When Recess Stops Being Safe: What Bullying at Colegio La Salle de Lima Taught Our Family
The car door closed with a soft thud, but Mateo didn’t jump out the way he usually did. He sat there, backpack on his lap, staring at the school gates. It was the third week of second grade at Colegio La Salle de Lima, and the novelty had worn off. I assumed it was the early morning drizzle or the math test I knew he had that morning. I told him to hurry, that he’d be late, and gave his shoulder a gentle push. He walked toward the gate without looking back, his small frame swallowed by the group of boys in matching navy sweaters.
It wasn’t until Saturday, during a quiet moment at lunch, that the real picture started to surface. He was pushing his rice around the plate, and out of nowhere he said, “Papa, is it true that my shoes are fake?”
I looked down. He was wearing the black school shoes we’d bought from a store in Gamarra because the official bookstore was sold out. They looked fine to me. I asked where he’d heard that. He shrugged and said that Diego had told him his shoes were from the market, that his family didn’t have enough money, and that he should go back to his old school. My wife and I looked at each other. This wasn’t a one-off comment. It was a calculated hit, and it had been going on for weeks.
The Subtle Ways Bullying Shows Up
What struck me was how invisible it had been. There were no bruises, no scratched arms, no tears at pickup. Just a gradual change in his mood. He didn’t want to go to school on Mondays. He started asking to be driven even though the school bus stopped right outside our building. He stopped talking about the kids in his class, referring instead to “some boys” in the patio.
At Colegio La Salle, like at many schools in Lima, the culture is often one of academic pressure and discipline. The brothers and teachers run a tight ship. But bullying doesn’t always look like an older kid stealing lunch money in the hallway. Sometimes, it’s a group of seven-year-olds deciding that one boy’s shoes are a reason to push him out of the friend circle. It’s happening in plain sight — in the yard during recess, in the corner of the cafeteria — and because there’s no physical violence, adults often miss it.
What We Did First (and Why It Mattered)
We didn’t call the school right away. We tried to handle it at home first. I told Mateo, “Look, your shoes are from a good store. Diego is being unkind. But you can ignore him.” That was a mistake. He had been ignoring him for weeks, and it hadn’t stopped. Telling a seven-year-old to ignore a bully is like telling him to hold his breath underwater. He needed specific tools, not a pep talk.
We started with small, practical changes at home. My wife and I role-played with him. We set up a little scenario at our dining table. She pretended to be Diego, and she said, “Those shoes are from the market.” She coached Mateo to look directly at her and say, “That’s a weird thing to say,” and then walk away. Not a clever comeback. Just a calm, neutral statement. We practiced it until it felt natural. We also changed his morning routine. Instead of being rushed and arriving just as the bell rang, he started arriving ten minutes early and going straight to the library to read a book with a friend from his soccer class. It gave him a safe, supervised place to start the day.
Partnering With the School (The Right Way)
When we finally did speak to the school, we were nervous. We didn’t want to be those parents who complain about every little squabble. And to be honest, the first conversation with his tutor, Miss Carla, was frustrating. She smiled and said, “They’re just being kids. Boys are like that. We’ll keep an eye on it.” That wasn’t enough, and I wish we had known that a more direct approach would have worked better.
What finally worked was changing how we framed the problem. Instead of saying, “Mateo is being bullied,” which made the teacher defensive, we said, “Something happens in the patio during breaktime that makes Mateo feel unsafe. Can we set up a plan to help him and Diego navigate this?”
That shift in language made all the difference. La Salle de Lima has a pastoral team, and the school counselor got involved. They didn’t just talk to Diego; they talked to his parents, and they reshaped the recess groups. They introduced a “circle time” once a week in the classroom where kids talk about feelings and friendship. It felt slow. For two weeks, Mateo still came home restless. But the situation didn’t escalate, and that was a small victory.
What Actually Helps in Daily Life
If you’re going through something similar, there are a few things I’d pass along that we learned the hard way.
First, ask better questions than “How was school?” That question gets you nothing but a grunt. Ask, “Who did you sit with at lunch?” or “What did you do outside during breaktime?” These are less direct, but they give you clues about the social dynamics of the classroom.
Second, talk to other parents. We weren’t the only family dealing with this. There was a WhatsApp group for our grade, and one day another mom posted about a similar issue with a different child. We started carpooling with a classmate who lives two blocks away. That simple change meant Mateo walked into class with a buddy, not alone. Bullies are lazy; they look for the kid who is isolated. Taking away that loneliness solves a lot.
Third, build a “stockpile” of one-line responses. Kids get tongue-tied when they’re insulted. Teach them a boring, uninteresting reply. “Okay.” “Not true.” “Why do you care?” These don’t escalate the situation, but they show the bully that the words don’t have power. It doesn’t work immediately, but it beats crying, which only fuels the cycle.
Finally, don’t be afraid to be specific with the school. Don’t say, “He’s being teased.” Say, “On Tuesday, during the second break, Diego said X in front of three other kids.” Specific names and times force the school to take action. Most teachers are overworked and genuinely don’t see everything. Handing them a clear report helps them do their job.
Where We Are Now
It’s been about two months since the shoe incident. Mateo is going back to school with a little less hesitation, though he still asks questions about Diego from time to time. Diego has actually become less aggressive now that his comments are met with a shrug. Formal reporting the situation has helped, but what helped most was building small daily wins at home — the carpool, the library visits, the rehearsed lines.
Our family still watches him closely. Bullying is a strange thing; it doesn’t always disappear. It shifts, changes shape, and sometimes hides. But we’ve learned that we can’t just tell our son to be brave. We have to walk beside him and hand him the right tools along the way. That part of parenting never stops.
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