Saturday, April 24, 2010

Angst! Woe! A Typical Day in Middle School

Saturday in the office = perfect time for another of Mama Kat's writing prompts

18. Describe a typical day during your Jr. High years.

Oh, Junior High (or Middle School as I've always called it). If the constant humiliation, awkwardness, and self-loathing of those preteen years are supposed to be character building then I ought to have the character and moral fortitude of the Dali Lama.  No disrespect.
The following is a typical day in the 7th grade:

Morning. Wake up to the sound of Mom's voice. Stare at her balefully.  Take a shower.  Dress myself in one of four woefully unfashionable outfits I seemed to have on constant rotation. Scrape my still-wet hair back into an unbecoming ponytail/bun/bird's nest.  Rearrange the wire sticking out of my braces that is always poking me in the cheek. Get on the bus and ride for an excruciatingly long time.
School. Watch Channel One News in Mr. Marlatt's homeroom, secretly wish I could be Maria Menounos when I grow up. I bet she never had braces. Avoid Ms. Ragsdale's freakish clown makeup eyes in Math class because don'tcallonmeIdidn'tdothehomework.  Get excited for Geography class because I get to stare at Micah's amazingly blue eyes for the whole period. Thank my lucky stars for assigned seating.
Lunch. Sit at the end of the too-cool-for-middle-school kids' table with Stephanie (because she's cousins with one of the cool kids so we have diplomatic immunity). Share a bottle of Strawberry Passion Fruitopia and talk about how much we hate having braces.
Band. Flute, sixth chair. Share a stand with Becky. Pass notes with Mythili C. and Mythili S. (To this day, it still amazes me that I had two Indian friends in middle school, let alone that they were both named Mythili, considering we lived in rural Tennessee.) Try and avoid getting hit by the baton as Mr. Kinney inadvertently chucked it around the room.
More class, mostly forgettable drudgery.   
Last period. Reading, with Ms. Blair.  Get our spelling tests back stained with a pungent yellow smear because as a part-time minister, she kept her "anointing oil" in her school bag for some reason. Try and ignore Weird Ashley, who kept trying to show me the cartoon about anime hamsters she was always working on. Pass notes with Angela and Brianna and make sleepover plans I know Mom won't let me keep.
After school. Get picked up after school by Mom and then go wait in the parking lot of the Elementary school for my siblings.  Claim the front seat with the self-righteousness and entitlement of "permanent dibs" that comes from being the oldest and the attitude of someone who is "so over" elementary school.
Afternoon snack. Spend the rest of the afternoon/evening in my room reading books, writing stories, and sending letters to my BFF Jeni whom my parents cruelly ripped me away from when we moved to Tennessee in the middle of sixth grade. Dramatic, mournful sigh.
Night. Pick at the food on my plate at supper. Ignore family. Go to bed and have the tortured, angst-filled dreams of adolescence.

Whew. Not quite a pleasant trip down memory lane.  Middle school wasn't unbearable, but nothing really sticks out in my mind as being particularly fun or exciting.  I had no close friends or fashion sense and even less self-esteem.  I felt the need to constantly compare myself to my younger sister, my polar opposite.  I was quiet, moody, and continually angry at my parents for making me move away from Kentucky.  Little did I know that was not the last time my parents would uproot our family.  Looking back, I see it was all part of the growing process that made me who I am today.  That said, I still feel the need to apologize to my family for that sullen, metal-mouthed 12 year old.  Mostly because that 12 year old remained sullen until midway through age 15. Fortunately, what you have now is a 22 year old more prone to cheesy grins (thanks braces!) and witty comments.  Not that I'm Suzy Sunshine all the time, but I certainly don't slam as many doors.

I know you're all dying for a picture of what the 7th grade creature looked like but fortunately for me (and your eyes), digital cameras weren't popular until I was in high school.  The photographic evidence of that era is safely ensconced in a few albums on a bookshelf. Crisis averted!

So. What were YOU like in middle school?


  1. Thank you for letting me know where my other sister was all those years!

  2. Middle school started in 6th grade for us; that year, I spent approximately half of my noon hours in detention. I'm not really sure why. I guess I had a hard time adjusting or something. After that? I honestly don't remember all that much. I'm sure it happened, though. Middle school that is.


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