We talk a lot about how to handle bullying when it happens. How not to tolerate it. How to intervene, support the victim, talk to the perpetrator. There’s a whole library of articles out there about managing bullying—and for good reason.
But maybe we’re all starting too late in the story.
Because baked into that whole approach is the idea that bullying is just a natural part of growing up. That it will happen—everywhere, inevitably—and then it’s about how well we react.
But what if it’s not inevitable?
What if it’s possible to build a space where bullying simply doesn’t happen—not because everyone is perfect, but because the design of the environment leaves no room for it?
That’s the real question. Yuri Lapshin, head of Le Sallay wellbeing department shares what we try to do.

Bullying Doesn’t Thrive Where Respect Lives
Bullying doesn’t take root in spaces where adults treat children—and each other—with genuine respect. Where aggression, even the quiet, passive kind, isn’t part of the daily atmosphere. It’s not about pretending conflict never happens; it’s about how we handle it when it does.
Sure, kids will sometimes clash. Someone laughs at someone else, a social group forms with a sharp edge—those proto-bullying moments that crop up everywhere. But they don’t escalate when adults don’t look the other way. When we step in—not with lectures, but with clarity, consistency, and care—we send a message: this isn’t how we treat people here.
At Le Sallay, we’re in a pretty good place when it comes to bullying. We don’t ignore it when someone crosses a line. More importantly, we’ve built a culture where it’s just not normal to put someone down. There’s no passive hierarchy keeping people in line or keeping them quiet.

Low Power Distance: Why It Matters
One of the most important structural things we do—though it might not be immediately obvious—is keep the power distance low. In plain terms, that means there’s not a huge gap between “teachers” and “students,” “administrators” and “everyone else.” It’s not a “them and us” kind of place.
We share meals at the same table. We have open, informal conversations. It’s easy to ask a question, to express disagreement, to share a concern—without fear of being dismissed or “put in your place.” That kind of access and openness fundamentally shifts how safe a space feels. When there’s less fear, there’s less need for posturing, and fewer places for bullying to hide.
High power distance environments (often unintentionally) reinforce silence and compliance. If students think adults won’t listen—or worse, that speaking up will backfire—they’re not going to say much. And if teachers don’t feel comfortable admitting something tricky happened in class, the whole thing goes underground.

It Just Doesn’t Fit Here
There are environments where bullying simply doesn’t fit. It feels out of place. Socially off. When someone starts to say or do something that feels like bullying, it doesn’t land—because the group doesn’t reward it. It’s not funny. It’s not clever. It doesn’t boost your status. In fact, it’s kind of awkward. That’s the goal: not just to prevent bullying, but to build a culture where it’s not even a currency.

Real Agency, Not Destructive Power Plays
What also makes a difference is agency—the kind that’s real, not performative. Our students have meaningful opportunities to express themselves, to make things, to take initiative. They don’t have to fight for their voice or scramble to be seen. They can show their personality by building something of their own—not by tearing someone else down.
In spaces where students have no room for expression, where everything is adult-run and top-down, agency often morphs into resistance. And that resistance can take destructive forms—bullying included. Because if the only way to stand out is by stepping on someone else, some kids will take that path. But if you give them the tools, the support, and the trust to create and lead and speak in productive ways, they don’t need to.
And that’s what we aim for—not just a safe space, but one where young people can be fully themselves, out loud.