I have been once again whipped up into the vortex that is middle
school. The first time around I was a sixth grader myself. I remember
that I was completely panicked and self-conscious about how I looked but too
tired to wake up early enough to ensure that I had brushed my hair and dressed myself in matching clothes each
morning. I was completely overwhelmed with the busyness of
my new schedule at Jamestown Middle School.
I was dumbstruck by the school lessons about
atoms and molecules, communism and the Holocaust, and I was dazzled by the vast assortment of
different kids whose approval I so desired.
I spent the entirety of my sixth grade year simultaneously feeling both
confused and excited; lost and found; idiotic and brilliant.
I experimented with fashion, with friends,
with study habits, and with personal identities.
It was exhausting.
 |
Meredith, age 11
Rocking the Swatch watch, of course |
Finally, after many years, I found myself, and I subsequently blocked out
all of that adolescent awkwardness (that bled into early adulthood).
I grew up, got a job, got married, had kids,
and read lots of books.
I made more
friends and learned to love myself most of the time.
I occasionally looked back and affectionately
remembered my goofy and adorable middle school self, but I happily repressed
the memories of the real heart breaks and desperation of that transitional
time.
From the moment my oldest daughter put her foot on board the bus that would
take her off to middle school, all of those memories came flooding back.
Oh dear Lord, please don’t make me sit here
helplessly and watch as she re-lives all of the same adolescent angst that I
suffered through.
Can’t I just tell her
about all of those painful lessons I already learned and let her skip them all?
Of course you know that this is not possible.
Just like that bitch Glinda from the Wizard
of Oz assured us, she HAS to learn it all for herself.
And what is a mama to do except listen with
rapt attention as her long legged girl sits on the floor and pours her heart
out about the day’s dramas.
Of course I
cannot keep up.
Today’s best friends are
tomorrow’s heart breakers, and this week’s crisis will be, in hindsight,
completely trivial by next week.
But I’m in there,
y’all, making all of the appropriate comments like, “No, she didn’t!?” and, “I'm so sorry, sweetheart. I know that really hurt your feelings.”
And as I stare, with my brow unconsciously furrowed, at this young lady, it
is so much like gazing into a foggy mirror, that I feel a little bit sick.
“You are better than all of this middle
school nonsense!”
I want to scream.
“None of this will matter in ten years!” I
yearn to declare. And, "Remember when you were eight, and you were full of confidence and conviction and healthy self-love?" my heart cries out.
 |
| Lovely Pre-Middle School Emma |
I know that one day she
will remember just like I eventually did. Until then I will continue my deep breathing exercises, and I will keep whispering Stuart Smalley-esque affirmations into her ear as she sleeps at night:
"Dear girl, you ARE good enough, smart enough, and doggone it, it doesn't matter if everyone likes you. You are amazing and unique, and your opinions matter. Keep being yourself even if another kid rolls her eyes. Keep being kind even though other kids can be cruel. It really will get easier and better, but this world needs strong, passionate, caring, and smart girls like you, so fear not and rock on with your awesome self!"
A huge thank you to all of the adults who encourage my kids regularly. It totally takes a village to safely and sanely navigate middle school. Now could one of you whisper some parenting affirmations in my ear a little later?
Thanks.
Love,
Meredith
