying these days and for good reason. Kids today, especially gay kids are being bullied to the point of suicide.


I only had one bully in school. Like most victims, at the time I thought the reason he was picking on me was my fault. Now thanks to Dr. Phil I realize it wasn't.

My bully's name was Robert. I had the misfortune of having p.e. with Robert. He was always the  team captain that got stuck with the last pick and that last pick was always me.

I tried desperately to avoid any participation in the games but there were times when neither Robert or I could avoid it. Afterwards he would berate me mercilessly for losing the game. I couldn't shower and change clothes in peace. He just kept haranguing me until the bell rang. The next day it would start all over again. We would dress out, line up, choose sides, I would be picked last and lose the game for Robert.

Thankfully I had chorus immediately following p.e. Our chorus teacher was a beautiful woman named Mrs. Bayley. She always dressed very stylishly and had more shoes than Carrie Bradshaw.

Mrs. Bayley never started class on time. She couldn't because a few of us would gather in her office at the beginning of every period to discuss all the earth shattering  events going on in our lives. Day after day I would tell her how I had lost the game for Robert. I didn't realize at the time what a comfort it was to have someone who cared nothing at all about sports put each days humiliation into perspective for me. We always laughed at how upset Robert would get with me for his team's loss. (I suspect that Robert had failed whatever mandatory music course he took miserably.)


The only time I was successful in p.e. was during a softball game. I was assigned to play right field where  I am sure Robert hoped I would see very little action. We were ahead by one point. A high pop fly (how in the  world do I even remember these sports terms?) came toward me. I did what I always did; cowered in fright with my hands over my face. All of a sudden I heard a mammoth cheer. I looked up expecting the runner to have scored but instead I found the ball nestled in the crook of my arms.


The cheering was for me! And Robert was leading it! I had helped preserve the team's lead just in time for the bell to ring. For a shining moment briefer than Camelot I was Robert's hero.

 

I couldn't wait to get to chorus to tell Mrs. Bayley about my unexpected accomplishment. We found the entire episode hilarious and laughed at Robert for caring.


There was no Trevor project in Carmi, IL in 1970. Teachers didn't attend sensitivity trainings for dealing with gay youth. Mrs. Bayley just had the wisdom to listen to all of us for a few minutes each day before we began singing and the sense to know that intramural sports didn't matter to anyone but guys like Robert. Thank you, Mrs. Bayley!