Middle School 101

Fact: Middle schoolers have a bad reputation.  Arguably deserved. 

No one thinks too highly of these awkward in-between years. Kids have mostly shed their cute factor, but have yet to replace it with any other factor. They are loud and run in packs--leaning on the safety of blending in when individuality seems terrifying. There’s a common perception of middle school kid as volcano, a sweaty Vesuvius waiting to explode with the slightest provocation.   Middle schoolers are known for hormones, animal noises, bad smells.  Hence the reputation.  

When I tell anyone I teach middle school, the response is a clenched grin and one of these stock diplomatic phrases:

“Wow, that’s a rough age.”  (read: that sucks)

“God bless you!” (read: I know neither of us is religious, but I can’t think of anything better to say)

“I hated middle school.” (read: I had braces twice and boyfriends never)

“That’s a lot of hormones in one building.” (read: middle schoolers smell and get their periods. Don’t you want a desk job?)

Thanks for the support, friends.  Sometimes I try to defend the age group, but mostly I just change the subject.

“So, what do you do?”

Middle school is an undeniably awkward stage of life. The bad reputation is mostly deserved, but I’ve developed a soft spot for hormonal 7^th graders.  It’s not Devonte’s fault that his best friend is literally twice his size with twice as many girlfriends.  Nor is it Kevin’s fault that his mom calls his teachers every day to check up on his homework completion (maybe if he did his homework, she’d stop, but that’s beside the point). It is Alisha’s fault that she asked me for a “pad for her period” in front of half the class. Nice alliteration, Alisha, here's a pass to go to the office.

Middle schoolers are starting to come into their own, slowly developing budding senses of self. This is terrifyiningly exciting.  The road is obstacle-ridden like Downtown Brooklyn, and they need all the help they can get  navigating it.  As a middle school teacher, you get to help out 75 kids during their bleakest hour. All in a day's work.

Teaching middle school involves endurance.  You must endure millions of unwarranted eye rolls and buckets of sass worse than anything you remember dishing out. You must endure a classroom that smells like the amalgamated body odor of 25 pre-teens.  You must endure note-passing, teeth sucking, classroom flirting, constant lip-gloss application.  But as a middle school teacher, you are rewarded for your endurance.  You are rewarded by the student who uses every single vocabulary word you've taught her on her unit test--each accompanied by a smiley face.  By the thank you notes and cartoons dropped on your desk. By the priceless running document of quotes on your desktop.  The bad reputation middle schoolers have garnered is maybe deserved, but it masks a lot of the cute stuff about the age group.  The skeptics probably haven't spent a day in a middle school since they were learning the periodic table.  I'm not sure I blame them, but still.

A sense of humor and yoga help me keep calm and carry on. Mostly, though, I remind myself of one fact:  It is so much better to teach middle schoolers than it is to be a middle schooler.  So. Much. Better.   On particularly trying days (today, for example), this becomes a wise mantra.  Someday, each of my students will have a similar sense of perspective. For now, I repeat it in my head during choice interactions--moments of extreme endurance--and this job actually becomes pretty fun.