Dante forgot to mention Middle School
I'm teen-sitting MJ this week, and it's caused me to remember some things about my own experience with adolescence, specifically the horror of the two years of middle school. I generally have tried to block out that especially embarrassing, awkward, and insecure time of my life, but the memories have been flooding back since I dropped MJ off at school on Monday morning.
I suddenly remember so many awful experiences and anxieties. For example, I f-ing hated story problems. I still do. I love stories; hate the problems. I overheard MJ reading one out-loud involving pies in a bakery, and I became anxious immediately. By the way, those teachers totally lied to us. We absolutely can use calculators in the real world. Also, how terrible were the rules in middle school?! No gum, no bookbags, no going to the bathroom without a huge hall pass like the one that Mr. L made us use that was actually a toilet seat. And gym uniforms? Gold shorts and purple shirts. Pu-lease. When I was in middle school, there were two places in Watertown where you could buy said uniforms. 90% of the middle school population bought the more expensive, yet significantly less geeky, screen printed gym wear. The other 10% wore over-sized and embroidered (yes, embroidered) gym clothes that screamed "I'm from the south side of town." I'll let you guess which kind of gym uniform Mama Lightfield sent me to school with (we lived in the SE part of town). I also had braces and glasses and pimples. There was no hint of boobs nor a promise of them ever growing. My feet were huge (that never changed), and I was even more awkward than I am now. And, my great aunt was the Home Economics teacher whom everyone hated and whose relation I tried desperately to keep a secret from my peers.
What a couple of years! I'm glad I came out alive, though I'd be lying if I said that the confused 13 year old wearing the weird uniform with big feet and embarrassing family lineage doesn't still reside somewhere deep inside of me. I buy her nicer clothes to shut her up.
I suddenly remember so many awful experiences and anxieties. For example, I f-ing hated story problems. I still do. I love stories; hate the problems. I overheard MJ reading one out-loud involving pies in a bakery, and I became anxious immediately. By the way, those teachers totally lied to us. We absolutely can use calculators in the real world. Also, how terrible were the rules in middle school?! No gum, no bookbags, no going to the bathroom without a huge hall pass like the one that Mr. L made us use that was actually a toilet seat. And gym uniforms? Gold shorts and purple shirts. Pu-lease. When I was in middle school, there were two places in Watertown where you could buy said uniforms. 90% of the middle school population bought the more expensive, yet significantly less geeky, screen printed gym wear. The other 10% wore over-sized and embroidered (yes, embroidered) gym clothes that screamed "I'm from the south side of town." I'll let you guess which kind of gym uniform Mama Lightfield sent me to school with (we lived in the SE part of town). I also had braces and glasses and pimples. There was no hint of boobs nor a promise of them ever growing. My feet were huge (that never changed), and I was even more awkward than I am now. And, my great aunt was the Home Economics teacher whom everyone hated and whose relation I tried desperately to keep a secret from my peers.
What a couple of years! I'm glad I came out alive, though I'd be lying if I said that the confused 13 year old wearing the weird uniform with big feet and embarrassing family lineage doesn't still reside somewhere deep inside of me. I buy her nicer clothes to shut her up.
Comments
Post a Comment
Leave me a message!