The Ugly Middle and My Early Peak

Oh! how they told us the things we'd do in the big middle school! Once we left our humble roots in our quaint and locally-based elementary schools, we'd be riding high! They spoke of the new freedoms and responsibilities. They told us how we would meet new children from across the county. And they glossed over the fact that our innocence was going there to die forever (along with recess).

Just the thought of having to leave classrooms constantly scared the bejesus out of me before we ventured over to Blue Ridge (our middle school). It just didn't make sense that we would change rooms. Why change rooms when you can stay in the same one? Lockers also were very intimidating, and I remember we even had sample locks to try out in 5th grade before the end of our last year at elementary school. It seemed like they were trying to intimidate us, "So everyone will have 5 minutes in between classes, and you'll have to figure out your schedule so that you can have enough time to go by your locker, exchange your books for the next class, or classes if you can't make it back to your locker in time, and then make sure you're not tardy, because there's a slew of reprimands of varying degrees that they can sentence you to. First off, if we're in such a hurry, why would we lock our stuff away when we're coming back in such a short time. Isn't that kind of like putting your shoes on and tying double knots every time you get out of the pool at swim practice, moments before you have to take them off and jump back in?

And where did all this punishment come from? Whoever created middle school discipline clearly had a fetish for all the ways you could wag your finger at someone: warnings, demerits, tardy slips, referrals, principal office visits, lunch detention, in-school restriction, after-school restriction, Saturday school restriction, parent-teacher conferences, suspension, and the almighty expulsion from the school and even the school district. Shit was basically hitting the fan left and right as we scrambled through the hallways, dropping our books because our appendages were all growing at different speeds, and the second we tried to scream for help our voices would crack, leaving us utterly humiliated, acne-covered, and lying in shame in the empty and window-less hallways. Ah, yes, sweet middle school.

But I feel like it was well accepted that the technical difficulties of middle school (the lockers, classroom switching, and emphasized disciplinary actions) were dwarfed by the social massacres that took place in grades 6 through 8 (dependent on what your MS offered). Suddenly, there were a hudred or more kids your age, all thrown together in the same filthy arena. Whatever relationships you claimed to observe in elementary school were about to be put to the test. And in this massive sea of awkwardness was the worst presumption of all, that of presuming to be mature. New ideas of how we were supposed to interact with the opposite sex, with our friends, and with people in general spewed into the social arena like sewage from a toilet with its flow reversed.

The place to observe such new order was in the cafeteria. Lunch tables were set up like real estate markets with some sort of established "popularity" being the currency by which these plots of land were valued. At first, things seemed loosely tied to the elementary school bonds, but inevitably, these groups would break down in the face of the pulls of the middle school social hiearchy. We watched as some of our best friends migrated away from our table, which was becoming increasingly bitter, sarcastic, and barbaric at the sight of such snobbery. Soon, it was us who had established our own microcosm of a society within our table, sentencing our own kind to obey our ficticious power and ability to give out random beatings and shovings, verbal assaults, and even in the queerest of rituals, sentencing one of our own to lick the cafeteria floor if the rules of our animalistic "drop" game were violated. The "drop" game in itself can basically epitomize our minds and intentions at that point in life. The basic setup to the game is one person dropped something they brought for lunch in the middle of the table, while the rest of us participated in a real-life version of Hungry, Hungry Hippos, and would grab at the food the moment it struck the table. The only real rule was that you couldn't grab the food before it hit the table, or else you were subjected to the ultimate punishment as stated above. We were shameless and ravenous, strange and uncomfortable. Such was middle school, especially when it came to girls.

This was when, ideally, we all frolicked bashfully like Disney romantics among the cartoon birds and bees and bears and brachiosauruses, but in reality it was a time of jitters, secrets, deceit, impossibly folded (and then crumpled) love notes, rampant AOL instant messenger banter, and complete and utter confusion about what the hell was going on. It was all incredibly exciting of course, but no one really knew why. Rumors would just start circulating and people would be implicated into various love circles, triangle, and and hyperboles. I believe the phrase, at least at that time, was "going out" with someone, which meant you two were together (somehow), even though in all reality, you didn't go anywhere, you didn't really know each other, and in all reality you probably never even said a word together (let alone touched physically). I seemed to have backed right in the middle of all this when someone told me some girl liked me (probably through a 70-time folded note with pink ink scribbled in loops and flowers all over it (and for those who would know, it was Jennifer Everhart - Jim, I think you had the exact same situation maybe a week apart from my own experience). Not only did I not know this girl, but I certainly had no idea what to do about this newfound information. Of course this wasn't really a problem, because her friends seemed incredibly adept at pulling me through the gauntlet that was a middle school relationship. I was told who liked me, why they liked me (because I was soooo cute! xoxoxo!!!), and when and where this girl thought would be a good time and place for ME to ask her out, all of this second-hand knowledge from her friends. I don't think I got my first directly-sent-by-her note until after I fumbled across the schoolyard track (past all the leering eyes of her entourage) and uttered something to the likeness of "D'ya wanna go out with me?", after which (she said yes) I promptly smiled, blushed, turned, and walked back into the school.

Our beautiful two or three (I really have no idea) week relationship was one for the storybooks. A flirty pink inked note here, a chance glimpse of her smiling at me from another lunch table there, and basically me befriending her friend (Jenna Livesay) at the big high school basketball game where she was going to sing the national anthem. I may have said five words to her. What a ride it was, and then, as if plotted out carefully on all those girls' calendars, I was dumped a few days before Christmas break. I even remember some of her friends seeing me in the hallway telling me to run because they knew she was close and she was about to drop the axe, and me being completely confused because it didn't seem like that was the best way to keep a relationship going (not realizing that they just wanted to watch me squirm for their enjoyment).

After that, I was pretty sure the whole "going out" thing was bullshit and I was to have none of it. But as my friends may know (and remind me constantly of it), this whole thing was far from over; I was well on my way to hitting my peak of my life, whether I wanted to or not. For whatever reason, among the ranks of girls, word spread that I was "super-cute", in the way that I would imagine a puppy shrunk to the size of pea and dressed like a little fireman or some shit would be cute (the more u's the better - cuuuuuuuuute). That's all it took basically. I caught a wave, a big one. I was "hot", and allegedly "a buncha girls" liked me. This was it, I had made it. And what did I do? Absolutely nothing. Blushing and smiling and shyly going from class to class, I fucking rested on my laurels. I was completely complacent and honestly had no real inclination to do anything, mostly because I didn't really know what to do. Even though I did happen to have my own super secret crushes on acknowledged reciprocating parties, I was scared, scared to lose it all and scared to reveal to these girls I was in no way suave or cool or knew how to make a move. And so eventually, it all died down. The show left town and the word was I was a frickin' prude, too nut-less to do anything but smile and blush. But such is life, and damn it, I had a good run while it lasted.