Words Hurt

"Sticks and stones may break your bones, but words can never hurt you."

Parents teach children that age-old adage, offering a vain attempt to help them walk school halls tall, to mentally battle bullies dogging their steps and ignore taunting peers who seem to be an unavoidable part of growing up. Maybe Chris Joyner received the same advice. Maybe Friday afternoon, he finally quit believing it.

Even as it pierces the heart, the Zebulon Middle teen's apparent suicide should be a slap in the face. When placing blame, don't automatically point a finger at campus officials but focus on the real source of the problem. There were antagonizing children involved who opted to feel better about themselves by making Joyner feel worse about himself.

In this case, kids will be kids is no excuse -- because kids can be downright merciless. Maybe they wouldn't let him alone, ironically leaving him so very alone.

In the shadow of his untimely death, stories have come to light about Joyner being repeatedly picked on or even abused by classmates. Probably due to the fact that he was smaller than average and was nicknamed "Inches," possibly linked to how he looked a little different than most.

But, inside, he was the same.

Everyone has dealt with verbal exchanges that either inspire a gallery of peers to laugh with you or laugh at you. The comfortable spot, of course, is on the giving end, not receiving.

Yet it's a situation of back and forth, as long as both parties are ready to handle it. Joyner wasn't.

In the code of human decency, he should've been off limits. What separates fun-loving jokes from someone's nightmare is knowing when to call a halt to name calling. If the subject balls up his fist in anger, he's had enough. If he cringes when a voice sounds in his direction, he's had enough. If he bows his head when you approach him, he's had enough. If he sits isolated at a table in an otherwise crowded lunchroom, he's had enough. If he sheds a single tear, he's had enough.

And if he spends the day threatening to hang himself with a jump rope in the boys locker room, he's definitely had enough.

There's speculation Joyner should have fled to his teachers or his principal for protection. But he may have feared retreating to an authority figure would draw a greater wrath, since it could label him a "tattletale" or a "crybaby" among classmates.

Joyner followed the sad schoolyard code of conduct, suggesting he sought to avoid trouble -- for everyone. He didn't snitch. He held his tongue, when all he ever wanted to do was fit in. Joyner wished his peers would welcome him by merely accepting him for who he was.

Yes, he needed help -- though not just an adult telling his tormentors to shut up, but from classmates stepping up to defend him. Whether it be a youngster once filling his shoes or a member of the "cool clique" pouring on the punishment, Joyner's knight in shining armor had to be one of his own kind.

Or at least someone close who acted kind.

There were danger signs prior to Joyner's tragic end.

If the youngsters teasing him recognized the jagged edge, they could have politely reconciled. A pat on his shoulder, a smile, any positive word could have repaired years of damage, rather than driving him to extremes.

So would it have pained those kids to say they were sorry?

Could it have saved Chris Joyner's life instead?