Middle School Itch

Middle School Itch

Middle school stinks.  Here I am, one great big hormonal zit, sitting in “junior” high, a person without status or stature. Not a kid, not a teen and certainly not an adult. Stuck in a place where they try to make me learn stuff for no apparent reason. None of this stuff relates to real life. You’re nothing here but a label: jock, brown-noser, slacker, techie, band geek, drama geek, geek-geek.  

Worst of all, they keep testing you!  And it’s not like you hear on TV: This is a test. This is only a test. No, all you hear is “This test is going to affect your grade, your promotion, the rest of your life!  If you don’t pass, you might as well buy a one-way ticket to loser-ville. And you had better do well, or you, the school, your parents, the country and the universe will suffer.” It is all on your shoulders. Me, the middle school brat, the nobody. 

Talk about stress. Not only do I have to do well in my studies, I have to be popular. Popular!  How do I do that? Do I go along with the crowd?  Do I hang out with the right people?  And most importantly, do I wear the right clothes?  Fashion “no-nos” can follow you for life – at least into high school. You will always be the kid who wore the Nikes the day after every else had shifted to ‘Asics or the kid who wore a b-ball cap the day everyone went topless (so to speak.)

And how about at home?  My parents expect me to act like an adult but treat me like a kid. My big sister despises me. My older brother throttles me. My little brothers won’t give me any privacy. Don’t they know I have important thoughts to think and for heavens sake, need my own room?   

Time management is a contradiction in terms for me. How can I possibly manage a schedule that includes chores and homework, band practice and soccer practice? My computer screams answer me! Texts and Tweets pile on top of each other. Video games demand new champions and surfing the net eats hours of my day. I’ve got to see the latest movies and watch the right shows so I can at least appear cool. 

Sleep? I come alive around eight every night and can’t drop off until after midnight. Then they drag me out of bed at six to catch the bus at seven so I can be sitting in class a half-hour later while still in a zomboid state to discuss Shakespeare or divide fractions by percentages. The teacher is collecting homework. Did I remember to bring (or even do) it?  Where’s my folder? Where’s my book bag? Where’s my brain? At home, asleep in my cozy bedroom that still has the Elmo curtains my mother made when I was in kindergarten.

I feel like I am in that rat race the teachers keep yammering on about. Running as fast as I can while stuck in one place. And then my mom yells at me because I’m not cheerful! Cheerful?  I can barely manage civil. Polite? Well that depends. Does she want Sunday School polite or locker room polite?  Can’t I just be me?

Middle school stinks.  

 But here I am, stuck for three years (at least) with a bunch of people who don’t understand me.  I learned in my psych class that the teen-age brain is not fully developed and will not be fully functioning until I am in my twenties. 

Why can’t they cut me a break? Let my brain develop guys! Don’t judge me by the size of my feet but by the size of my brain!  You say you can’t see my brain? Then listen to me. Watch me grow. For heaven’s sake, help me along! That’s what you keep telling me your job is. So act like it. We can all get through this together. 

It’s only three years and then I’ll be a teen. Imagine the fun we’ll have then!