Middle School: First Exposure To The Real World

I never went to middle school, but from everything I've heard, it is a place of misery, shame, torment and sorrow. It is a holding room for prison. You know in werewolf movies when the guy is turning from human to beast, and everything bubbles beneath his skin and he contorts in screaming agony? Yeah, that's what is going on inside every kid who walks the halls of middle school. On the outside, those same kids are smiling (uncomfortably), talking (some, in frog-like croaks) and trying to get along, but there is no security in effort. You see the side-glances, the judgments, the annoyance and though it is all directed out (usually to the weaker ones: the pigeon toed, bad skinned, chubby, payless-wearing dorks) it is really self-hatred that fuels everything.

Is it really that bad? Yes, and if there is trouble at home, it is that bad X 100.

But aren't there friends and laughter and hopes and dreams? Pssshhh. Please.

OMG seriously? Good things only happen enough to keep you going, like a one second sniff of air in a spin cycle of waves pounding down on top of you.

It's boot camp for the real world? Yes, maggot, now drop and give me 50.

Parents aren't the enemy exactly. Sometimes we are. Mostly we are irritating journalists trying to embed with the troops, asking stupid questions: How was it today? Are you friends with him? Do you think she smokes pot?

There is nothing we can do. There is nothing we can do but watch as they, sometimes crying, usually frowning, get out of the car with their 100 pound backpacks, and trudge off to prison/war/the unknown. There is nothing we can do but watch and know that they will, eventually, be strong and amazing.