10 January 2008

Ain't No Middle School Here!

Middle school.

Yeah, whateva.

Middle school is just some lame-ass excuse for a mediocre educator to push through some crappy idea about grouping students this way rather than that way. That being junior high. Oh, junior high, that's such an outdated idea. Let's shove these 9th graders into the high school environment. mixing all these scrawny 14-year-olds in with legal voters and legal sex-crazed fiends, move the 12-year-old 6th graders in with grades 7 and 8 and call it a middle school! Genius! Get rid of the football/baseball/basketball teams 'cause, sheesh, who wants to mess with that when it comes to a bunch of young teenagers and their "fragile" skeletal structures. We want to ease our little flowers into a high school-type environment, not just senselessly slam them into it as a junior high would. God forbid we push our kids to do anything that makes them uncomfortable.

What the f.... wait. I'm trying to clean up here.

WTF? (See there? Abbreviation. Much better.)

I went to a God's-honest junior high school- grades 7 through 9. We had a full-contact football team. Full-on varsity basketball. Cheerleaders. Majorettes (yes, Fab, major-friggin'-ettes). Marching band (my bag). French club. Blah, blah, yadda, yadda. From the fall of 1984 to spring 1987, I attended the coolest junior high on the planet, just three short blocks from my house. Brisk walk, anyone?

Here, I present to you, the horror that is my 7th grade yearbook picture, top row, middle. Yeesh.

(Gad! Did I really wear those glasses?!?)
Sorry 'bout that. Anyone need to clean off their monitors from snorting a beverage through their nose, take 5. I'll still be here. Why didn't I smile? Braces, you fool! And how 'bout my Izod sweater? Chick in the third row, first picture? That's Jennifer. For three solid years, all through junior high, every Friday or Saturday night during the school year, we could be found at her house, crashed on her basement floor, watching TV, sprawled on bean bags. Ah, that was the life!

So, 8th grade dawned. I was now drum major for the marching band and, I thought, a bad-ass. SNORT!

Oh, yeah! There I am, right up there. Last row, second picture. Shaggy hair. Retainer. HORRIFYING!

Finally, 9th grade. Shorter hair, big chick on campus, all that and a bag of chips....

Third row, second picture. Man, that hair was THE BOMB.... then. Now? Not so much. Blond guy? Last row, last picture? That was Patrick. Damn, he was cute. HUGE crush. Wouldn't give me the time of day in junior high or high school. Not even as friends. Saw him three years after graduation and he gave me this gigantic "haven't seen my best bud in ages" hug. Poser.

So, there you go. Free entertainment all on your computer screen from the comfort of your home or office. Hee hee! See you tomorrow with high school pictures, baby! Beware, Denise! Your mug is going up!
Oh, and? I'm turning over a new leaf. I'm going to succumb to proper blogging etiquette and respond to all of your comments with comments of my own rather than personal e-mails. Responding to each and every comment via e-mail was getting to be much for me. Still, though, feel free to shoot off e-mails to me. I'm here. Wrangling kids!


Avitable said...

That eighth grade picture was kinda hot. I think I might print that out and go into the bathroom now.

Cricky said...

Oh...this is going to force me to post my own soon. I promise you, it will make your photos look like glamour shots.

RiverPoet said...

Oh, you are a brave soul. I kind of looked like Fozzie Bear in my 9th grade photo.

And yes. No Middle School for me either. I went to a Jr/Sr high combined, though. 7th graders all the way through 12th. The only difference was our uniforms. Green and white for the jr high; orange and white for the sr high. I was involved only in chorus until I moved to Georgia. Then I got into lots of stuff (in and out of school!)

Peace - D

Unknown said...

One time, at band camp .... although I don't know how you did that with a hammered dulcimer.

And it's about damn time you listened to me about commenting on the comments! Sheesh. ;-)

Unknown said...

You mean I'm actually going to have to come back to READ THE COMMENTS SECTION??? LOL!

I have multiple questions/statements, so this should be fun!

1) I went to a middle school - grades 5 through 8. All the extracurricular activities started in the 6th grade.

2) Why are you cleaning up here?

3) I may have asked this before, but what instruments did you play? For the majority of my band life, I played the trombone. And I thought I was pretty bad ass as drum major, too... I think that's a requirement for being drum major. :)

Coal Miner's Granddaughter said...

Avitable - OK, just wipe it off when you're finished...

Girl - Hee hee! Can't wait!

Riverpoet - Fozzie Bear - now that's a look! And, dude, uniforms?!? I'm sorry...

Teri - Just shut up, ho! You know I didn't play the danged dulcimer in school! "This one time, at band camp, I shoved my dulcimer up Teri's butt!"

Andrea - See my upcoming e-mail, girlfriend!

Gypsy said...

Oh, man. The ninth grade one? Tell me those bangs didn't take some work.

Coal Miner's Granddaughter said...

Gypsy - Oh, they took some work. Hot rollers, curling iron, mousse, hair spray. Probably the reason I do nothing with my hair now.

That Chick Over There said...

I think I had those same glasses. And that same hair. GAH!!

The Ferryman said...

We have a problem.

Note the title of your blog.

I don't remember ever reading any actual confessions here.

I just noticed.


Coal Miner's Granddaughter said...

That Chick Over There - Well, birds of a feather... I'll be reading your blog, sista!

Fab - 'Scuse me? Your blog is "Pointless Drivel" and I don't remember ever thinking that any of that garbage was pointless!