STRENGTH AND GRACE

There Are Mean Girls Everywhere

A lesson my five-year-old granddaughter and I shared

Author’s image Chat GPT

My five-year-old granddaughter just started summer camp, which means taking a 30-minute bus ride to and fro each day.

It’s her first taste of the daily bus experience, and so far it’s been good. When I asked her to tell me more, her response was simple, but I found it striking:

“There are no mean girls on the bus.”

Remember, she’s only five! Already, she has a consciousness about what mean girls do to an environment.

This had me asking my daughter how many mean girls my granddaughter has encountered. I learned that in her pre-K class, a few girls didn’t include others and liked to tell secrets. It left some feeling excluded and crying, which I suspect the teachers tried to manage. Unfortunately, what happens on the playground oftentimes stays on the playground.

I find it heartbreaking but real. I did some self-talk and reminded myself that part of growing up is building the skills to stay who we are and remove ourselves from ugly influences as much as we can. It comes down to an eleventh commandment in my personal bible.

“Let them be them, and I’ll be me.”

I am sure I somehow conveyed those thoughts to my granddaughter.

As if some divine force were speaking to me, I was playing tennis last week, and a moment resonated in a way that surprised me. I am in a “contract,” which means I’ve committed to weekly play with a set group of players at a set time. Our group has six players, and so on any given day, four of us will play, and two will be rotated out.

Now, I know that people are people — we come in all shapes, sizes, and demeanors — and we don’t like them all equally. Mary is one woman in our contract whom I’ve never favored. Mary played on my club team too, and her partners always found her unpleasant and overbearing.

Back in the day, I would listen to my teammates unload because, like marriage, tennis partnering creates a wash of emotions that need to be scrubbed and understood.

Many of us viewed club tennis as a place to have fun. We knew we weren’t going to be ranked players on the circuit. Still, we could improve our game, form friendships, and feel a sense of unified purpose in representing our club as best we could. Some years were great, and others you couldn’t wait to forget about. That’s amateur club tennis. Attitude is important.

Mary definitely brought attitude— just not the same attitude I brought.

When I left competitive club tennis, it was because the women became more serious, and I became less so. I wanted the fun and camaraderie without the pressure. So instead, I joined a lovely outdoor clay tennis club, and some of the women from my prior team became members there as well.

Mary was one of them.

So there we were, last week, playing in our contract. I was partnered with Mary. Though I wasn’t happy about it, it’s important to believe that you can play with anyone… as long as you’re not playing doubles in a Grand Slam.

On that particular day, Mary and I were ahead in one game, and I had an opportunity to seal the win. Instead, I didn’t hit a ripe put-away shot to end the point, and the ball came back at me. Mary and I eventually lost the game.

That’s when I heard, “You lack the killer instinct.”

Now, Mary might have been right. I think when I played club tennis, I was more invested in the wins and probably exhibited some killer instinct. Now I was invested in the fun and proving to myself that I still had game. I will be 69 this fall, and I run for every ball, which I don’t take for granted.

Maybe Mary was right. Maybe that was the natural evolution of my game and my attitude.

I let the comment drop and thought about it later. This was my sequence of thoughts:

I didn’t join this outdoor club to bring a killer instinct.

Who does Mary think she is, being a judge and commentator on my game?

Why does Mary have such an inflated view of herself on the tennis court?

And then I remembered when, last season, she said to me in what was a “compliment”:

“You bring more game than I thought.”

I could have said, and you bring more mean girl than I remembered, but of course, I didn’t.

I thought about Mary when my granddaughter said she was happy there weren't mean girls on her bus. I realized my message to my granddaughter was to be simple:

Mean girls are a fact of life, and they are there for the duration. The only thing we can control is our reaction to them.

As I administered self-therapy for a strained knee because I did too much running, I also realized that there can be a burden when you need to prove yourself to others. Maybe my running was egged on by playing with Mary. Even if “with” is an overstatement.

In some ways, my knee was protecting me. It gave me an important reminder.

“Let them be them, and I’ll be me.”

I’ve decided to step back and take a meta view on tennis, grandkids, aging knees, and the people I choose to spend time with.

My knees are really important. So is getting on the floor with my grandchildren. I will need to decide whether those goals can also coincide with my three-decade passion for tennis.

For now, tennis is on hold while I nurse my knee back to health. If I were my fictional character, Alfred, who places odds on everything, I’d say there is a 70% chance I’ll be back on court when my knee heals.

I will also remember what my sister told me all my years growing up:

“You take yourself with you wherever you go.”

I am going to take the strong me, who is unaffected by mean girls and who won’t change her style. I will do my best to incorporate kindness and fun, while still running after many balls (down from every ball)… and it will be because I want to, for me.

It’s me being me.

Thanks for reading my story.