Ammon News - By: Heba Karbek

Today, our school classrooms were filled with hushed whispers and shocked faces. The terrible news from Zarqa spread like wildfire; a child had been burned by two students from his own school. My stomach tightened as I imagined the unbearable pain he must have felt and the horror he lived. I looked around at my classmates, could something like this happen here? Are there warnings all around us that we’re ignoring?

I remember a girl I used to know. Her name was Reem. She had the softest voice, as if she was afraid to be heard, and a nervous habit of pulling on the sleeves of her sweater. At first, the other kids would just tease her lightly, mocking the way she spoke, laughing at her answers in class. She told her parents, hoping they would help, but they only sighed and said, “Ignore them, and they’ll stop.” But they didn’t stop. The teasing turned into cruel jokes, then into shoving in the hallways and whispering about her behind her back. Leen’s shoulders started to slump, her voice became even quieter, and soon, she stopped answering in class altogether. It was as if the bullies had erased her. Now, when I see her, she barely makes eye contact, her eyes always darting to the ground. The girl who once had dreams of being a lawyer now seems too afraid to speak.

Then there’s Omar, a boy in my old school. Omar used to be cheerful, always joking and laughing, but the bullies never left him alone. They tripped him in the hallways, took his lunch, and called him names every time they passed by. The teachers noticed, but all they ever said was, “Ignore them, and they’ll stop. .” But how could he ignore them when every day felt like a battle? One afternoon, something inside him snapped. When one of the bullies shoved him during recess, Omar turned around and fought back. A real fight broke out, punches, shouting, and then, blood. I’ll never forget the look in Omar’s eyes that day. It wasn’t just anger, it was years of built-up pain, finally exploding. The teachers only took action after that, but it was too late. Omar wasn’t the same anymore. The boy who once laughed at every joke now sat at the back of the classroom, fists clenched, eyes filled with quiet rage.

And then there was Rami. He wasn’t like Reem, who tried to disappear, or Omar, who fought back. Rami just took it. Every push, every cruel word, every humiliating prank, they chipped away at him, piece by piece. They stole his homework, poured water on his seat, locked him in the bathroom during break. He laughed it off at first, pretending it didn’t bother him. But I saw the way his hands trembled when he thought no one was looking.Then one day, he just stopped showing up.

At first, they joked about it, but as the days passed, the laughter faded. The truth hit harder than any slap in the hallway, Rami quit school, not just this one, but any school. He never went back.

So why do we wait until things go too far? Why do adults brush off bullying like it’s nothing, telling kids to “just ignore it” instead of protecting them? Why do teachers wait until there’s damage before they step in? Parents need to teach their children to be kind, not cruel, and they need to listen when their kids say they’re being hurt. Schools must stop acting like bullying is just a part of growing up, it’s not. And we, as students, have a responsibility too. If we see someone being bullied, we can’t just look away.

Ignoring bullying doesn’t make it disappear, it makes it stronger. And if we don’t stop it, one day, it might be beyond repair.

*Heba Karbek - Grade 7