Tis the season for graduating and moving on. Perhaps not moving on so much, as moving up, or moving in general. Here in our little nest we are on the cusp of several graduations. (promotions whatever!)
After Monday comes and goes Garrett will no longer be my little Kindergarten cutie, but a full fledged first grader. Tanner will be leaving behind the childish ways of all things that are second grade, and rolling into the third. (One step closer to becoming a math professor at Harvey Mud college, just ask him!) Very non-ceremoniously and with little pomp and circumstance Connor will move from the 7th grade into the 8th. However the biggest buzz and ensuing chaos has been created by Paige's rise from the ranks of one of the tiniest 5th graders at Green Elementary, to be one of the tiniest 6th graders at Pershing Middle School.
Paige will "graduate" at 11:00 on Monday morning. There will be commencement speeches, procession up the red carpet. They will be called across the stage. The plans for the promotion party are huge!! Hollywood theme, decorated multipurpose room, complete with dance floor and DJ. And whilst my daughter is so very excited and looking forward to this.. With every fiber of my being I am holding back. I'm not holding back tears mind you, but rather holding back the urge to yell "RUN WHILE YOU STILL CAN!!! JR.HIGH SUCKS!!!"
We had no graduation when I was in 5th grade we were just told that in the fall we'd be showing up to the building across the street, there was little fanfare or excitement. Perhaps my own Jr.High experience is why I don't understand why a HUGE deal is being made of fifth grade graduation. This is such a big build up to the WORST THREE YEARS OF LIFE!! If there were a period of time in my life that I could erase forever, it would be the 6th -8th grades. It's miserable!!!! It's horrible!!!!! You get boobs, and hormones, and feel like everyone hates you, and then you hate everyone. You cry over everything, boys are mean and stupid and smell, but you kinda like them anyway. It's confusing, and frustrating, and I never felt like I quite fit in anywhere. Perhaps it was being in a small town, perhaps it was because of WHAT small town I was in. Perhaps San Diego will be better. Perhaps Paige is a lot more together at the ripe old age of 11 than I was.. I don't know. So I will go, I will watch her beam as she "graduates", and I will resist the great urge to tell he how horrid my Jr.High life was, and just hope and pray that hers is a bit better.