The Silent Witness: A Teacher’s Role in Ending Bullying

In fifth grade, she had a tormentor. Every day, he found a new way to break her down, and our teacher either ignored it or silently encouraged it.

His favorite trick was cruel in its simplicity. He would pour water onto his chair, then raise his hand, all wide-eyed innocence, and say, She did it. Without fail, the teacher would turn to me, sigh, and send us both into the hallway to “work it out.”

But there was no working it out. The moment they were alone, he unleashed his anger. He would tower over her, his voice a low, venomous hiss at first—then louder, crueler.

“You’re worthless.”

“No one likes you.”

Expletive. Another expletive. Then another.

She wanted to fight back, to scream, to defend myself. But she didn’t. Instead, she escaped the only way she could—by leaving her body, drifting somewhere far away where his words couldn’t reach me.

Day after day, it happened. And each time, it felt worse, as if his words were burrowing deeper into her skin, carving out pieces of her she’d never get back.

Then, one day, something changed.

A teacher—one who saw what others didn’t—came walking down the hall. She was like a superhero in that moment, her presence cutting through the storm she had been weathering alone. She stepped in, listened, and finally, finally put an end to it.

She didn’t know how long it took before the torment stopped. She only know the relief of it being over.

Even now, all these years later, she still remembers the boy. The teacher who didn’t see. And the one who finally did.