You just might save his life.
a Hard Truth: be sure you teach him what he needs to know, not just what you think he needs to know; on the other hand, there are many paths to survival.

I wish you great success. You seem like a true friend to him and his family.

Timely. I am currently trying to help a boy I've known since he was a baby. He is getting suicidal, has been bullied terribly. And, he expresses self-sacrifice, altruism and "karma" when he talks of bullies. His dad is never around. Somebody needs to teach this kid how to cope. So...I'm doing it. He's a life-long friend of my son.

nice to hear from you. I miss you :( I was lucky. kinda bullied in elementary but my teachers all loved me. then in HS I just was going to be -well-the center of attention. My junior year, still not popular, but infamous, I ran for class president. kinda like a lark. I won-complete surprise. I think the upshot was the class thought I would give them a good prom

A NY 1970s hippies oldest child, I was taught (vehemently) not to fight. I was bullied frequently throughout my youth (grade school to junior high school) by neighborhood friends (the worst offender literally lived across the street from me) by those who believed I was timid. Literally I came home with a black eye, a bloody noses, and/or bruises and bumps regularly (any day, school day or otherwise). At the time it felt to me as if bullying me was the cost for acceptance in to the group. I learned to accept it. I took solace from being a punching bag by hiding behind my mothers words. Pathetic.

My bullying ended abruptly when I punched John Como, a new guy, in his mouth at the bus stop when he started picking on me at the bus stop. After that all but the worst of the bullies left me alone and I never backed down from a fight.

Bullying ended completely when I moved to Queens NY (late Junior high). I was at a community park playing basketball with my cousins friends, when a punk acted up to intimidate us all and I ended up punching the punk in his mouth, loosening his two front teeth. He wouldn't come in to strike again and we just circled. I got tired, told him this was a waste of time, turned around and walked away. It turned out, unbeknownst to me, that he was THE bully of the park and neighborhood. I was neighborhood hero.. go figure

Several more fights happened in high school (in NY and Arizona). I was never the instigator. I was never the bully. I was never the punching bag. I could always take a punch. I could then hold my own and even dish it out.

The punk across the street never felt my fists. But years later when I ran into him at a party where we were both getting drunk and stoned he shit himself after asking me "What did you do in Arizona?" and I replied "I learned to kick the shit out of people." We never spoke again.

Today- Bullying? Kids are insensitive and cruel. Its always been that way and it always will be. Web Bullying? Unplug the computer.

Standing up is the only end to bullies. Its a personal matter. It asserts personal pride and restores dignity. Unfortunately, no one can do it for you.

Article - It is sad.

As someone who was bullied relentlessly from about 4th grade, when I was forced from a private school into a state one, until a few weeks after graduation.....it has more of an impact that any adult can know. and it can be simple - I was chosen by the choir director to pick a piece of music and direct it for our spring concert. The first time I got up in front of the choir and said something about how the piece should sound, and didn't direct it with little tiny "1-2-3-4" moves but the sweeping ones it needed, the choir laughed.
I never went back. and the worst part was, that imbecile choir "teacher" used to pass me, hanging out with people outside the hall that led to the choir/orchestra/drama rooms and say "are you coming to class?" and I'd say "No." and he'd keep walking. I knew there was no point in saying anything to him; he didn't care and he couldn't have stopped it anyway.
let the buildings rot, sow salt in the ruins, and sit under a tree with a child or two, asking real questions about real things - that's a teacher.