Eighth Grade: A Time and A Place

I find myself in a slightly reminiscent mood these past few weeks, noting that our eighth graders are about to leave their Middle School home. While I am not in a puddle of tears over this reality, I realize that these young adults are, in many ways, truly clueless as to the joys of what it means to be at this stage in their respective lives. Aside from the sheer physical and social awkwardness of being an eighth grader, I only wish I could capture these students’ innocence, optimism, and how truly unjaded they are at this moment. While they may feign a sense of social and emotional maturity that they think appropriate for a high school senior, they don’t yet know enough to adopt the smugness of an 18-year-old.

As if to reinforce this point, I recently watched a wonderful 9-minute video “H.A.G.S. (Have a Good Summer)” produced by young film maker Sean Wang. Wang notes that this film intends to “revisit a more innocent time in my life: middle school in Fremont, California. Flipping through my yearbook made me curious about how old friends who signed “H.A.G.S.” (Have A Good Summer) … were handling adulthood and the uncertainty about the future — so I decided to call them and find out.” Wang’s video reveals the time-worn truth about growing older: “you don’t have any perspective on how quickly your life moves … until after it has passed you by.” In speaking with some of his old eighth grade friends, Wang reveals their recollections of how bold, happy, daring, and naïve they were at the age of 14. One of his friends notes that he wrote in his eighth grade yearbook, “Being an eighth grader means taking on a whole new responsibility. I’m a boss!”

I swoon when I think about this eighth grader’s sense of invincibility. For me, this is what it means to work with Middle Schoolers. We want to foster their hopes and dreams, empowering them to believe they can do anything and everything. However, we also know that there will come a day when they realize that they can’t change the world by themselves; it takes hard work, long hours, and many (many) tears to become a responsible and happy adult. This is not to say that being a 14-year-old is easy work; I am fully aware that many children at this stage in their development are faced with truly difficult social and emotional issues. I firmly believe that when I was an eighth grader during the 1972-73 school year, I was not facing powerful forces that could truly disrupt the foundations of my world (read social media, AI, global warming, and any other current global disrupters here).

However, at this point in the school year, I have to willfully remind myself of the pure joy of what it means to be a Middle Schooler. They are stuck in an in-between realm where they can think and act in ways that might appear mature, but they have not yet developed the understanding and awareness in trying to figure out that “who I am” is a question that will persist long into adulthood. Attending the end-of-year seventh and eighth grade dance is such a secret thrill for me, as I get to watch our students awkwardly enter Founders Hall at 7 p.m. in their choice of “formal attire.” Yet, by 7:30 p.m., a pile of high heels is thrown to the corner, and not one shirt collar remains buttoned as kids run around the room, screaming in delight as the latest pop song blasts out of the DJ’s speakers. Rows and rows of kids line dancing to “Cotton Eye Joe,” boys hugging and jumping together, girls holding hands and running around in circles, and only a handful of daring couples slow dancing in Frankenstein-like embraces with at least 6 inches of space between them. This type of innocence, joy, and exuberance for life is what makes working with Middle Schoolers so amazing. They are rightfully oblivious to what awaits them, ignorant of the harsh realities of the world that exist just beyond the doors of this dance hall. They are “the boss,” and they are reveling in this fact for now.

One of my annual rituals at this time of year is to re-watch Rob Reiner’s 1986 classic coming-of-age movie, “Stand By Me.” While there is so much to love about this film, my favorite scene is when the four boys sit around the campfire, and the narrator comments, “We talked into the night. The kind of talk that seemed important until you discovered girls.” The boys’ questions and comments are such innocent, Middle School appropriate ones: “If I could only have one food for the rest of my life, that’s easy. PEZ, cherry flavored PEZ … “Wagon Train” is a really cool show. But did you ever notice that they never get anywhere? They just keep wagon-training.” Yet, the most moving part of the film arrives at the very end, when the narrator types out the end of his novel on his computer screen: “I never had any friends later on like the ones I had when I was 12. Jesus, does anyone?” Hold your children tight right now; honor and love them for their quirks, challenges, struggles, and joys. They are growing older right before our very eyes.