Freeing Our Kids of Our Baggage
On remembering middle school and watching my kid go through it
Staring into a mirror in the hallway of my children’s elementary school, I saw my adult self, but also all of the younger versions of me who had walked hallways like that. I blinked and recapped all of the challenges, the confusion and frustration of that time. That was at my older son’s kindergarten orientation.
Now, six years later, I get a similar sense of deja vu walking through his middle school. So many things are different from my junior high school - different books in the library, more diverse student population, a slightly less depressing building - and yet so much is the same. With my older son soon finishing sixth grade and entering seventh next year, the weight of him being in his state of life hangs heavy on me.
No one enjoys middle school. Even people who liked high school slogged through middle school for the most part. Just surviving it is an accomplishment.
For me, seventh grade was the worse year of my life, most likely followed by eighth grade and sixth grade. Almost every lonely, mega-cringy moment of my life was shoved into those three years. Having a bully shove gum in my hair? Check. Having to attend a self-esteem class like in the show Daria? Check. Having an insult delivered to me in front of a group of far more popular kids that was so cruel that I still cringe visibly when I think about it? Check. Mistakenly insulting a friend so badly that he refused to talk to me for two years? Check. Getting kicked off the swim team that was my only source of friends and socialization? Check. And so many more.
To have my kid be in middle school is an invitation to have these feelings come flooding back. I had avoided it for the most part this year - mainly because he seemed to be doing okay and we were focused on keeping his academic responsibilities straight.
But something about the fact that he’s going to be entering seventh grade just unleashed those feelings all over again. It doesn’t help that my face keeps breaking out from stress due to <gestures to current events>, another unfortunate reminder of that time in my life.
In the midst of this midlife angst - let’s be realistic, I never outgrew pretentious angst - I have to remind myself over and over again that my kid is not me. He has a very different personality, different schoolmates, and it’s a different time. I can sympathize and listen to him. I can have some idea of what he’s going through. But I can never truly understand and experience it myself.
That’s a good thing. It’s a good thing that he will make his own mistakes, have his own relationships, and be his own person. God knows the world doesn’t need another 13-year-old me.
So much of being a parent is recognizing your child’s own unique gifts, experiences, and perspectives. Forcing either our dreams or fears upon them is unhealthy and unfair - to them and us. Middle school may be hard for him, but I’ll do my best to be a steady support, no matter what my own baggage is.
The current administration is proposing drastic cuts to Medicaid. Medicaid provides medical care to retirees, low-income people, disabled people, and children in foster care. Cutting it will hurt so many people who are already vulnerable. The Autistic Self-Advocacy Network has good resources on how to protect Medicaid.