Four years ago, the COVID-19 pandemic stuck and we were forced to take classes (and even our graduations) online. I found out that getting your name read off of a list of every fifth grader in the school wasn’t a great way of commemorating six years of dedication towards a community or the milestone that is a child’s transition to middle school. Most of my sixth grade was spent online as well, where I would sit with my camera and microphone off while my teacher read off of a slide. However, I had decided to be ambitious and chose to be in the in-person class.
The first few weeks were strange and chaotic- students were placed in cohorts, which would take turns attending class in-person. Since many parents feared for their children’s safety, the class and therefore the cohorts were very small (I was in a cohort with only two, then one, other student). Class often felt a bit like private tutoring. At times, teachers would have to teach an online class in front of their in-person students. Towards the end of the year, the entire class (which was about twelve people in total) was allowed to go to school together and virtual learning was only necessary when a teacher or student was exposed to COVID. After being deprived of social interactions for nearly an entire year, I began to actually want to go to school just to see what jokes my classmates would crack that day. I learned from sixth grade that you can’t play bocce ball with sticks, hand gestures are a great way of communicating, good teachers are your second set of parents, and that Lucy and Otzi have been dead for a while.
When we began seventh grade, I had lost my ability to interact with anyone other than my family members. I had had a single full conversation with another student in sixth grade (a student who wasn’t even in my class anymore). On the first day of school, I was too afraid to ask anyone for help until my sixth grade social studies teacher noticed how lost I looked (we had stayed in one classroom for all of our periods the previous year). I ended up telling her the wrong class. Fortunately, the mistake was cleared up and I was able to make it to the right class on the second day. I had an amazing friend who helped me get to know different students and make new friends (I still don’t know how to do it on my own, I might not survive high school) and I often wonder how my middle school experience would have differed if I had chosen to stay in the other class, without her.
During seventh grade, I joined my first club- the Curious Times- in order to share my comics and hopefully make a few people smile. I also had my first experiences with stressing over grades. I had always been in the G&T class, but now with new classmates and teachers with higher expectations, class changed from a group that generally received satisfactory grades to students who cried over a 90. I found out that these were the grades that high schools would actually look at and became one of these students. (Here’s a tip for next year’s seventh graders- if you get Ms. Caro, always, ALWAYS check that you’ve attached the google doc with your math work, not just the answers, onto the lesson before submitting or she will give you a 50). Because of this, the class was somewhat united by our fear of bad grades to the point that we were all friends with each other to some extent. I learned from seventh grade that getting rid of your ponytail will make people doubt your identity, Pb ≠ peanut butter, you’re stuck with the reputation you make for yourself, and that you do NOT want to skip studying for Mr. Quinn’s tests.
And then eighth grade. I was happy to find out that everyone from my seventh grade class would be moving to the same eighth grade class (plus a few new students). This year was my first experience with timed standardized tests, namely the SHSAT and the Regents. I had studied for about four months (which, compared to my classmates’ two years, was absolutely pathetic) with SHSAT practice booklets from the library and did not feel ready. I still managed to make it into Stuyvesant, my first choice high school (and also probably my final resting place). ((In case you think that I’m recommending this type of practice as an effective form of studying that will guarantee you entry into a good high school, keep in mind that I have been a dedicated book nerd since preschool)). The rest of the year (including the Regents) went by surprisingly easily, and I even began experiencing a bit of reluctant withdrawal from the stress-induced adrenaline I had somehow come to love.
Because the entire class was nearly the same as it had been last year, I got to experience eighth grade with all of the same friends. Since friendships change over time, more time spent with those friends meant more change within those relationships. I grew farther from some of them but also much closer to others. I am thankful for these friends, who supported me even though I know I can be a terrible friend and also despite not even knowing what I looked like. Oh, I forgot to mention that I had taken off my mask only to eat lunch in the first few weeks of seventh grade and had not done so since then. Ever since I began to care about my looks in seventh grade, I had been insecure, which I (literally) hid with a mask (thanks a lot COVID, for giving me that excuse). I would like to thank the eighth grade senior trip to Six Flags for both being highly enjoyable and for giving me an opportunity to go to school without a mask on my own terms (or forcing me to take off my mask for lunch or I would starve, if I’m being realistic). I learned from eighth grade that pulchritudinous is a great word, nice does not have to equal love (stop shipping real people), 21+7 is not equal to 30 (uggghhh), and that making a conscious effort to use the word “I” less often does not make you any less self-centered.
My experience was not the typical middle school experience (see: COVID, mask, same classmates for two years straight, etc.). Fortunately, its uniqueness paired with a wonderful group of friends, classmates, and teachers that I will miss has only made it more fun (no matter how else I might have made it sound). I have a sense of fearful apprehension that these are the three years I will look back most fondly upon.