>I Would Never Do Junior High Over Again
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When I started middle school in sixth grade, my friends and I sat across the aisle from a table of eighth grade jockettes. Out of the blue one day, their ringleader, Christa McClurg, said loudly, “Nice outfit, Lindsay! It looks like something my grandma would wear. Hey everyone, raise your hand if you think Lindsay’s outfit sucks!“
Dutifully, everyone at her table raised their hands, while my table sat in mortified silence. I had been noticed by eighth graders. For all the wrong reasons. I sat for a moment, red faced and alternating between shame (What was wrong with my outfit? Multiples bodysuits were totally in!) and weird pride (How did an eighth grader know my name?) before turning to face her.
“Thanks,” I croaked, trying to look brave as I turned back to my friends. “How many of you think we should take up a Stri-Dex collection to save Christa’s face?” Oooh. That was a zinger. Nervously, my friends raised their hands. Christa glowered at me.
For the rest of the school year, Christa and I were enemies, exchanging barbs like they were worn out copies of Teen Beat. I tried to stay tough, but inside I wondered desperately why the bitch had chosen me of all people to pick on. It was the worst part of being in sixth grade (not counting the day I wore all three of my Swatch watches to school, then got hot in PE and put them all in my lunch bag, then threw the lunch bag away only to remember an hour and a half later that the watches were still inside, then ran back to the cafeteria and ended up inside a dumpster during a thunderstorm, picking through five hundred wet half-eaten lunches. I never did find my watches either, though miraculously, I did turn up Amanda Knight’s retainer, which didn’t soften the punishment I received upon arriving home, watchless).
Mercifully, the next year Christa was on to high school and I had the next two years of junior high to myself. By the time I reached eighth grade, I was a cheerleader and sat at the popular table.
And I was nice to every freakin’ sixth grader I saw. Thanks, Christa.
>Must be something about the name Christa. I was tortured by a Christa too. No offence to any of the nice Christa’s out there!
>the name I really wouldn’t want is Rocheal. Poor girl. she is going to be sooooo glad when the list maker graduates.
>dude…..I can SO top that one. I pissed off the wrong girl in 8th grade shortly after moving back into the country and she spread rumors that I was a (gasp) lesbian…that I had been caught kissing my best friend behind the school house. It followed me for 5 freaking years. The horror, the absolute bottom of my soul ripped out, it was AWFUL. I would NEVER ever go back. I heard recently that the rumor spreader got super fat and had gastric bypass and got really fat AGAIN. I hope she chokes on a twinkie. My mom STILL has people ask if her if I am still a lesbian.For the record, I am not.But man, you are right. You just don’t wanna go back to that time. ESPECIALLY in this time.
>Thanks for that. All those horrible memories of junior high just came surging back.Back to the therapist.
>I cringed reading this. I can totally feel your pain. Unfortunately, for a while there, I was a Christa. The shame, the shame. By the time I hit high school I had learned total humility the hard way and went out of my way to say nice things and be supportive to anyone who looked as if they needed. Except to the boy that bit me. No nice words for him.I am so very proud of you for being an anti-Christa. You will never know the positive difference you made in being nice to the 6th graders.
>This made me laugh out loud! We just watched Mean Girls on TNT last night and your experience sounds just like that.
>I spent most of junior high with my nose in a book and didn’t really notice or care what was going on around me. Probably a good thing, because I remember mean people, I just could never take them seriously, they left me alone for some reason, maybe because I wasn’t afraid and they could tell that I didn’t want their approval.
>We had a hallway in our school that only seniors and select juniors could enter during the lunch hour. I had an errand one day and forgot the hallway rule and got roasted by the senior inhabitants.However one of the senior girls told me I had a ‘very cute ass’made my day!1
>When I was a tiny, soft little freshman there was this big ugly mean guy who (I heard later from semi-reliable sources) went on to a life of crime, knocking over a mini mart or some such and ending up in jail. At any rate, he was as stupid as he was huge (football player, and one of the big oafish ones). There was this freshman girl who I vaguely knew who used to hang out in this one spot in the hall with them between classes and before school. She was blond and cute and petite and the absolute antithesis of everything about me. One day as I wandered down the hall with my glasses and my braces and my acne and my frizzy hair and my ungainly tallness and my overstuffed book bag, uncoolness emanating from me in all directions, he yelled “Hey, Fire Crotch!” at me.I assumed he meant something regarding sexual activity and was quite puzzled by this since as of yet I had not engaged in such.Years later — literally, YEARS and YEARS later — it occurred to me that he was talking about my pubic hair. I am a natural redhead, and, uh, the rug matches the drapes. That skinny dumb bitch was in my PE class and must have told him (and God knows who else). Nope, there isn’t enough beer in the world for me to go back. Though it’s kinda funny now.
>Wow! Junior High. It’s just one of those things you have to get through so you can get on with your life. It’s funny that while you’re there it seems like the most important thing in the world but once your done it’s really quite silly. Like who cares if you get to sit at the cool table at BlogHer this year? Oh wait, I do. lol.
>So glad to not be in junior high again. Especially now that the kids can bully by IM.I should try to find my sixth grade journal. That’ll be riveting reading, for sure.
>Ahh Hahhah! Are you kidding me about that list of rules?School was so not like that for me.That is hilarious.
>I lived in Saudi Arabia for Jr. High. We were all in the same boat. All dropped in the desert with our families and you never knew how long you’d be there. You made friends fast and you made friends with everyone. There were cliques, but nobody was mean. If you were, you might find yourself very alone when your buddies shipped out on the next flight. Jr. High was an amazing experience – I’d say I was totally spoiled because when I came back to the US for high school it was not the way it was over seas. I decided to play high school by my jr. high rules – be nice to everyone and not let anyone be mean to me. If you are nice even when people are nasty, they can’t be nasty for long… It worked for my but YMMV…LBC
>I was a Middle School (grades 6-8) Assistant Principal, and I can tell you that the girls are the worst. Boys will have a fist fight, shake hands, and move on. Girls will spend the rest of their lives looking for ways to make their “enemies” pay.In most cases, they can’t even remember why they hate the girls. When they do, it often begins with “when we were in 3rd grade.”I would hate to be a middle school girl. That kind of stress I don’t need. Guys don’t pull your hair out in a fight. They just punch you.By the way, “Mean Girls” was right on. If you don’t believe it, spend a day in a Middle School Cafeteria, or watch a Bus Camera.
>I remember some lunch table drama at primary school. If someone left the group to sit at another table with someone else one day, the group would spend lunchtime bitching about how they wouldn’t be allowed back ever again … you know, until maybe tomorrow when some other drama was taking priority.Oh, and if you said something at the same time as someone else, they would jinx you (or vice versa) and you couldn’t speak again until someone said your full name.But there were good times too, like everyone giving me a crisp to put in my sandwich to see how many flavours we could fit into one sandwich. Ever put crisps in your sandwiches? It’s yum.
>My little sister is in sixth grade now and I try explaining to her how these people just don’t matter. Like, now you’re seeking their approval, but you are probably never going to see 90% of these kids again after graduation. I tell her “These people aren’t going to be here in ten years – what you learn will.” I never got picked on too bad. I moved a lot and learned to be friendly with everyone – until I got to high school, which then I picked on some people. I still feel bad about that, though – wrong crowd.
>I got picked on from the time I was 7 until I went to college. No fun. I was never liked. But finally, my senior year of high school, I was respected. I learned that I would much rather be respected than liked anyway, so that worked for me. Most of the people who picked on me weren’t worth being “liked by” anyway. I have to say though, I was always one to keep trying to be nice. I always invited the other kids to my birthday parties and got them gifts at Christmas. I guess it was all worth it when one day, years after it all ended, the girl who treated me the worst said to me, “You remember that note you gave me that said you forgave me when we were 10? I still have it. Do you still forgive me?”I was nice to everybody. I still am. You never know when it will make a difference in how somebody feels about themselves. I look people in the eye. I smile. I compliment people when there is something nice I can say. It’s real. It’s the way I’ve always been, and I will never stop.
>I would definitely not relive my junior high or early high school days. Things got better when I lost my braces, cut my hair, and got boobs. But girls can be incredibly cruel. Oh the drama! Ugh.
>I was tortured by a wench like that too – her name was Susan though. I still would like to rip each one of her toenails off. I could never figure out why she did that.And it just makes me so scared for my daughters in the future. My 4th grader is going through hell with a couple of classmates this year – so much so that I emailed the teacher. I wasn’t thrilled with taking it into my own hands, but seeing your daughter come home crying her eyes out is no f’ing fun.
>There is nothing worse than girls in Junior High. Seriously. I agree with you, I would NEVER do that again. Good for you for standing up for yourself!
>jr high sucked. I moved from the city to the country, in the summer before seventh grade, real, small town country, and had four people to talk to, all transplants. My problem was, I didn’t get all the new rules. The fashion was wrong. The attitude was wrong. I’ll never forget this little blonde curly thing named Denise. She had it in for me because GASP her pretend boyfriend liked me. Well, her pretend boyfriend was cute, but I didn’t know she had a crush on him. Anyhow, I blamed it on cultural differences, ignored as much of it as I could, and we moved the following summer to my immense joy.
>In my area junior high meant only 7th & 8th grades. 6th grade was still at the elementary schools-which I think is a very good idea. 6th grade was hell since I was so overweight. By 7th grade I had attended a weight loss camp and dropped 25 pounds. That made 7th & 8th grade a lot easier. With my memory still fresh from the barbs in 6th grade, I think I was kind to everyone. Although, if I could find that guy who kept grabbing my private parts in the hall in 7th grade, I’d kick his ass. Even if it meant a trip to the po-po station. I’d be worth it…even 20 years later.
>On the COVER of our yearbook in Jr high one year, there was a picture (in fairness, it was one of several, but still) of a guy (now a urologist) grabbing a girl’s titty (now a paralegal at my firm– the girl, not the tit, tho she brings it with her).She was mortified!I still don’t know who was in charge of “proofing” the yearbook.
>Boy did this post bring back the nightmares.I was known as the Carpenter’s Dream for three years.Flat as a board and never been nailed….
>What in the HAIL is that list up there? Is that for realz?I’ve got to say these horrendous stories of jr. high remind me why public school does not = great socialization.That being said, I’m TOTALLY going to establish ridiculous social scenarios for my own little homeschool kids during lunch… “Sorry son. You can’t sit with us today. Cool girls only. Raise your hand if you think Charlie is a LOSER!”
>Just junior high? I wouldn’t go back to ANY of my school years again. Though I may as well be, since I am raising two middle-schoolers.
>”Love your neighbor,” but “Don’t talk to Rocheal.” Geez.
>I wish that I could go back in time with all the snappy responses that I didn’t think of at that moment in lunchroom hell….