My daughter is embarking on the worst year of my life
Seventh grade was the worst year of my life.
It started well enough, I believe. On the first day of school, I wore my 501s and a Hunt Club shirt from JCPenney’s. My mom wouldn’t buy real polo shirts, so I had to settle for a close knock-off. I still felt good about myself. My hair was probably lightly feathered. My Goody comb was new. I was a fan of Duran Duran. What could go wrong?
I thought I was ready for junior high—The lockers, the P.E. uniform, being in school with real live teenagers with braces and rumors of french kissing and french kissing WITH braces and did you hear about the kids whose braces got stuck?
I looked forward to choosing electives, rotating classes, and more demanding homework. I couldn’t wait to run a mile every Friday, join the orchestra, and dissect a grasshopper. I was eager. I was innocent.
Maybe that was the first indication my social world was about die the death of 1,000 molten suns?
In seventh grade, every friend I had in elementary school turned their backs on me. I didn’t understand why. It was bewildering.
Toward the end of the year, I visited the girls’ guidance counselor. I poured my heart out to her through messy sobs. She listened and nodded and then asked me, Have you been sick a lot?
Yes, I explained. My asthma was very bad that year. I was hospitalized and missed weeks of school when the time was totaled. I was excused from P.E. because I couldn’t run, so I worked in the office tallying attendance.
She told me sometimes, when kids are sick a lot, their friends forget all about them.
I thought that was odd and astonishing. If they were truly my friends, they wouldn’t have forgotten about me.
I wholly reject that to this day. I did nothing wrong. I had no control over the actions or thoughts of others.
I left her office feeling bruised, slightly worse, and hating my dumb lungs.
I also realized adults didn’t have all the answers and that whatever solution for my problem would have to start with me. The frank answer was that the counselor had no clue what to say, so she decided to give an easy excuse. Her help was light balm for my battered heart. I saw right through it.
Yesterday, my daughter began seventh grade. I have not been honest with her about how it was for me. I am not sure if I should tell her how much I hated seventh grade, so I plaster a smile on my face and enthusiasm in my musings about what this year will bring. I notice doubt in her face, though.
It was there when I snapped a photo of her. It was there when I dropped her off.
I wonder if she can see right through me?
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Oh, Gretchen. I don’t cry easily in the morning (at night, well, that’s another story). But in the morning, no. And this post made me teary. I’m so sorry for your 7th grade year. Your daughter’s will be different because you are aware of it all on her behalf. That will make a huge difference, don’t you think?
Still, those wretched jr. high years. Sorry.
My worst year was 6th grade. I needed the word “frenemy” before it was coined for the girls I hung out with.
At least in 7th, with the hourly class schedule, I was moving away from the people making of fun of me to a new batch of people each class. And band was my haven. It was 7th/8th grade combined, and there were some 8th graders who didn’t mind talking with me. When I was a “cool” 8th grader, I returned the favor to the new 7th graders. And by 8th grade I was okay with the weird niche I held in our (relatively) small class of 120 kids.
In 2nd grade my mother died. I didn’t know what death was.
This was precious and heartbreaking all at once.
Oh my yes. Just reading that phrase “the lockers, the P.E. uniform” brought back a rush of memories and shivers. UGH. Seventh grade. Which was worse? Seventh or eighth grade? My family moved in the middle of seventh grade. Not good times.
But like the other Megan said, she is gonna be just fine with her thoughtful, aware Mama full of empathy by her side. (If she’ll let you get that close.)
I wish we had been in 7th grade together. I, too, was a lung-challenged person who felt friendless a lot.
I’d like to think we would have been kind to each other. But JC Penney? Really. I was a K Mart girl.
7th Grade my parents pulled me into a private Catholic school ,away from a public elementary school.
I had to make a choice between the “popular” crowd and the “not popular” crowd.
I wasn’t popular in high school after that choice, but I saved a friend from being embarrassed and am now friends with both people on Facebook. Funny how that works… popular kids and not so popular kids are now talking about kids, and issues just like we were always friends.
It gets better.. the wounds heal, I think the worst part of 7th grade is watching our kids go through a hard spell. I would take all the mean words, etc over again, just to keep my kids from having to go through the pain.
My son will start 7th grade on Monday in Steamboat Springs. I dread it. I hated 7th grade and was sent home for wearing culottes. Culottes! Everything about our world has changed-especially technology-but middle school is just as awful now as it was then!
Joanne Palmer
author of Life in the ‘Boat
How I fell on Warren Miller’s skis, cheated on my hairdresser,
and fought off the Fat Fairy….true tales from Ski Town USA
That sounds so much like my 8th grade year, except I didn’t have friends because I moved to a new school. I dread when my kids get that age as well, but at least you will be able to identify if your daughter goes through the same thing. In a way, I think I am a stronger person now because of my trials and tribulations of being that age.
Oh, Gretchen! I’m so sorry you had to deal with such a terrible 7th Grade Year.
I am so glad that I got in with a group of really cool friends (we’re still in contact now!), and I actually enjoyed my junior high and high school years. (I know, I know…what can I say? I did! Sorry…) I really hope my daughter gets in with a group of friends like that…
Thankfully, we have MILES to go before crossing that bridge.
GOOD LUCK to you AND your daughter in this big step!
I remember my first day of 7th grade P.E. class. We had to change into P.E. clothes. I was a little nervous about that but it went fine. It was when we were all sitting on the gym floor in our white t-shirts and black shorts that it went bad for me. All of the girls were whispering and snickering at ME. I had no clue why. Then one of girls finally said, “Why don’t you shave your legs?!” I was mortified. I had no idea that girls were supposed to shave their legs, and the thought of it was appalling. I guess I wasn’t ready to grow up yet. I went home and told my mom, and she bought me an electric razor. That was even worse, because then every time I used it, I knew my dad and my brother knew I was shaving my legs. Ugh, growing up is hard stuff. If you haven’t shown your daughter how to shave, better get a crash course in before that first P.E. class :)
Ohh! This almost made me cry. Junior High wasn’t the best for me either, I bet if you took a poll, most would agree, not the best years. Junior High can be torture! A big ses-pool of hormones. Hang in there. I hope the best for you , remember if may be a different experience for you daughter, maybe a good one…..good luck :)
I was fortunate to have amazing junior high years. Small school. No drama with the girls. Amazing teacher. Some of the best years of my schooling life. Didn’t realize until later how unique my experience was.
As someone who once taught jr. high (and as the wife of someone who still teachers jr. high), these next two years can be really exciting for Aidan. They’ll be tricky too, but she’s already got a great start by having a loving, faith-centered, stable family that supports, encourages and prays for her. That will make a huge difference.
Oh the dreaded jr. high… I too had a bad experience (surprise, surprise!). Two out of the group of girls I ran with didn’t like me and signed all the others names to a nasty letter about not wanting to be around me. And told them all I was talking badly about them. The following months were terribly lonely, but luckily the two girls who lived across the street were kind and remained my friends. But it definately started the rebellious, defensive, and distrustful pattern that continued for many years.
Luckily you are aware of the way such matters of the heart feel and can be there for her with wise words if she (G-d forbid) should need them.
You didn’t beat them to a pulp? Or trip them in the cafeteria. YOU are nice!
7th grade was my worst year too. We had moved from a tiny town on the Canadian prairies, where I went to a small private school, to a California city where I went to a big public junior high. No one said “culture shock” but that’s what it was.
My twins are in 7th this year, but the French system starts middle school in 6th. I don’t expect it to be a horrible year, and I hope I’m right!
Since I have an insider’s scoop, being the person who reads all those seventh grade journal entries, I can tell you that nearly every kid in seventh grade feels exactly that way. The drama is usually caused by a few “powerful” people who have learned to bully others to get attention. When those powerful people are dethroned, seventh grade breathes a collective sigh of relief. For better or worse, seventh grade itself is empathy training. Those of us who suffered during those years learned lessons that have made us kinder adults. Those of us who didn’t have fewer Facebook friends!