Category Archives: middle school

Feeling Frosty (not the Snowman)

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Feeling Frosty (not the Snowman)

My cynicism is at code red. Yesterday I hit a new low (or high?) on the cynicism scale. My brother posted a video of a guy saving a drowned puppy and my first thought was, looks staged. It was posted by Unilad if you feel inclined to look for it. I’m not proud of my response, it was honest though. I followed it up with my favorite GIF:

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And the kid who got bullied – Keaton Jones – where to begin? I can’t watch the video. I know what’s on there, I have kids in Middle School. This past October I had serious thoughts of sending my husband out on Halloween dressed as Sponge Bob to beat the crap out of an 8th grader who’s been a jerk to my kid. We didn’t do it, it was just therapeutic visualization. The fact is that kid needs to get his ass kicked. There isn’t a member of the school district faculty who would not agree with that “off the record”. Which leads me to one of my all time favorite movie fight scenes:

 

As for Keaton, now his mother is getting questioned about alleged racist posts and fake fundraising. I’m over here like, “eh, not surprised.” I hope Keaton gets the upper hand at lunch. Middle School is a cesspool of vicious kids, hormones, bad decisions and some poor fashion choices. It always has been.

I also visited one of my favorite blogs yesterday – Redneck Latte Ravings – http://www.rednecklatte.com/

He had a post which included two versions of “Baby It’s Cold Outside”. Check it out –

 

I used to hear this song and think, cute. Now in light of recent headlines and my own personal experiences….I watch the video and I find Ricardo Montalban a bit aggressive and creepy. The funny version featuring Betty Garrett and Red Skeleton doesn’t feel right either.

Image result for meme hands off

 

It’s all just a little too much right now. I need a time out.

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This Will Go Down on Your Permanent Record

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This Will Go Down on Your Permanent Record

I have zero tolerance for zero tolerance policies. They are the policy makers equivalent of the parent driving in 1975 with their head turned sideways with two finger tips of the left hand barely grazing the steering wheel, and the right arm swinging wildly towards the back seat of the car while screaming “I don’t care who started it, I’m going to stop it. Now don’t make me pull over!” Stupid, somewhat dangerous, short-sighted and completely lacking in justice.

A few days ago my son was targeted in PE class (you can’t call it gym anymore, people lose their mind over that). They were playing “touch” football, my son was tackled when the ball wasn’t anywhere near him. This might be considered horseplay if the perpetrator wasn’t a notorious jackass. He put one hand on my kid’s face and the other on his collar bone near his neck. My kid started to push back and cursed at the thug wannabe who started it. Technically my kid could get in trouble for standing up for himself, that’s f*cked.

My son was lucky. Although no one saw the physical altercation, the PE teacher totally had my son’s back.  He pretended not to hear the curse words my son surely yelled. Why? Because my kid is a good student who has never (not once) been in trouble at school. He’s in 8th grade so that says a lot about his character, luckily the teacher recognized this. The other kid is on the dirty dozen list at school. He’s been a troublemaker since 1st grade everyone knows this kid is trouble, everyone. These are the people that lawyer up when the school tries to rein in their unruly child. So this kid continues to terrorize the good kids and gets the occasional metaphoric slap on the wrist. What he really needs is a punch in the gut and a kick in the ass, metaphorically speaking of course…..my tongue is so far into my cheek right now.

The system is broken. This zero tolerance stuff is ineffective – why – because you need to consider the facts on a case by case basis. I’ve heard horror stories about kids making pretend guns using their index finger as the muzzle and their thumb as the hammer. Kindergartners  have gotten expelled for this, expelled. I’ve heard of middle school girls getting suspended for bringing Midol in to ease cramping. It’s ridiculous the pendulum has swung too far my friends. Time to bring common sense and her brother good judgement back to school. I really miss those two.

This sums it up nicely –

 

 

 

Middle School (pssst….it NEVER ends)

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Middle School (pssst….it NEVER ends)

Today I witnessed something that made me shudder and think….G-damn this middle school mentality never ends. I was visiting an elderly client, she isn’t quite 80 yet, so not that old (the definition keeps getting pushed back…..pretty soon everyone will be young or middle aged until they reach triple digits then and only then will they be considered elderly). I was slightly horrified to realize how much an assisted living facility (ALF – wait, wasn’t that a TV show…) can mirror middle school.

The hallways are filled with seasonal decorations. Each apartment door is decked out for whatever holiday is up next. Some of these people get carried away and I think there must be some kind of secret contest or perhaps it gets discussed at dinner. Dinner is a big deal. The time and table placement of the reservation reflects some kind of ALF hierarchy which I have not yet decoded. My clients aren’t regulars in the dinning room and I think it’s decreasing their stock.

There are popular residents and those that struggle with physical issues and/or social anxiety. Don’t get me wrong, some of the more outgoing residents deal with physical and social issues, they just soldier through it and show up at dinner and bingo every chance they get. The introverted shy gals like my friend can get lost in the shuffle. Pair a quiet  personality with a touch of dementia and the friend list gets anemic.

As we often do, Helen and I were playing table top shuffleboard in the lobby. We do this about twice and week and we both enjoy it. We were having fun, talking smack to each other and taking turns playing poorly, when a group sat at a nearby table. It started with just two people – Janet and Bob. Janet was talking about a recent hospital stay. She and Bob compared notes on blood thinners and MiraLAX. It was entertaining to listen to and not an uncommon conversation given the demographic.

Soon the two were joined by 3 more and the topic changed to a recent party. One of the ladies just had a blow out celebration for her birthday, a surprise party. Over 50 people attended and it took her more than an hour to read through all of the cards….she mentioned that no less than 3 times. I wanted to shout “we heard you the first two times Marge” but that seemed inappropriate. I could tell my shuffleboard partner was not happy. We played one more round, hearing details about a cake and how good the food was, then we headed upstairs to the apartment she shares with her husband.

As we were slowly shuffling out of there, my friend whispers “have you ever felt out of place?” to me. I knew she was upset about not being invited to the party. I got her upstairs and we talked it out a bit. I handled it the way I would with my kids who are both deep in the throes of middle school. First I validated her feelings. “Yes” I said, “I have felt out of place and it sucks. I’m sorry you are feeling that way.” Then I suggested a few things and gave the other people the benefit of the doubt. I said, “I don’t think they were discussing the party to make you feel bad. They were probably just rehashing the experience and not considering how it might make others feel.”

My friend was grateful but was still upset and I wanted to help her beyond this 20 minute conversation, if that is even possible. I suggested the same things I have to my daughter in similar situations. Insert yourself into the activities so you are not overlooked. Make it a point to go out and try new things. Go to dinner, bingo and think about focusing on one or two friends instead of trying to get into a larger social group.

The only thing worse than talking to your kids about the horrors of socializing in middle school….is talking to a nearly 80 year old about the same damn things. It broke me a bit but I kept it together. I gave her a hug, told her I loved her and that I would be back on Friday. Oh and I gave her a big bowl of ice cream because sometimes, ice cream gets you through the tough stuff.

 

Picture Day (I kind of hate it)

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Picture Day (I kind of hate it)

I hate picture day. I hated it when I was in school and I hate it now that I have kids. First of all – the stress. Knowing that whatever you look like on this particular day will live on in infamy is daunting. It also feels like another shakedown. Have you seen the prices? Are these head shots for some modeling agency, wth? This morning was a mother f*ckin’ disaster. It went completely off the rails and I have to own a large chunk of it.

It started off OK, almost good. Woke up at 5:55am without an alarm. I actually slept about 7 hours last night, rare. I woke my daughter up shortly after I was upright. It’s “Picture Day” so I knew my tween would want to do some extra primping and I thought the extra half hour would help. She came downstairs and asked if I could wash her PE uniform. Sure, I put it on the quick cycle and went about my morning routine. Switched it to the dryer when it was done, happy I hadn’t neglected that task.

Fast forward to 7:25 and I start making the “we need to leave in 5 minutes” announcement. My son is ready, he is always ready. He’s so punctual it’s annoying at times. 7:30 “we really need to leave” as I find evidence of the morning rush on the kitchen counter, assorted crumbs and incidentals. I give the “don’t leave raspberries wet in the container or they mold” talk. 7:32 “I’m getting in the car, we need to leave.” I hear my daughter rushing up the stairs, see her phone on the bench, pick it up. Daughter asks where her uniform is – “it’s in the dryer, come on we need to go”. I hand my daughter her cell phone as she gets ready to dive into the dryer to find her uniform, then I get in the car with my son.

7:34 my son and I are in the car, waiting. I’m getting annoyed, this shit happens too often and for the love of God it is still September. How horrible will this be in March. We really need to leave by 7:30 to guarantee we will get there on time without doing the walk of shame into the office where late arrivals need to sign in. “You need to get in the car now!” I scream it. I’m done, finished. A minute later I see my daughter dropping her backpack and I tell her just get in the car again for maybe the ninth time in 4 minutes. Then it happened “get in the f*cking car!” Yup, I lost it.

So now my kid is crying. Somehow, the lid for the hand sanitizer comes off and my daughter is struggling with it, sobbing. I rip the cord attaching the hand sanitizer to the back pack and place the bottle with it’s non-compliant lid in my door pocket to limit the mess. She’s begging me to let her fix the cap and I tell her to just wait. At this point I have visions of her wearing the hand sanitizer and my car already smells like a clinic from the stuff.

I have maybe 10 minutes to try to make this OK and I try, I really do. My daughter is crying that picture day is ruined. I tell her she looks great, her hair is spectacular. I apologize for cursing. She keeps circling back to the hand sanitizer like her life won’t be complete if she doesn’t have it. I tell her I’ll work on it when we get to a light.

I tell her she can hit reset on her day. Picture day doesn’t have to be ruined it can just be a bad 10 minutes, that’s all. We can do better, starting….now. She stops crying and tells me she couldn’t find her uniform in the dryer and I tell her it was in there. She insists it wasn’t. She laments about what she will do. I reminded her she has three options – use the one at school, sure it’s a little stinky but it is an option, this is why we have 2 sets. Borrow a friend’s who doesn’t have PE today or take the hit and lose points for not having a uniform. I will not bring the uniform to her school, she needs to learn consequences.

2 minutes from drop off, holy hell we might actually make the cut off. I didn’t get stopped at the light, it’s a minor miracle. My daughters hands are steady enough to attempt to fix the hand sanitizer so I hand it over. She fixes it but is annoyed that the cord is broken. I tell her to use the side pocket. And remind her that she has 32 other sanitizers at home…..an inconvenience is all it is.

She mentions she can’t find her phone. I say it’s OK. You know when and where I will pick you up. She’s not happy about this. I remind my kids about the book – Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day – we must have read that a hundred times. My son chimes in from the back, reminds me that we watched the movie. I honestly, don’t remember he starts to bring up a kangaroo scene and I feel like we are getting back on track, just a little. As usual I am leaning on humor to gloss over the dysfunction of my parenting. I know it’s a silly band aid but I need something to slow the flow.

By some miracle of the traffic gods we get to drop off on time. I remind my kids that I love them and say the same thing I do every day – “be nice to everybody but take crap from no one”.  And they exit the car and my daughter gives me a death stare that screams “hypocrite” and she’s not all wrong. When she gets home later we will discuss this when we are both calm and we will both suggest ways to avoid this morning’s horror show.

For the record, the PE uniform was in the dryer and her phone was at the bottom of the garage steps. So at least we know where everything is – we’ll do better tomorrow. I hope we’ll do better tomorrow.