Why Are People Such Jerks Sometimes? What Parents Can Teach Kids About Unkind Behavior
Last Tuesday, I leaned against the bike rack outside Lila’s fourth-grade classroom, rain spitting through my broken umbrella, when she trudged toward me, hood pulled tight, kicking a pinecone across the asphalt. Her left rain boot has a slow leak in the toe, so I knew she was already uncomfortable before she opened her mouth. She’d spent all weekend coloring a paper rainforest diorama background she and her best friend Mia planned to finish at recess, and tucked a new tube of glitter glue into her backpack that morning like it was treasure.
Mia bailed. When Lila found her on the playground wall with the new girl and asked when they’d start gluing, Mia rolled her eyes and said, “Ugh, can’t you see we’re talking? Stop being so annoying.”
I handed her the crumpled granola bar I’d stashed in my coat pocket as we walked to the car. She picked all the chocolate chips out first, stared out the window for three blocks, and said it quiet, like she was testing the words: “Why are people such jerks?”
I volunteer in her class every Wednesday for math stations, so I’d seen the same dynamic play out just the week before. Tyler, a quiet kid who spends recess hunting for cool rocks to leave on his teacher Ms. Henderson’s desk, knocked Jake’s multiplication worksheet off his desk as he passed, snickered, and said “oops, loser” loud enough for the whole table to hear. A couple kids laughed, and Jake’s ears turned bright red as he bent to pick it up. Ten minutes later I saw Tyler leaning against the water fountain, wiping his eyes. His mom had texted that morning to say she couldn’t make his evening soccer game, and he’d have to ride home with the coach.
Most of the time, when someone acts like a jerk, it’s not about the person on the receiving end. That’s the first thing I’ve stopped rushing to say when Lila comes home upset, because blurting that out right away dismisses how she feels. First, I just say, “That really stings, huh? I’d be hurt too if I was you.” I don’t tell her to just ignore it, or that Mia didn’t mean it, because the comment stung in the moment, and that hurt is real regardless of why it happened.
Ms. Henderson sends home short, no-jargon tips in her weekly class newsletter, and a few months back she shared three simple questions kids can ask themselves when someone treats them badly. We pulled them up on my phone later that night while folding socks on the couch, and Lila walked through them on her own, no prompting.
First: Do they know how much this mattered to you? Lila decided Mia knew about the diorama, but probably forgot in the rush of impressing the new girl. Second: Is something else going on with them right now? She remembered Mia had been panicking all week about travel soccer tryouts, and the new girl already made the team. Third: Is this how they usually act? No, Lila said. Mia sat with her in the office for an hour when she broke her wrist on the monkey bars last year, and always shares her last cookie when Lila forgets her snack.
That didn’t make the comment okay, Lila said, and I agreed. It just meant it didn’t turn Mia into a terrible person forever, and it didn’t mean Lila did something to deserve it. The next day at recess, Lila walked up and said “You hurt my feelings yesterday,” Mia apologized, and they finished the diorama. It still sits on our kitchen counter, shedding glitter all over the mail.
Ms. Henderson says 90 percent of random unkind outbursts in class don’t come from “bad kids” — they come from kids already carrying something too big to hold, spilling it on whoever is closest. A few years back, she hung a lanyard with a printed “five minute pass” by the classroom door. Any kid can grab it, no questions asked, and sit on the bench outside to breathe, no explanation required when they return. She says office referrals for unkind behavior dropped almost half after she added it.
We stole the idea for our house, and it’s cut down on stupid snappy fights more than any chore chart or rule we’ve ever tried. An index card that says “step away” is taped to the fridge. Anyone — me, Lila, my partner — can hold it up mid-argument or mid-bad mood and get 10 minutes alone, no eye-rolling, no demands to “talk about this right now.” I’ve used it when I’m late for a work deadline and about to snap over a half-eaten cereal bowl on the coffee table. Lila used it two weekends ago, when she was already upset over a bad spelling test and snapped that her cousin couldn’t touch her new Lego set. She came back after 10 minutes, apologized, and showed her cousin how to sort pieces by color. No big dramatic speech required, just a reset.
We talk about grown-up jerks too, because kids see that behavior even when we think they don’t. A few weeks ago at the grocery store, a man in front of us started yelling at the teenage cashier because his $2 coupon wouldn’t scan, called her careless loud enough for the whole line to hear. Her face turned bright red, and he stormed off. When we got up to pay, Lila asked why he had to be such a jerk over two dollars.
I told her most grown-ups don’t have a five minute pass. They carry car trouble, unexpected bills, fights with family around all day, and sometimes spill it on strangers who didn’t do anything. That doesn’t make it okay, I said, and you never owe a stranger your patience to “fix” their bad day. If someone yells at you for no reason, you can walk away, or get another adult to help. That day, Lila pulled the extra lollipop she got at the bank out of her pocket and handed it to the cashier, said “I’m sorry that guy was mean.” The cashier laughed and wiped her eye, said it was the best part of her whole week. It didn’t fix whatever made the man angry, but it fixed that moment a little.
We still run into this every week, just like everyone else. Last Monday, Lila got off the bus and said a seventh grader called her beloved space backpack “babyish” when she walked past his seat. She dropped her bag, got a snack, and said she ran through the three questions. He sits alone every day at recess, she said, and probably has stuff going on, but that still doesn’t make it okay that he made fun of her. She’s not going to go out of her way to be friends with him, but she’s also not throwing out the backpack she loves just because some guy was in a bad mood.
I still catch myself being the jerk sometimes, too. Last week I snapped at a barista when they got my order wrong, because I was running late to a meeting and already stressed about a leaky faucet at home. I apologized before I left, but I still thought about it for the rest of the day. I forget to grab the step away card half the time when I’m twisted up.
No one’s nice all the time. We don’t have a perfect system for every rude person we run into. Most days, it just comes down to two small things: don’t let someone else’s bad day make you think you did something wrong, and don’t take your own bad day out on the person standing closest to you. Some weeks we get it right. Some weeks we don’t. The diorama’s still shedding glitter, and the step away card’s still on the fridge, and that’s enough for now.
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