On the first day of teaching junior high I confessed to my students that I hated junior high. I know what you’re thinking. That’s not a very good way to start off, right? But let me explain

I hated being in junior high. I was not a cute, bouncy, popular girl with loads of confidence and a closet full of preppy clothes.

I didn’t have awesome hair, older siblings to pave the way, or even skills that made me stand out. If anything, my greatest skill was being invisible.

Don’t get me wrong. I had a few friends. I was in the band and I read most of the books on the library..ok that one probably tells a lot. I just didn’t quite fit in at school.

I was so terrified of saying something that would make me look stupid that I didn’t say anything. I didn’t say anything, but I saw everything. At least I thought I did.

What I saw was that everyone else was way cooler than I was. Everyone else was way cuter, thinner, smarter, and popular than I was.

It didn’t help that people tended to point out my flaws. I had big teeth. I wore cheap glasses. I was awkward. Maybe they thought I didn’t know about these things and that if they pointed them out I would change. If only.

On that first day of standing in front of the junior high students as a teacher, all I could think of was how much I didn’t want any of those kids to have that experience. I wanted them to enjoy the time in junior high. I couldn’t fix everything…but I could at least try to show them love and acceptance and help them have grace with each other.

I think I’ve done okay. I hear almost daily that I am someone’s favorite teacher. I was told by one boy that I was “W”… I had to ask. It was a good thing. Kids come into my room in the morning that I don’t have till the after noon so they can tell me good morning. I don’t think I’ve “solved junior high trauma single handily”, but I like to thing I’m doing ok.

Then, today happened. It was a” normal “ day. Things were clipping right along till 7th hour.

7th hour honors/mainstream combo in 8th grade ELA. It is a fun group that I can move pretty quick with, plus it’s a pretty small class. The kids were doing group work so I was grade inputting at my computer.

After a little while, I noticed a shift in the room. It was atmospherically as well as physical. That was my cue to loop and check. The girls were being weird. Whispers, futile looks, huddling. If you know, you know. I hovered.

As the end of class came, one girl bolted from the room while the others stayed behind. The delegation had been left. They converged on one boy.

It wasn’t mean, it wasn’t his fault, but his girlfriend liked someone else. He said he was fine. The message was delivered. All was well.

But I saw it. I saw it through his forced smile.

I saw it through his fist as he clutched the explanatory note.

I saw it as he did his best to shake it off and finish his day normally.

I saw it, and my heart dropped to my feet as all the hurt and pain and feelings of rejection flooded back to me and I just wanted to hug that poor boy.

But I didn’t hug him. I didn’t say anything. I let them go on their way and deal with it.

It reminded me of what I’ve learned since I was that sad kid in the seat.

Nobody is immune from pain because nobody really has it all together at that awkward age…or any age really. We’re all working and struggling through different versions of junior high as we live our lives, trying not to look stupid.

I wasn’t the only awkward kid at my junior high, Ernest was also there. I think of him as the male version of me, except I think he had it worse. He was tormented. I would cast smiles in his direction when I could, trying to send strength in the only way I knew how, but I think he was too guarded to even notice me.

I saw him again, later on towards the end of high school. He had gone to a different school than I had. He had survived. Not only had he survived, he had turned into Total Heart throb. It made me smile to see him rise above the crap and, in a way, snub his nose at the bullies through his success.

Go Ernest.

We should all be ernest.. because it’s important to be earnest…

Cause I said so.