Like most workplaces across Canada over the last few weeks, our newsroom has had more than a few discussions about bullying. Like most, we've been appalled by the different stories that have emerged, both from far away and much too close to home.

What's been troubling me is not just the details — the vivid descriptions of horror, of lives upended and of justice denied — but of the language that we all use.

One of my major gripes? The automatic, umbrella use of the word "bullying" itself, particularly when we describe actions that are criminal acts known by blunter words.

When a girl in Blaketown was kicked by two fellow students, just mere feet away from their school's parking lot, was not just bullying. It was assault. (The fact that it was witnessed by a large crowd, some of whom shared cellphone videos on social media, speaks volumes about adolescent behaviour today.)

I had a similar reaction when another story emerged in Corner Brook about a 12-year-old boy who was allegedly assaulted by an older student at Presentation Junior High School.

Overall, the boy's ongoing torment has been described as bullying, and while that may be fair, the lines definitely got crossed — particularly when a particular weapon came into the picture.

The Royal Newfoundland Constabulary says the 14-year-old suspect is believed to have pulled a knife on the boy. When that kind of thing happens, we're no longer talking about bullying. We're now talking about assault. Logically, the police have charged the Corner Brook teen with assault with a weapon.

My colleague Marilyn Boone, one of the producers of Here & Now, has made an excellent point at story meetings.

If the people involved in the examples of bullying that we've heard recently about were older, we wouldn't be calling it bullying. We would call it what it really is: assault.

Downplaying the significance of crime

I agree. The word "bullying" sometimes devalues the seriousness of what has happened, or downplays the type of crime that has happened.

Don't get me wrong. Bullying is pernicious, soul-destroying behaviour, and has wrecked countless lives.

It's the language, or more specifically the word itself, that causes me pause. Sometimes I hear the word used almost casually, such as to describe a mean remark that one kid makes to another.

This was the very topic of conversation that my colleague Peter Gullage and I had earlier this week. He made a very good point. "Bullying is not being mean," he said. "It's a campaign."

Persistent actions that lead to despair

That is, indeed, what bullying really involves: a persistent series of actions that are focused and, to the target of the abuse, relentless. The hopelessness that overwhelms many bullying victims is rooted in the fact that they cannot see how it will ever end.

Oddly enough, I often find the word "bullying" actually takes away from the atrocious behaviour that it often describes. Maybe that's because people are too cavalier with it.

More to the point, though, I don't think it's appropriate to describe punching, kicking, beatings and, yes, threats made with knives as bullying.

These are serious acts, and while the accused may not ever be charged or punished (there is, after all, no shortage of criticism with the Youth Criminal Justice Act), the age of the participant is no reason to soften the language we use.

Bullying, I've come to realize, is a juvenile word, in more senses that one.

When we're talking about what is undeniably a serious crime, we need to use language that is appropriate to the occasion.

Perhaps a more adult point of view may help us address a problem that has been such a terror for so many young people.