Middle school. When I hear those two words, I often still cringe. Memories of my own friend drama, awkward changes, and increased academic demands are still so close to the surface almost thirty years later.
When my oldest began middle school this fall, I was worried as I braced myself for all the changes: new faces, more challenging classes, and a two-story building replacing the small rectangle of corridors she’d previously called home. To ensure I was ready, I spoke to friends with older girls, read books about parenting adolescents, and ensured my daughter knew I’d be there if she needed to talk.
Everyone I spoke to and everything I read seemed to agree: Middle school is a time of great physical, emotional, and intellectual change, and with change often comes challenges.
Armed with this knowledge, my oldest and I set out on this new adventure, both a little nervous as we dove into the unknown. Yet, as the school year progressed, she came home happy—maybe not every day, but on most days—even more so than in elementary school.
During this time, I’ve unearthed a truth no one had ever told me about middle school. Despite all the changes, middle school can be fun.
As it turns out, my daughter loves the change to a day spent mixing with different students and teachers. Even though the new school is big, our town does a great job keeping its new sixth graders close, offering academic and emotional support unheard of in the 1990s.
In this encouraging environment, our daughter has thrived.
Having teachers who care about the subjects they teach has ignited a spark of excitement even for subjects she once disliked, as she sees the material through expert eyes. This new spark continues to kindle her fire to learn. When she comes home and starts her homework before gymnastics practice, she picks up where she left off hours later, never complaining about putting in the required hours.
And on days when she has questions, they are no longer solely procedural. Instead, they are big-picture questions, often about history, politics, and the workings of our town. Many evenings, we spend hours lost on a tangent about the day’s issues, all of us animated and excited to share our unique insights and perspectives.
Of course, not every day runs smoothly. There are times when schoolwork is overwhelming – a test the morning after a late-night gymnastics meet, a slew of deadlines before holiday break.
Yet, even through these challenges, I have been amazed by the depth they have given our relationship as I watch my role as a mother change.
On these nights, as we both huddle over her Chromebook, reviewing flashcards and solving math problems, I am no longer just her caretaker but a sounding board, a confidant, and sometimes even a friend.
As we struggle together, I can feel our relationship changing. Its bones are no longer based on the physical intimacy of bathing, clothing, and feeding but on something even deeper. Our stories are now woven together, the late-night study sessions leading to late-night ice cream parties and sharing sessions where she asks about my own middle school experiences.
I always tell her how hard those years were. I always tell her how proud I am of her.
We always end the night laughing, even when it is late and we are exhausted. A comedian since birth, my oldest has a true gift for finding humor in almost every situation. She loves peppering her conversations with her generation’s most ridiculous slang, lives for making us parents try to learn the latest dances she’s mastered with her friends, and often recounts tales of school happenings that provide a layer of entertainment missing from my own experience.
Part of me wonders if some of this laughter comes from how happy she is with her friends. I sometimes overhear her encouraging them, telling them how great they are and how they can overcome that hurdle in school or gymnastics. As she does, I hear none of the competitiveness of my childhood but rather a sincere hope that they will all succeed.
Peering through this window, I hope that we millennial moms, the generation that started adolescence with Clueless and ended it with Mean Girls, might be doing better. Maybe our daughters will grow up with more empathy, understanding, and less bullying.
That is until she comes home with a story that shows that even if we’ve made progress, the bullying is still there, as threatening and imposing as it ever was.
I hold her close on these nights, insulating her like a cocoon, as I hope these nascent middle school memories will serve as a shield that will protect her from animosity and remind her how much she is loved.
And I continue to feel honored every day she includes me in this journey, such as when she asks if we can watch Gilmore Girls together or if I’ve ever heard of the show.
“Ever heard of it? I watched it in real-time!” I exclaim, shocked that she’s even heard of it.
“I really want to watch it together,” she says, and I smile, excited at the thought of diving into this world together, discussing Rory and Lorelai’s many wins and fails and devouring the lessons they can teach us both. I imagine us huddled on the couch with popcorn, bonding, laughing, and having fun.
I want to bottle this time, remember it, and, most importantly, share this hidden truth with others embarking on this milestone. That middle school doesn’t have to be scary. It’s just a new phase, similar to when she started walking, talking, and going to school.
While there are days I might miss the little girl from long ago, the adolescent before me is so interesting, funny, and kind-hearted that my fears have been replaced with an eager wish to embrace the present and a new excitement for all that lies ahead—bumps and all.
