A third grade teacher stopped by this evening while my seven middle schoolers were acting unusually uncivilized. She corrected one and I slammed my hand on the table and docked computer time from another. This teacher called it ‘mental school,’ prompting a smile from me as she so aptly described the literal shenanigans at every meal lately.

My three six grade sons immediately became too big for their britches the minute they walked out the door of the elementary school and into middle school. I have three seventh graders, but one has bombed out for some residential mental health, and I have a fourth seventh grader who lives here this year, my granddaughter. She’s on behavior restrictions by her parents for some choice, yet unacceptable, words in either language.

Then to top it all off there are two eighth graders so technically I have nine middle schoolers preventing any oxygen from getting to any brain cells in our home right now.

Normal middle school age pre-teens are difficult at any time. In my twenty five year career in the public school system, somehow I found myself spending eight of those years in a middle school. Eight entertaining years in which I got to go home each night and not listen to their prattle and pitfalls.

Nowadays it is during the school day that I have a little bit of peace and quiet in which to try and recover from our latest bout of raging hormones and uncertain emotions. Ridiculous insecurities, an often blatant disregard for adults who are talking to them, and totally mixed up feelings all contained in changing bodies and, worse yet, in children like mine who’ve not always had the stability of our family.

So in the midst of parenting already traumatized children I find myself counseling disturbances and coaching better attitudes from crazily frantic, silly children who missed some very crucial developmental years.

I never saw an adult so relieved to be leaving my house today as the third grade teacher who is close to our family and adores these darling knot heads of mine who were in amped-up, super-loud, high gear tonight.

This was a pretty good slice of our life this evening though at supper with kitchen seats full of Napoleon Dynamite wannabees.

Photo Credit Cindy Bodie