Growing Pains

A few years back, following a Girls Camp YCL experience with first year campers, I developed a theory about the emotional roller coaster that is early adolescence: 

In 1820, a young boy knelt in a clearing and uttered a humble prayer there. At the tender age of 14, Joseph Smith unleashed the powers of heaven. In return, an indignant Lucifer unleashed his fury on all children of men roundabout the age of 14. I ballpark the range as 12-15. Life during those years is now hell on earth. 

Now, a few semesters of educational psychology and theory inform me that the cerebral cortex, located in the frontal lobe of the brain and responsible for all higher-order thinking and processing, doesn't begin to fully develop until the onset of puberty. That's right, doesn't begin to develop until puberty. The cerebral cortex is often called the Conductor because its proper functioning is so crucial to virtually all aspects of our lives-- language, organization, emotional interpretation, etc. etc. So that means our "conductors" are testing out their water wings in the kiddie pool while we've gotta sink or swim in the deep end of puberty, pimples, and peer pressure. Lame. 

For either one of these extremely valid, well-thought out explanations, middle school sucks for everybody. If you think it didn't, your frontal lobe took so long to develop you've blocked it all out. I'm finishing up my student teaching in a 7th grade humanities class this spring. The kids are so energetic, so interested, so sweet-- and so thirteen. To get myself through the day, I often have to remind myself of what a friekin' nut case I was at their age. 

Yes, this is me in middle school. This is actually my 8th grade picture since the pages of my 7th grade yearbook are ripped out-- I told you it sucked. That coy smile is an attempt to hide the crooked teeth I was so ashamed of, and my hair is pulled forward not to show off luxurious flowing locks but the ears I'm pretty sure earned me the loving family moniker "orangutan" as an infant. I couldn't figure out if I was more interested in continuing life as a tomboy or turning a leaf towards more girly pursuits; if I was a flute-playing, drama and debate loving nerd, or more concerned with being into what the "cool kids" said was "cool." Oh, and that was the year I tripped and fell into (yes, literally into) a garbage can while saying hi to the boy I'd been in love with since kindergarten. Oh, and the year that my friends from elementary school decided I was no longer cool enough to sit with them at lunch. Oh, and the year that... Needless to say, I was ridin' that roller coaster. 

I'm not sure if I ever really figured it all out, but at least by the time high school rolled around and certainly now I don't burst into tears when I realize I don't know much about me somedays. I'm thinking I might make a copy of this to keep in my pocket so I can pull it out and remind myself of that on those days when I can cut the drama (and pheromones!) in the classroom with a knife and the last bell can't come soon enough. 

*** If you could avoid making any comments about how I look exactly the same now, I'd appreciate it. I can't even count how many times I've been mistaken for a student. Yes, a middle school student.