So I had the oddest experience yesterday. And what's so strange is that it took me--an adult, a former teacher of middle schoolers, a mother of three, an educated woman--right back to sixth grade. And tenth grade. And that party in college when I went back home after being gone two years. It took me there--and it almost took my breath away. Because I thought that at 41, I couldn't go back there. I couldn't feel so small, so worthless, so defensive, so, well, hurt. But I did. And I can. And maybe that's what has me so unhinged about the whole thing. I can't remember the last time I just wanted to start crying over hurtful words. It was all I could do to keep it together. And it came from a sixth grade girl--a little girl! What on earth?
I have known this child since she was four years old. I have watched her grow up. I have watched her navigate through speech issues and body issues and struggles with being young for her class. And I've always loved her. I've never been anything but kind and positive and supportive of her. Whenever we see each other, we hug and we catch up. I've always enjoyed her and told my son what a sweet girl she is. And then yesterday. Yesterday.
I'm sitting at the Expo Center watching the county science fair. I have my three year old by my side. I've been taking pictures and watching experiments and I am feeling good. Observing my son has been a real treat. He is nearing the end of his first year of middle school and this is the first time I've been able to watch him in a big peer environment.
He is awkward. It's the time of life for awkward. He told me early in the year that he "just feels like he's weird." My response was "welcome to middle school. Everyone feels weird. Everyone thinks they are the only ones who are weird. It's the nature of the beast and I promise you, love--you are feeling what every other sixth grader is feeling. Give it time. You are unique and special and yes, a little weird right now. But so is everyone else you see. So be kind. Be strong. Be you."
As I watch him, I am amazed. He is walking around and saying hey to a lot of faces I've never seen. He is stopping to watch other people's work and is giving them fist bumps afterwards. I meet two of the boys in his classes I've been hearing about all year. They are such good boys and they look nothing like him. And I'm relieved. Because we've always emphasized spirit and goodness of people. So when it's his turn to run his experiment, a small group gathers in the stands.
It is composed of his best friend, who we adore. He is brilliant, well mannered, easy going, always smiling, and a true delight. He's half Korean, too. Three more boys are Hispanic, one sporting a mustache that has impressed Luke all year long. There is another white boy. There are three girls--one white, one Hispanic, one black. On the opposite side, in the arena, are two boys from his Boy Scout troop and one set of their parents. Everyone is so encouraging, so positive, so kind. And it does my heart good.
When Luke's experiment doesn't go flawlessly, they stay and watch and say "that's okay, man!" It's truly an awesome thing to see. I am grateful that he has found people who radiate goodness. No, they're not the athletes, but then, neither is he. Never has been. No, they're not the bunch walking around cocky looking good with their hair perfectly gelled. But then, neither is he. They're not the group on their devices texting each other not to talk to one boy in their group (true story. They decide every few weeks who to ostracize and then change it up to another boy). But then, neither is he. And I'm okay with that. Middle school is awkward, but he has found his groove.
So the experiments are over and it's time to just mill around waiting for results. And I'm approached by the young lady mentioned earlier. We exchange hellos and hugs and I take pictures of her with her science fair entry. She is excited. Her experiment went well and she's eager to tell me all about it. And then. And then. "Hey, Mrs. Langston. You do know that Luke is a total nerd, don't you? Like, he is totally awkward socially and weird. You know he's a nerd, right?"
And I am torn between slugging her (oh c'mon, I wouldn't ever strike a child, but there was an urge) and just crying. And I'm telling myself to breath deep and stay calm and choose my words carefully. And I'm at a loss. A loss. Because I am taken back to feeling less than. To being judged. To being called a name. And because it's my child. And I know kids can be mean and cruel and judgmental, and I know this will happen to everyone at some point. But from this little girl? Her? It almost took my breath away. I don't even really know my response--I think it was something like, "yes, he's in classes with a lot of really smart kids. I know that." And once again, "no, it's not just the people in his classes. It's him. He's a big nerd." So I think the response then was, "well, nerds rule the world so I'm okay with that." Or something equally stupid. And then she walked off.
The day continued. Awards were distributed. My son's group was sitting on the first row of the stadium seats. When four of Luke's friends returned from getting their prizes in the arena, Luke got up, came up to them, and congratulated them. And I was proud.
I pick him up from school and we are talking about the day. And he says, "so, (insert girl's name here) said she talked to you today." "Yes, she did. I took a couple pictures of her, too." "so, she told me that she told you I'm a total nerd and a weirdo. Did she say that to you, mom?"
What?? She was inappropriate enough to say to it me and then she went and said it to him, just in case he wasn't insecure enough? Just to make him feel terrible? Just to prove that his mom, who has always said what a sweet girl she is, is dead wrong? What? What?
"Yes, she did say that. And I want to tell you what I observed about you and your friends today. They are kind. They are encouraging. They are supportive. They have the ability to look adults in the eye and converse with them. They are polite. And there's not much of that going on in sixth grade. So, what she calls one thing, I call another. And I'm grateful, Luke. I'm grateful you are selecting friends who are good on the inside. Who are kind. Who like you for you. And if someone who is wandering around the expo by herself needs to put that down, I'm okay with that. And you should be, too. You are my precious child who makes me proud and you always will be."
And I am. God bless and keep him and all his classmates, even the little girl who thinks he's a nerd.
