Bullying is unacceptable and is taken very seriously by everyone at Belmont. In addition to our regular PHSE lessons, each November the school takes part in Anti-Bullying Week. If your child is being bullied at school, the school has policies and procedures in place to support you. If you think your child is being bullied, please come and talk to Mr Davidson or the class teacher.
Top tips for parents from the Anti-Bullying Alliance website:
ANTI-BULLYING WEEK 2016
This year, anti-bullying week took place between 14 - 18 November. The theme was 'Power for Good' with the following key aims:
ANTI-BULLYING WEEK 2015
The key aim of anti-bullying week this year was to empower children to make a noise about bullying - whether this may be online, offline, happening to them or someone else. We encourage children to talk to us so that school is felt to be a safe place to discuss bullying and other issues that affect their lives and where children are supported to report all forms of bullying. The School Council organised a competition to write a song or poem about anti-bullying which was won by Demi (Y6) and Justas (Y2), which you can see below. The children in Y5 have also written poems which can be found on the poetry blog.
ANTI-BULLYING WEEK 2014
During Anti-Bullying Week, we all talked about why people bully and what we can do if it happens. Year 6 also wrote stories from the view point of someone who bullies or someone who is being bullied for their Big Write. You can read two of them below and also listen to them on BelmontFM.
STOP IT, THAT HURTS - By Josephine
I can sense my head bleeding and pounding like my heart at this moment. I look into her eyes but only evil stares back at me. In the darkness I can hardly make out her face, but I know it's her. I then hear footsteps, it's her gang. I know because I can see two other gleaming sets of eyes in the darkness. They come up to me and rip my hair out. I'm screaming but no sound is coming out; I'm all alone. Worthless. She gets her long finger nails and scratches all the way down my face. I try to fight back but it's no use, there's three of them and one of me. I'm stranded, I give up, let them win. They get make-up and spread it across my face; it sticks to my knotted hair. She picks me up and drags me by my collar, opens the door and throws me out. I would stand up but I can't. Eventually I find the energy to lift myself back up. I hold on to the railing that leads to the Hall.
I walk into the dark and empty room only it's not dark or empty; it's full of parents waiting to see our play. I fling myself on stage but it's my line now. I don't know what to do. My eyes start to fill up with tears. I need to tell someone. I look for a kind face in the crowd but I can't find it. My head hurts, I fall to the ground; blackout.
YOU'LL NEVER TELL - By Bryony
I stormed over to the mouse of a girl. I raged like a lethargic mastiff, just woken up from its slumber. The girl had long, smooth hair like ebony wood and skin like alabaster. In fact, she was the spitting image of Snow White. What a great insult that would make. I now loomed over the girl like a magnificent dragon, sly and majestically powerful with my head of flaming copper hair. Suddenly she turned. I noticed her eyes, big sparkling peridots, full of innocence and will. I now felt like a coward, picking on her, but I couldn't stop now I was standing over her.
I started hurling insults at her flashing eyes and petite face. I then felt as if my shadow grew deeper and darker, creeping into the only innocence I had, eating it up. Her face remained as ravishingly beautiful as before for no tears rolled down her cheeks. I threw my best criticism at her, yet to no avail. She still looked on. Then I saw what kept her strong. Something I have never had. Friends. They thundered towards me, a gargantuan army of tiny bodies and faces. I then saw their leader, Miss Rosa, the kindest teacher of all. Her hands, small and soft like a petal, gently clasped my own hand.
I remember the day she spoke to me. Her voice like the silver bell of heaven itself. Even now I remember what I had said to the poor girl. I remember saying she'd never tell but of course she didn't need to. Her friends had helped her. That was the one and only thing I had never experienced. Hatred, sadness, fear, love, heavy heartedness, pride, all of these things I have felt. But never friendship.
I know that the little Snow White remembers too. She has forgiven me, but not forgotten what happened that day long ago. It rings in my soul, a bell, black like the shadow I cast on her magnificent purity. It pains me when it chimes. A memory of what pureness my heart has lost.