It didn’t hit me until about 30 minutes into the presentation. There were people on stage droning on about some junior high school rules and whatnot, making incomprehensive noises like the teacher in the Peanuts cartoons … then I suddenly remembered why I was sitting in front of them.
My little princess was about to enter junior high school and my wife and I were sitting in a parent orientation class along with a hundred or so other stunned parents.
I guess my first hint of the importance of this occasion was the list of “Don’ts” we read concerning the dress code. Don’t wear shorts or skirts shorter than measurement of your fingers when hanging by your side. Don’t wear spaghetti straps. Don’t wear sleeveless T-shirts or shirts that reveal too much at the neckline. And don’t let your pants hang low (a.k.a. no gangsta style).
Dress code? We don’t need no stinking dress code in elementary school—unless it refers to “Funny Hat Day” or “School Spirit Shirt Day.” What the heck is going on here?
My second hint came when one of the principals listed out the junior high’s punishment doctrine. Does that really say “expulsion” at the bottom of the list? Now I’m getting scared.
But what really floored me was the seventh slide of the PowerPoint presentation. Listed on this page were junior high dances. Dances? As in girls and boys dancing together? Uh, check please. We’re outta here!
Unfortunately, that was just my inner brain at work. In actuality, I sat quietly through the entire orientation and took it all in. Some parents did ask questions—very, very specific questions about everything from PE gear to what constitutes a tardy. Honestly, the only question I could conjure up was, “So you’re telling me my daughter is going to junior high next year?”
Hope I’m not coming off as some oblivious dad who won’t let go of his little girl. OK, I’m probably coming off as exactly that. But this junior high thing is blindsiding me harder than a tackle by Dallas Cowboys linebacker DeMarcus Ware.
After a few transition days during the first week of kindergarten, elementary school rocks. The teachers coddle our young ones, your kids love it when you join them for lunch and the worst thing that happens is when some knucklehead boy puts gum in your daughter’s hair. Once your kids settle in with the system, elementary school is lots of fun with some learning sprinkled in. They even take the occasional field trip to Waco (don’t ask) and pumpkin patches. Sure, they’ve got homework, quizzes and that dastardly TAKS test, but pressure moments are few and far between.
After one 45-minute orientation meeting, I can already tell that junior high school is going to be all about pressure. Pressure to excel (read: 15 minutes spent on nothing but pre-AP class options). Pressure to fit in (read: the counselor says the biggest adjustment for girls is making and changing friends). Pressure to play a musical instrument (read: everyone makes the band and must choose an instrument right now). Yikes.
And this is only sixth grade. Heck, sixth graders still eat by themselves in the cafeteria. Seventh and eighth graders eat together. Double yikes.
As my wife and I were leaving, I glanced down one of the hallways and noticed something really unnerving—an endless line of orange-painted lockers complete with combination locks. Instantly, I was in the middle of my recurring dream of being late for class because I couldn’t remember my combination. You know the one.
Welcome to the beginning of the rest of your life. Buckle up.
