Please Stop Laughing at Me 3

Blanco's parents are great. They listen to Jodee. I get loopy around blood. I even get loopy around the idea of blood. So, of course it is possible that I get loopy at the idea of being bullied or crying during middle school. It is sad! I do not know how I would deal with my children like Jodee's parents did. My mom hates seeing me cry. Jodee's parents probably hated seeing her come home every day crying because everyone was mean to her, or even seeing it for themselves through evidence of scars or her destroyed personal property.
The saddest part is when she starts to hide those scars. She thought she was doing her parents a favor because she knows all they want is to see her happy and with friends fitting in. I would hate to see my child come home everyday crying. But then, finding out all a long they were just hiding it instead of coming home crying everyday, I think I would be even more upset.
I think the best thing they do is get her professional help. Although Jodee is scared out of her mind about going to the doctor, and stubborn as hell, I think that it is more for her parents. It is for their own satisfaction and reassurance as parents that they are doing the right things, which are anything and everything. No, it is not selfish that they are doing this so they can understand what is wrong with her. At the same time, Jodee is going to be told why she is given such a hard time.
But, I bet she is going to say, “Nobody understands me, I am just different.” And, of course a doctor won’t take that for an answer and he will come up with some diagnosis, which Jodee’s doctor does.

Please Stop Laughing at Me 2

I strongly admire Blanco's attraction to the underdog, and constant will to defend it like in her speech her first day of freshman year. My mom told me that this book was about school bullying. Why does she always suggest I read the saddest books?
Jodee's story is only intensifying. Except, I am noticing that things were always bad. She started off good in fourth grade with everyone, then again at the new school she had to transfer to, but why did she always have to start over? Because her parents were letting her run away. Reading about what these kids did to her though like physically made it understandable.
What if your child was in that situation? Would you tell them to basically grow a pair and learn to toughen up, even defend yourself if necessary? I honestly don't know. The sad thing is I never really had those problems with girls. My sister did, but I didn't. All that crying freshman year was me, all me. I was not rejected, let alone did I even give myself a chance to be. I was so quiet. I remember sitting with some sophomores I had known from lacrosse. They did not tell me I should not eat my lunch. Hell, they actually bought school lunch and ate every thing on those plastic trays. I was the one that told myself I should throw away my plump brown bag. The sades part was at the end of the day, my mom would ask me how my lunch was or if I got the note she packed. What did I say? Great. Yes. How would I even know? I never ate did. I hope Jodee never gets to the point where she lies to her parents about stuff like that, but I can only assume she will.

Please Stop Laughing at Me 1

"Please Stop Laughing at Me" by Jodee Blanco, 2003.

I remember watching my mom read this book about 5 years ago. I remember her telling me to read it about 2 years ago. And now I finally am. I have never been ashamed to admit that I judge a book by its cover, so of course it was no different in this case. "Please Stop Laughing at Me," has the bland cover of a girl sitting in the lower left hand corner loosely text wrapped by the title and remarks from well renowned readers. I could not help but wonder if the girl on the cover would be Jodee, the girl in the book that the author used to be.
The first chapter ends transitioning into Blanco recalling her first day of her freshman year of high school. At the end of the first chapter where the transition has just begun with the words “first day of my freshman year of high school,” I can’t help but remember my own. What made her first day so different than any one elses?
God, how did I ever get out of the car that day? Why did I? I know that everything turned out fine, but that first day would become the first of many to be lonely and lunch- less.
I lost track of Blanco for a minute and reminisced with myself. But I came back to notice that I left her hanging to be bullied on and verbally and physically attacked, something I haven’t ever endured in high school. Maybe her story would be different than mine after all.