Tread Lightly When It Comes To Middle School

Tread Lightly When It Comes To Middle School

In general I have not been that mom who couldn’t stand it when her kid moved on from a stage in life.  Not that there is anything wrong with that mom.  In fact at times I have thought that there must be something wrong with me because I am walking away from the first day of kindergarten or some other major milestone without crying.  But I have tried to just celebrate whatever stage we are in.  I loved my babies as babies, but I don’t still wish they were babies.  I embraced having three toddlers at home when Cole, Mary Polly and Ben were all under five.  I also embraced napping on the couch and never showering along with it.  But I appreciated that we didn’t have places we had to be at certain times.  And that I pretty much had complete control over their choice of friends.  And for that matter, their choice of everything.  Then Cole started kindergarten, and I was excited that we were done being all at home and had entered a new era.  Elementary school.  It seemed like every year after that I had another child starting kindergarten.  And even last week when I walked Ben to second grade, I thought Oh my goodness, it will be just a minute before I am walking Simon to a classroom.

But this year there has been a little kink in my plan to always embrace the next stage of my children’s lives.  One of them finally reached a stage that I just wasn’t excited about. My oldest son, Cole, started middle school last week.  He is actually going to the same building every day that I went to for my first year of junior high.  He’s playing the trumpet.  I played the trumpet.  It’s his first year to have a locker.  I still cry when I think about trying to remember my locker combination.

We took Cole and picked him up the first few days of middle school, but now he’s riding the bus.  Which is better, because I don’t have to break out in hives when I drive down there and remember my middle school days. Last spring we went down there for orientation and I was walking the halls with Cole and I said,

Yep, Cole, right there.  There’s the spot where Mama had her very first nervous breakdown.  That’s right.  That desk there in what was then Mrs. Moore’s class.

And Cole looked at me with an expression that clearly did not mean,

I feel you mom.  I’m just so sorry.

Mrs. Moore did not understand the plight of an eleven year old girl who is being made fun of daily by that boy right there across from her.  Otherwise she would have used her almighty powers to move him to the other side of the room.

When I say I was being made fun of, I do not mean the kind where people say to you, Oh he is just flirting with you. I know about the kind of teasing that is really just flirting.  That’s what he did to OTHER girls.  But me.  I was made fun of like mocked, made the butt of all jokes and made to look like the complete idiot that of course I already believed I was because I could not EVER EVER get my locker open on the first try.  Or manage to get to class with everything I needed.  Or come up with a science project that would please the likes of Mrs. Moore.  Usually I could get all the way home before I would go inside and cry.  I would take deep breaths as I walked the slow road from the bus stop to my house, and up the stairs to my blessed bed with the Holly Hobbie bedspread.

You can make it.

I would tell myself.

But one day, I couldn’t make it.  I didn’t even make it out of third period.  I actually hyperventilated I cried so hard.  Which finally made people take notice of the fact that I was being HOUNDED by a MEAN boy for all of science class.  And here’s the thing about middle school.  You don’t ever want anyone to take notice.  Your parents, yes.  And your close friends, maybe, if you have any.  But not the rest of the world.  To the rest of the world, I was just trying to be invisible.  So, yes, the mean boy got in trouble.  It was a long time ago so he even got spanked.  Which I NEVER LIVED DOWN.  Mrs. Moore finally moved him, disdainfully.  And I spent the rest of the year trying harder and harder to disappear into the nonexistent spaces between the lockers.  Seriously.

So when Cole and I got home from his orientation, he told his dad that I was completely crazy and could his dad please take him to all of the rest of his middle school events instead of mom.  And when we filled Taido in, he said with TOTAL nonchalance,

That’s funny.  When I was in 7th grade, I got spanked for making fun of a girl until she cried.

And I have to tell you that I lost just a little bit of respect for him right then and there.  Respect he will not regain until he finds that poor girl and apologizes.  Which he cannot do, because he doesn’t remember her name.  They never do.

The good news is that I don’t think that Cole is going to repeat my middle school experience.  And I know this not just because he is a boy.  I know it because on the first day of school I picked him up and when he got in the car he was chewing on something.  So I said,

Hey, what’s in your mouth?

To which he replied,

My locker combination.

And because he is the kind of boy who would actually EAT the only piece of paper he has with that sacred information on it, I had to give him a lecture right then and there about NEVER making fun of girls.


  1. I think all girls have a memory from middle school that they would like to forget but those memories always seem to come back. My memory sure did when I read your story. I remember a certain middle school quarter back that made fun of me in front of my friends. I wanted to crawl under my desk. I saved my tears until I got home and my mom had to deal with ALL my emotions. Thank goodness that time was short lived. To bad it leaves such lasting memories.

  2. My 9th Grade year was TERRIBLE! I thought my parents we going to commit me. I had a wonderful teacher who tried his best to keep me where i needed to be with my grades so there was no repeating. I had to go to a remedial class everyday—- horrifying in itself. looking back I wish I had appreciated that class and kept it all the years I am sure that I would have done so much better all the way. I was depressed, sad, confused, lonely and I could get my locker open but it was on the third floor and my classes were all on the 1st or 2nd. when you only have 5 minutes that can be tramatic. last night Jacob said to me “mom, if you were not a good student then how can you be smart enough to help me with my homework?” o.k. can I crawl back into my Donny Osmond Comforter and start again????

  3. Oh my gosh I am DYING reading this…you and I would have been kindred spirits in junior high. Don’t even want to think about the day that Sam will go. Thanks for typing all this up.

  4. oh how i hated junior high. every single day.

  5. i remember the angst of junior high. the braces i had on my teeth. the relentless teasing i got because i was a little bit different and not at all in the popular crowd. even though i longed to be. i remember developing a rather sharp wit and sarcastic persona to deal with the mean boys and even meaner girls. and not for a minute do i wish those days back…

  6. i always find it incredible that no adult ever seems to have fond memories of jr high. nothing but state-sponsored torture.

  7. dearest, you seem to have struck a chord here.
    i don’t know what you are all talking about. i loved seventh grade. every minute. nerdy asians at sylvan hills really thrived.

  8. I have one recurring dream….I dream it about 3-4 times a week. Still. And it’s me trying to remember my locker combination at our middle school in El Do. And I’m frantically trying to get my locker opened. So I’m late to class. And I can’t remember which class I”m supposed to be in. So I look for my schedule. And can’t find it. So I go to the office to get a new one. Again. I dream the exact thing over and over again. Crazy huh??

  9. speaking as a former MEAN boy, we can too remember their names…but just the first names.

    if i could remember Claire’s last name, i would be totally fine with calling her up (or better yet – EMAIL!) and apologizing for – i don’t think there’s a way to say this without inviting disdain – daily whacking here in the shins with the side of my shoe as i walked by her desk and then timing how long it took for the bruise to appear.

    she never complained to the teacher. NEVER. and now, thanks to Al, i understand why.

    (ps last week, my daughter got busted in class for kicking a little dude in his shin as she walked past his desk. karma.)

  10. Laughing @ Taido “Nerdy Asians” They really did NOT get picked on At Sylvan Hills..Seriously, Anywho…I went from Catholic school until the 6th grade switching to SH…it was terrible…I tried to hide in the cracks of the lockers so no one could notice me. It’s all a passage of life.

  11. jason just introduced me to your blog and i’m so glad he did–this is right up my green livin’/outdoor lovin’/irreverent being/happy mothering alley. there’s hints of catherine newman (whom i adore) in your writing–i’ll even admit i had tears of laughter and sadness all scramble-egged up as i read. having these kids will just break your heart sometimes, won’t it?

    and there’s something so tactful and refreshing about being able to write about how wonderful and funny and cute your children are without actually saying that. literally. know what i’m saying?

    consider yourself bookmarked.


  12. My goal was to get past that room with the “holly hobbie” comforters before I broke down. And I always made it. Mean boys aren’t just mean to girls. Last-to-develop boys are in that category, too.

  13. Ouch. So sorry about that Pete.

    Thanks for all the response friends. I’m sure it was worth like a year of group therapy for me.

  14. we moved here from california just before i started fifth grade. i was painfully, awkwardly shy and had only one friend, a boy from church. the next year we bought a house and moved a few miles away. my new neighbor, a 10th-grade girl, teased me every single day on the bus. a 10th-grader picking on a 6th-grader (and i was a year younger than my classmates). she said really nasty things to me, pulled my hair, made me cry every day … my mother finally got the principal involved, but it didn’t really stop.

  15. […] leave the building, a building for which I already retain absolutely NO good feelings, per my own horrific year there.  At 10pm, Taido sends me a text message that he is on the side of the road somewhere in […]

  16. […] Friends, this is a child who will not be eating her locker combination. […]

Comments are closed.

%d bloggers like this: