My daughter asked me to transfer her to another school. No tears. No shouting. No fuss.
She casually approached me while I was packing my bag for work and quietly asked, Dad can I change schools?
I hit the brakes. I asked if something had happened. She replied no. I inquired if she had friends there. She shrugged, unsure. I pressed further, asking if anyone was treating her poorly. She stayed silent.
That night, I struggled to sleep. The next day, I concocted a reason to visit the school. I told them I needed to chat with the headteacher, but really, I just wanted to see what was going on.
I stood in the corridor, biding my time until break. And then I spotted her. There she was, hunched over by the fence with a thermos in her hands, clearly trying to blend in.
A group of girls swept past, giggling and nudging each other. One cheeky boy splashed juice on her blouse and ran off. One of the girls sneakily snapped a photo of her and shared it with the others, setting off another round of laughter. And my daughter did nothing. She simply kept her lips sealed, as if she were used to it. But what stung the most was that there were no children her age around; they were all adults.
A teacher strolled by. She glanced at my daughter and moved on, focusing on others instead. It was as if my girl was invisible.
When I returned home, I drafted a letter to the school. I laid out everything she had told me: about her notebooks being hidden, the bullying in the corridors, and the mockery of her pictures in their group chat on WhatsApp.
A quick response came back: Dont worry, its just kids being kids. Well handle it. But they didnt do anything.
That evening, she quietly asked me, Did you think about it, Dad? I nodded. And I promised her shed never have to go back there. She didnt ask why, just dropped her bag in the corner and took a deep breath, like someone finally shedding a burden theyd been carrying for too long.
Shes off to a new school today. Not bigger. Not shinier. Just more welcoming.
Here, they look her in the eye. They call her by her name. She doesnt have to shrink herself to avoid being hurt. Children dont ask to change schools on a whim. They ask when theyre out of strength.
The hardest part isnt what the other kids do, but what the adults who should be protecting her fail to do. Lets not ignore the subtle signals from our children. Behind a simple I dont want to go back can lie loneliness, fear, and feelings of rejection.
Lets give them the space to express themselves. And lets have the courage to listen and take action. Sometimes, the loudest cries from our kids come through as whispers. Lets not wait until its too late. We need to observe, listen, and respond because every child deserves safety and care.
