The Soundtrack Of My Life, The Buck Stops Here

Well, it's been busy in here. Battle of the Bands. Insecure Writer's Support Group. All the while, I've maintained my Soundtrack posts.

However, I owe you some Battle of the Bands results before we get on to our Soundtrack post for today. The song was I Still Believe. The challengers were The Call vs. Tim Cappello.

The Call: 6

Tim Cappello: 17

 As you can see, the version from the Lost Boys won this one handily. All 6 of you who voted for The Call... THANK YOU. Not just for preventing a shut-out, but for giving the nod to a version of the song that meant so much to me. So, obviously, my vote, though it makes no difference, is for The Call. I simply cannot vote against a song that was so powerful in my youth. This song really helped me through some of those Dark Nights of the Soul. I appreciate the TC version (and like it). I dig the sax and understand why so many of you chose it. But it wasn't  the version of the song that kept my head above water in a difficult time.

Now, let's move on to a GOOD high school story. Yeah, you read that correctly... a good high school story.

I went to one of four junior high schools that fed into one high school. So many problems in junior high were magnified by the economic disparity between the low income kids and the richest kids in town. That all changed in high school. The other three junior highs rounded out the economic situation so that those rich kids now made up approximately 15% of the student body (as opposed to 55% or more of the junior high student body). Instead of money being the thing that divided and conquered, kids now were more inclined to choose their friends based on mutual interests. 

It was a whole new ballgame.

Though I didn't know that YET. 

Date: 1st day of 10th grade

Time: Before school started

Place: Outside looking for home room

My high school was so large that it was laid out college campus style. There were many buildings all labeled by letter. To a new person, it was all very overwhelming and confusing. 

So there I am walking along looking for E building (just passed C and D, respectively) and anticipate that E will be the next one. Out of the blue, my bully (the girl who threatened to pour juice on my head in home economics... you gotta remember her... she was the one who told me I was "nobody in that school") comes up alongside me and starts talking to me. Yep, talking. Not ridiculing, mocking, berating or threatening. Talking. Nervous talking about the buildings. I think she said something like, "Do you know where you're going?" But I can't say for certain because I went into shock. 

Then it dawned on me: My last name began with "R" and hers with "S." That biotch was lost and thought I could help her get to her homeroom. Not only was she lost, but she was lost, scared, and holy freakin' moly... INSECURE.

Since I felt fairly confident about the location of E building, a myriad of things hit me simultaneously. 1) She's not very bright, 2) She's afraid and insecure, 3) She thinks I'm pretty damn smart.

And I looked at her differently in that moment. And she saw me look at her differently. And we both knew that she would never bully me again (and she didn't). I knew her secret. She was more insecure than I was and not half as smart. 

I really wish I'd known that three years previously. But I thanked the Good Lord I knew it that first day. It changed everything for me. I entered E building with a bounce in my step that no one could take away.

It tasted like freedom. Sweet, sweet freedom.




Did you ever have a light bulb moment in high school? When did you realize that bullies are just tiny, scared people trying to make themselves feel big by making you feel small?

If you're enjoying these posts, feel free to share your own Soundtrack. This isn't a hop. No requirements at all, but a suggestion to do it one song at a time. (If you participated in the hop several years ago, you can still do this. Just post them one song at a time, with the freedom to add more songs if you'd like.) I'll link to all participants at the bottom of each of these posts:

StMcC Presents BATTLE OF THE BANDS

DAY 29: WHAT YOU WANT TO SAY, BUT CAN'T

Dear C-Man and H-Girl,

I wish that I could tell you all of the secrets about how to get through middle school and high school without getting emotionally scarred. Unfortunately, I can't. It isn't because I don't want to, but because I just don't know how to protect you from those landmines. I wish I could say that I had the answers because I once was in middle school and high school. However, things have changed. I never once worried about getting shot, stabbed, or physically hurt at school. In junior high I was under emotional and verbal assault daily, and that was very traumatic. However, I never felt forced to try drugs or sell drugs. I never had to walk through a metal detector to get in or out of school. Teachers still had control over their classrooms and paddling was allowed. Just knowing that you could get paddled made paddling virtually unnecessary. In my three years of junior high school, only one instance of paddling actually took place. That news spread like wildfire through the hallways. I am sure that the echoes of that paddling squashed future bad behavior for at least another three years. That kid probably got another paddling when he got home.

When I was in school, the parents picked up where the school left off, instead of raking the teachers over the coals for not giving their kid preferential treatment and other b.s. Taking the threat of paddling out of the school system is one of the worst things that they have done to you. I know that you might not see that right now. But, it has allowed kids to take over the school. And that is why they felt confident enough to smuggle in knives. And the parents supported their kid's bad behavior. And then it was guns. And now it is out of control. And everyone is pointing the finger at everyone else. It all went to hell when the parents took the power away from the teacher to discipline the kids in school. The threat of a paddling used to be enough to hold everything in check. Now it is all flying fast and loose. We need the police to guard the doors and monitor the metal detectors.

C-Man, things are different for you because you go to a fine arts magnet school. You aren't dealing with that sort of crap. Everyone must have top-notch grades and an interest in art, dance, or theatre to be there. (I would have loved going to your school.) I love the fact that you love the theatre and are leaning in that direction. You are taking Theatre 2 this year and Stagecraft to learn all about the backstage stuff. It is easier for me to help you with your "problems" because they are more like what my problems would have been. How do I prepare for this part? What monologue do I choose? Is this over the top or not enough? You are also writing short stories already and they are good. You understand how to write dialogue. Wow. That shocks me whenever I read your stuff. The things that will break your heart will be not getting the part that you know you were meant for and that will hurt so much. Or it will be the girl in drama who is just a friend but that you want to be more. I know how that feels. These are the problems that I can relate to, but I have no idea how to overcome them. I ran those same circles myself. It is ground I know well. All I can say to you is to do the best you can with what you have. That pain of not getting the girl will work for you in some other part somewhere down the line. Remember that feeling so that you can channel it later. It will be amazing how it will come right back on demand. I am sorry I don't have anything more to make your life better. They call it schooling for a reason.

H-Girl, we have not talked since the last letter I wrote you. I have thought about you a great deal since then. I have weighed this against that and tried to sort out what I think is going on. In some ways you are like your brother. If you were going to a magnet school, you would also be very involved in theatre. You tend to imitate whoever you are around. When you came to live with us, you were the diplomat. You felt it was your job to soothe C-Man because he got so angry. He was so angry because he couldn't stop the abusive situation he had been living in. He was already feeling it was his job as the oldest son to protect his mother. Of course, that was impossible. He was four years old. So, he got angry. And your biological mother did what she could to protect her children from her husband even if it meant taking the hits. She was the diplomat. She tried to soothe the angry man. And that is what you did when C-Man got angry. Your job was to try and soothe the angry little boy.

When he became less angry, you then started to become more like me. You were the person who was very aware of what was going on at all times. You knew who was where when. You were the little mom. You were my thoughtful, sensitive to others, gentle spirit of a child. Now you have been living with your dad for the last five years and you have become like him. I see that now. The reason you don't know how to do your school work is because you have manipulated your brother into doing it for you. You have been taking lessons from your dad on how to get things done. You are a quick study. The thing is that it isn't serving you well. I cannot fix this for you. You are surrounded by landmines. I cannot even tell your father how this has happened because it will force him to look in the mirror and see that you have merely copied his bad behavior. My previous line of thought was that you would have to carry a terrible burden when you understood as an adult that you manipulated and bullied your way through school. Now I understand that manipulative adults didn't just become that way all of a sudden. It was a learned behavior that started in childhood. What happens to that childhood bully on the playground? They become a manipulative bully as an adult. Of course they do. Unless a force bigger than them steps in and forces them to change their path, that is exactly what happens.

I am so sorry H-Girl, because there is nothing that I can say that will change your circumstances. Your father has tied my hands as far as what I can do. You would have to come live with me for me to make the difference, and your dad has already said "No" to that more than once. On top of that, even if I got a "Yes" now, you have spent the last five years mirroring how to manipulate someone to get what you want. It would take me several stressful years before you accepted that I don't play that. My body can't tolerate that stress. Your dad nearly killed me with the stress he doled out, and I bet you have taken his skills and maximized them. You always were street smart. You are running rings around your father and he doesn't even know it.

The only thing I know to say to you is this: look at how empty your father's life is. People don't like being manipulated. Eventually they realize you are pulling their strings and they leave. Not only do they leave, but they leave mad. You can continue to model after him, but your life will look exactly like his. It will be empty. People will do your bidding until they figure out what is going on and then they will walk away. Right now all you are seeing is how much fun it is to yank everyone's chain and watch them perform for you. If you are going to continue to model after your father, you need to look closer. He drives everyone he loves away from him. I wish I could tell you that, but you are going to have to figure it out for yourself. It is going to be one of those really painful lessons. Unlike your father, I hope you understand what you're doing and make the changes so that you can actually have a life with real people in it who love you.

I love you both, forever and always.

Love,
Mom


image purloined from Miss Angie at My So-Called Chaos

DAY 26: DEAR PINKY PROMISE

Dear H-Girl,

I don't know how to make your world better. Your grades are not good. That is an understatement. Your grades are terrible. However, this is not a surprise. Your grades have been moving in a downward spiral for years. I have been telling your father that it is an unreasonable expectation for your math grade to improve when you still don't understand the math from the previous two grades. It all builds on the principles that were not learned in the preceding grades. The fact that you are unable to do the work is not a surprise to me at all. When your dad moved during this summer, changing school districts, I told him that this would be an excellent opportunity to allow you to repeat 5th grade without anyone knowing. You would already be going to a totally new school.

As usual, he didn't listen to me, and enrolled you in the 6th grade. So, you were not only in a new school district, but you were in middle school. A new school. Middle school. And you still didn't understand 4th grade math. Your reading skills were also hovering in the 4th-5th grade range, and everyone is puzzled about why you are failing in all of your classes. Everyone but me. I know why you're failing. You don't understand what you're reading in any of your classes and the math is WAY over your head.

This academic disaster is compounded by the fact that both of your brothers are "A" students. C-Man is so smart that your father is going to let him take the SAT in January just to see how he scores on it. He tested so well on something at his school that his teachers think that he will test as well as most seniors in high school. He is in the 7th grade. Therefore, it is not surprising that you dis C-Man at every opportunity. In fact, I get the sense that you try to make him feel left out on the sibling wheel. You and J-Man are the cool brother-sister act and C-Man is just not cool. It makes you feel better. Fortunately, I think that C-Man has a healthy self-esteem and can take your abuse.

However, it makes me wonder what is going on at your school. I ask your dad and he says that you aren't talking about school to anyone. Everyone has tried to get you to open up and they aren't getting anywhere. You won't talk about your classes, classwork, teachers, friends, nothing. The grades are telling the story about your classes. You are not getting it. I have gotten a glimmer of how you treat people that you feel threatened by (i.e. your brother) and that wasn't a pretty picture. I let you know that you could talk to me about anything, and we would keep it just between us. We sealed the deal with a pinky promise. However, I haven't heard anything from you.

All of this has me very worried. H-Girl, you are pretty, probably popular, and I've been on the receiving end of some of your hurtful verbal jabs. Please tell me that you aren't that mean girl that is slicing and dicing other girls in your class to make you feel better about you. My "mom" radar is buzzing very loudly that this is a strong possibility, and I am so worried for you. This will be a terrible burden to carry some day.

I love you. I really want my sensitive, sweet girl back.

Love,
Me


image pillaged from Miss Angie at My So-Called Chaos

I DIDN'T EVEN NEED A SLINGSHOT

My high school was huge. It was more like a college campus than a high school. All of the junior high schools dumped into the public high school, so it had to be big. I can't remember how many buildings there were, but they were lettered and I think you had five minutes to change classes because sometimes you had quite a walk. The campus was really quite beautiful at certain times of year, and treacherous at others (i.e. winter when it was icy). It turns out I was also really terrible about leaving my umbrella under my chair in a class during the rainy season; it would quit raining during the day and it got left behind. Therefore, every Christmas I got something like five umbrellas. Ridiculous.

As you might imagine, the first day of school was intimidating. I was walking along looking for my homeroom building, and feeling very lost like 300+ other people, when the miracle happened. ::Wait for it:: Kellie popped up beside me. My first instinct was terror, but then she started chatting me up like we were best buddies. My next feeling was confusion. Then came understanding. My last name started with "R" and hers with "S." She, too, was lost and she believed that I was smarter, so she was sticking to me, so that I could help her get to her homeroom. That made me feel enormously better. That day I looked at Kellie for the first time with new eyes and I saw what she never wanted me to see: insecurity. The kicker was that she knew that I knew her secret. That day was the last she and I ever spoke.

I was free.


image found at www.weheartit.com

THE WTF FACTOR AND INSPIRATIONAL SONGS

Yeah, I know that they don't seem to go together, but I have managed to make this work. Don't ask me how, because I couldn't do it again.

Well... all of you who commented on yesterday's blog gave me something to think about. I am not oblivious to the fact that bullies exist everywhere. In fact, one of my Wilson facebook sufferers, Cathy, told me that she discovered while she was doing that helping out in kindergarten business stuff (why can't I think of the names of things???), that there was already one kindergarten girl bullying the others. She was like WTF is going on here? So, apparently they aren't waiting for middle school and junior high anymore. As soon as they get into school, let the torture begin. Since Cathy got it so bad in junior high (worse than I actually, but I didn't know that until FB), that little girl is lucky Cathy didn't dropkick her right there on the playground. I am not sure how you would explain that, but I guess if you planned it long enough, you could come up with something creative. Maybe there is a novel in there somewhere...

"She was only five and she was already a bitch. That gleam was in her eye, indicating that she was picking out her next victim on the playground. It was anyone's guess what form of torture she planned to inflict. It was uncanny. There was the mind of a thirteen year old in a kindergartner. She batted those baby blues innocently after each incident of another child taking a fall, running into a pole, getting sand in their eyes, their lunch in their laps, and teachers were hard pressed to believe it could be anything but an accident." Oh yeah, that kid is the next Bonnie to Clyde. I hope her parents are real asshats. Otherwise, my sympathies.

Oops. I realized that I just said ass again. Now, that makes it twice. And bitch. That's even worse. Quitting cursing isn't as easy as it sounds. In theory, no problemo. In writing, very hard. In talking, pretty easy. I don't say a whole lot around here. Besides, I like the word asshat. Damn. I did it again. Now I just said damn. And again. Eeeks. I better move on.


Today, is inspirational music day. When I was lying in bed NOT SLEEPING, I was thinking about today's post. My migraines have been bad the last week or so. I think that maybe it's the rain. Maybe I'm hormonal. Maybe it's the fact that I breathe in and out. Who knows? And I am still liking the idea of a video/song that I find inspiring on some level right now, and a video or group from the 80s that really worked MTV. Let's start with the former.

I have been thinking a lot about Billy Joel's song WE DIDN'T START THE FIRE. The video is actually pretty good. However, that is not why the song is on my brain. It has occurred to me that had he wanted to, he could have picked any decade to start that song, and had plenty of material. Yep. Any decade. He could have started BC if he wanted to do the research. Of course, the song would have been really long, and most people would not have known WHAT he was SINGING about. That is because, I repeat, people are stupid. I am throwing myself in on this one. I would have been like, say what? What is he yammering about? Of course, I was a teenager. Well, I am still not up on my history BC by the decade. Or AD for that matter. My point is that he could have started in 1800 and gone by the decade, and still had plenty of material. 1700. 1600. 1500. It doesn't matter when he started. He could decide that he wanted to add on to that song RIGHT NOW and he would have loads of material. I guess he knew that, because he ended the song by saying that the fire wasn't ever going to go out.

The only thing that he doesn't say that he should have said, in my opinion, is that maybe we didn't start the fire, BUT, we sure do keep throwing the gas on it. Or oil. Each decade contributes to the fire. And we are part of the decade. Granted, some of us are contributing more than others. Instead he says we try to fight it. Well, some of us try to fight it, but lots of people are throwing stuff on it, because it seems to me that it is getting bigger, rather than smaller. But that is just my opinion. Or maybe it has always been huge and my perspective has broadened. I don't know. It just seems like it's a damn big fire. Oops. I said the "d" word again. Let's start the video. Don't forget to turn off my music player at the bottom of the page. Sorry about that.




Okay, once again, you are going to have to rely on my unreliable brain because I am just not going to look this stuff up. Ha ha. I know that is crappy. But, I am not presenting myself as an authority on this subject; I am just telling you what I think. I think that some singers/bands really used MTV as a launching pad for their music and some didn't. How do I know this? Well, I spent hours doing my homework in front of MTV waiting for this band to come on. I am confessing my teenage crush here. My mother bought cork strips so that I had two rows on one wall to hang pictures of said crush. How did I get pictures of this crush? Tiger Beat magazine, of course. My humiliation is now complete. Every now and then some other cutie would hang up there temporarily, but pretty much all of my space went to John Taylor of Duran Duran. Ugggh. I feel naked.


My friend, Megan, was pretty convinced that he was gay. Yes, that is the same Megan who owned the Ford Mustang. She has excellent radar for this sort of thing. However, it didn't matter. There's this part of me that wants to do the Seinfeld bit: "Not that there's anything wrong with that." And there isn't, unless you're actually in a relationship with a real-life guy, and you strongly suspect he's gay. In that case, he isn't the guy for you. In this case, the reason it didn't matter was that I was a teenager who lived in the middle of Ohio. Hello. He was a MAN in his 20s and a ROCKSTAR. Even if had been heterosexual (and maybe he is) my chances were like...none. So, seriously, his straightness, or lack thereof, meant absolutely nothing to me. Then and now.

Can you guess what the most frustrating part of having a crush on John Taylor was? Aside from age and geography and my lack of being rich and a rockstar? The fact that he was the guitar player. Egads. Do you know how much face time the guitar player gets in a video? Well, just a little bit more than the drummer. It is ALWAYS better to crush on the singer. However, Simon did nothing for me. He was a great singer, but he did not ring my bell.

Okay, let's get back to Duran Duran and their video making. This is actually something that they picked up on and ran with, in terms of creativity. I think that one of their most creative videos is Rio. Unfortunately, there are almost no shots of.... wait for it.... John Taylor. Yeah, back in the day, this was a big disappointment if I had been waiting three hours for a DD video and I got this video. However, it is an excellent example of a band taking a great song and making an equally great video. It got a lot of play (take it from me) on MTV.

Click here to watch the video. It wouldn't embed.

That is always so annoying. Oh well. Unfortunately, just about all of the Duran Duran vids are not embedding. This one is not very original. It is an in concert vid that they used for The Reflex. However, it was my favorite b/c I actually got to see JT sometimes...lol.

You can click here to watch it.

He is the guitar player with the blonde streaks. He is also standing most of the time to Simon's right (our left). He doesn't make my heart go pitter pat anymore. I just laugh at myself. That is yet another sign of growing up I think!


I found the picture of John Taylor here.

The rest of the images were found at www.weheartit.com

JUST GIVE ME A WORD

Invisibility. I've been thinking about it a lot lately. I know it doesn't have anything to do with the baggage that I pulled out from under my bed, opened up and examined closely for the first time in years, and then wrote about in an extensive blog, and then took one step further, and sent Right Guy an email to the address of said blog, hoping that he would read it. My phone has been deadly quiet. My email says that "I don't have mail." Invisibility.

Do you remember that scene from MY BIG FAT GREEK WEDDING when the (Greek) father is driving his children to school (and I think one of their friends) and he says, "Give me a word, any word, and I will show you that the root of that word is Greek?" I don't remember the words. But they kept tossing words out and the kids kept doing these eyerolls because he was clearly flying by the seat of his pants and making crap up. It was hilarious. But, to him, everything = Greek. The more I thought about it, the more I had to put it in here. It is less than a minute and it is too funny. For any newbies, go down to the bottom of my page and kill the sound on my music player. Sorry for the inconvenience.



For me everything bad = junior high school. I feel like that guy right now. Give me a bad experience or negative emotion, any bad experience, and I can give you a junior high school experience. I dare ya. Bring it. I'll start. Invisibility. In theory, invisibility could be a good thing if you had control over it and could turn it off and on. It could be a superpower. It could make you a superhero.

Invisibility. For those of you who are new to this blog, we had moved to Ohio from Florida, and I had gone to 6th grade at the local elementary school. However, that experience really didn't help me blend. My best friend was still the girl down the street who had gone to Catholic school for elementary school. However, she was going to go to the public junior high school. There was another girl on the next street over that I knew from elementary school, so before school started I suggested that we all walk together. It was actually a rather long walk to the junior high. Within days, the two of them became fast friends. The year and a half of bonding between me and my friend from down the street disappeared like *that.* After about a week, they let me walk behind them, but not with them. It is true what they say: three is a crowd.

I made other friends at school and left those girls behind. I don't regret that and I wouldn't change it. The friends that I made were *good* people. We had common interests and they were smart girls who turned into smart women. I didn't have a lot of friends, but they were quality friends. I will take quality over quantity any day of the week. I also had one bully and a bunch of people who may or may not have known my name. I wasn't exactly popular.


Invisibility. I do only have one male blog reader, right? Bathwater is pretty hard-core. I think he can take this and be okay. And since I'm invisible, it's no skin off my nose. It's ninth grade. Nope. Can't start there. Although, that is when this "event" actually happened. All girls want to get their period. I don't understand this NOW. But it is true. I was gleeful when I got mine. Was I insane? Yes, I do believe I was. Anyway, it came and then it went. For like a year. And after that it was really sporadic for a couple of years. In other words, in junior high school, the most dreaded years of life, I never knew when my period was coming, because it has no timetable. It could be gone for months at a time. I think you now see where this story is going.

Now, about that day in 9th grade... It was algebra class and I was wearing white pants. Yep. I said white pants. The teacher was big into having kids go to the chalkboard and solve problems. Heck, that was commonplace in every math class I had all through high school. I don't remember working my problem out at the board, but I know that I did. Afterwards, Kris (a girl), leans over to me and says, "John says that you've started your period." Is there anything more mortifying than this? No. I had to have turned red all the way to my hairline. I gathered up all of my stuff and did not say a word to the teacher. I backed out of class and just left. I didn't even ask for a hall pass. I JUST LEFT. I never do that. He must have been stunned. I wouldn't have been a bit surprised if he asked what happened and Kris announced to the class that, "John noticed that she got her period." She was a classy girl.

My dad came and picked my up. Again, where was my mother? I remember pacing the backyard after changing my clothes. I think I was talking to myself and shouting at God. My neighbor, Robin, comes out of her house and inquires about what I am doing. She got the rundown. I finish it up with, "I can't go back there EVER. I just can't." We both know I have to go back. She then tells me some story of hers that was kinda sorta the same and I go back to school. I got some looks, but no one said anything. Nada. Nothing.

I haven't thought about that story in a long time. Either one actually. They both are junior high and both relate directly back to invisibility. The first is two people who wanted me to feel invisible, and the second is a time when I wanted to be invisible, and then we could talk about how I felt invisible as a a general rule, which would make for a third story.

However, I keep thinking about what Kris said to me that day. She could have just told me that my period had started. That is what I would have done. The thing is that John probably did say something to her, and maybe she didn't see it for herself, so she didn't feel comfortable passing along information that she didn't know to be true. Or she just wanted me to feel worse. Either way, chances are really, really good that John did tell her that my period had started. At the time, that was horrifying. Now... John was really hot. And he was checking out my ass. How else would he have noticed that my period had started? Perhaps, this very dark cloud does have a silver lining.

I still maintain my original theory. Every bad experience = junior high school. Just give me a word.

IT WENT DOWN JUST LIKE THIS...

I have an unwritten list of topics for blogs. Do you have one of those? Some of the things on my list are pretty straightforward, meaning one-time events. Others are a bit more complicated. They are people. Important people. They are more ambiguous because I know that they aren't really one blog, they are probably lots of blogs, and I am not really sure how to tackle them. I thought about it ~ again ~ today and decided that probably a general introduction and then one story at a time. Kind of like my mom blogs. She comes up a lot. And I don't give you the low-down on her every time.


The summer between sixth and seventh grade, one of my mom's best friends from high school moved out from California with her husband and daughter back to Ohio. They stayed with us until they found a house to buy. Turns out they bought the house right next door to ours. My mom's friend's name was Robin, too. That gets confusing sometimes in the storytelling. Or not. Robin and my mom are nothing alike. It was probably why they were such good friends in high school. Robin knew stuff. My mom didn't know stuff. Knowing stuff is good. It's good to know people who know stuff. What I am saying here is that Robin was street smart and my mom wasn't, isn't and never will be. I take after mom. That is a good and bad thing.

I trust people. You can lie to me over and over again and I believe you. It takes about ten times of me catching you in bald faces lies before I start to get that YOU ARE A LIAR. Seriously. Robin can listen to you lie the first time and her bullshit button goes off. I'm all ready to buy that story and she'll pull me to the side and say, "That person is lying. That is bullshit." She was always right. It's too bad I couldn't take her on all my first dates. But that would have meant a lot of traveling for her and it probably would have been a bit uncomfortable, but I would have saved myself a WHOLE BUNCH OF HEARTACHE. Moving on...


Anyway, seventh grade was awful. I have already covered junior high school and how sucky it was ad nauseum. Robin made it better. I spent a lot of time (and I mean A LOT) in her living room bemoaning whatever dire situation was going down at school. She would get the play by play and then I would wait for the what do I do to fix this? I don't remember specifics because this was a day to day ritual. It was that bad. I have no doubt that she probably told me to stand up to the girl who was bullying me and I told her, "No way Jose." Well, then it became duck and cover. Of course, the coward does die a thousand deaths and the brave man only once. This is true. Although she was a mean bitch and might very well have killed me outright. But, my pain would have ended. I am not joking. Well, sorta joking. I do know that Robin made the pain of junior high more bearable. Even if she didn't actually fix anything, she sat and listened to all of it. It takes a strong person to listen to the same old crap day after day and not just slap the kid sitting there crying about their terrible life. But, she did it. And I never got slapped once. I have to hand it to her. That was pretty awesome. And she fixed what she could. She did give me some pretty stellar advice. I am saving that up for future blogs.


I spent some time thinking about why I didn't take this junior high stuff to my mother. My mom and I have become very good friends as adults and I would say that she has been my best friend for a long time now. She is the person that I call first for good and bad news. Then, I remembered my first bad incident in junior high, and how I took it to mom. She didn't take it well. She looked like she was ready to make an appointment with the principal of the school, call in that girl and her mother and scratch off both of their faces. Egads. And she had no advice whatsoever. Like I said, mom wasn't street smart at all. I went to see Robin. I had two problems. What do I about my situation at school and at home? My mom is ready to scrape the faces off of two people she doesn't know and I still have this girl at school giving me grief. Robin said my mom would cool down and her nails weren't sharp enough for that (or something like that). She was right. The girl at school... well she was an ongoing issue. But, I stopped telling mom about stuff at school.

When my ex's kids came to live with us, I got a taste of how that felt. C-Man did fine socially at school. But H-girl, who was a year younger had a tougher time making friends. She was shy and just didn't feel confident about approaching other kids and talking to them. Pre-K and Kindergarten were hard on us both. I really thought that by kindergarten in the same school she would have made some friends. In kindergarten, H-girl was getting in trouble for talking during class. When the note from teacher came home, our conversation went something like this:

Me: What is this about?

Her: I am only talking because I am trying to get someone to play with me at recess.

Me: Why don't you ask someone at recess?

Her: Because they already have picked people to play with by then and no one will play with me.

Me: (about to cry) Why don't you ask to join in?

Her: I've tried and they won't let me play with them.

Me: ( really close to crying and feeling the migraine start to pound) So what do you do?

Her: I just sit on the bench and cry.

Me: (ready to call the principal and set up an appt with parents and kids for some face scraping) Why don't you talk to your teacher at recess (knowing this is lame as I'm saying it) and see if she can help.

Her: What is she going to do?

Me: (yeah that was lame alright) I'm so sorry. (rethinking appt with principal. Now ready to drive down at recess tomorrow ~ surprise ~ and kick a bunch of kids across the playground wearing the highest heels I have. Well that's maybe an inch and a half, but it will still hurt.)

An hour later, I decided that beating up a bunch of kindergarteners wasn't a good idea. Plus, I had a raging migraine and couldn't get out of bed, so I had to scrap that plan. But, I kept thinking this isn't supposed to be happening in kindergarten. Kids shouldn't have to go through this crap until middle school and junior high. And, seriously it sucks that they have to go through it then, but it seems to be this rite of passage that no one escapes. That thought is followed by the one that parents are completely unable to solve these problems. However, I did have a greater understanding for my mother's reaction to my story. She was too close to it. Happily, H-girl did integrate better as she got older and became less shy. In fact, she is now so social that her grades are not where they should be because she spends too much time talking. And it isn't because she's trying to arrange a playdate at recess. So, she has bounced back from this trauma more than successfully. However, she is about to go to middle school... God help us all.