When Mean Girls Grow Up

There are some mean girls in my daughter’s class. Little girls with big attitudes who have been over indulged and have a sense of entitlement that should embarrass their parents. But the parents are not embarrassed because their daughters are only mimicking their mothers. They watch and learn. The comments, the gestures and the tone of voice all carbon copies of mom. I would really like to give them the benefit of the doubt. I would like to draw a distinction of some sort. I would like to say that they aren’t mean girls, spoiled maybe, but not mean.

But I can’t and I won’t because they are mean. They learned long ago how to exclude others and how to sneer at those that don’t meet whatever superficial criteria they have created.  I am at the school frequently and I see them on the yard. I have volunteered inside the classroom and seen them there too. I see them. I watch and take notes of who I don’t want my daughter to play with. I am judgmental and intolerant of this. I don’t care if you drive a Range Rover or a Mercedes. Your money means nothing to me and in many cases it is not yours.

I know because I have been a part of the community for years. I know that grandpa is funding things. You should be proud. You are a thirty something housewife who hasn’t ever worked and you have managed to use your money to buy some influence. It is the downside of attending private school and fortunately you are a minority. A very small minority to be precise, but your sense of entitlement doesn’t allow you to sit back and watch. You volunteer and are active too but that is because you want to feel important.

Being a part of the school is important and the parents play a vital role. But there is something to be said for being a nice person. I can’t help but wonder if you were a mean girl who grew up to be a mean woman. Last week I ruffled feathers because I sent out an email calling some of you on the carpet for behavior that I found to be intolerable. I am not bothered by confrontation. Your money doesn’t mean anything to me and frankly my children don’t play with yours. If they did I might have been more careful because my children don’t need to suffer because of my issues.

But that is not the case here. I almost feel badly for you and your mean girls collective. Someone forgot to tell you that email provides a nice paper trail. Someone forgot to teach you how to blind carbon copy or BCC others. Someone forgot to tell you speaking about others on campus isn’t smart. I don’t need magic powers to hear your words, not when I am standing around the corner.

I sent that email expecting to be forwarded. I intentionally copied everyone because I am documenting your nonsense. If it was possible to ignore you I would have, but you know that in this case it wasn’t. And now you know that I am not kidding when I say that I removed the filters from my mouth.  Someone needed to tell you that you are mistreating others. Someone needed to hold you accountable. I am not a hero. I am not noble. I am just the curmudgeon of the class. You didn’t know that before, but now you do.