Back in middle school I was always doing something stupid. Terribly shy, awkward, taller than everyone else, uncoordinated, didn't know how to do my hair, had braces,...the whole bit. Somehow, no matter how hard I tried to keep it from happening, I'd end up doing or saying something embarrassing. I'd think about everything I'd say in any particular scenario that could possibly come up - practice it, rehearse it - and then that scenario would become a reality and I'd fumble and mumble something inane and blow the whole thing. Or I'd trip or do a snotty sneeze or not realize that my mascara had smudged or that something from lunch was on my front tooth. Just killer humiliation.
My daughter is in middle school now. Seventh grade. She's taller than most of her peers, shy, uncoordinated...but she's better at doing her hair than I was, has a lot of friends and usually manages to keep food out of her teeth. To top it all off, she's a great kid. She can be a bit flaky though. Smart, but often in a state of mild confusion.
Last night was the parent orientation where we do a mock schedule of our child's day. Ten minutes in each class and the teachers give an overview of what material they'll be covering this semester. Emma and her friend Alexandra are in homeroom and the first three classes together so I was hanging out with her mom, Theresa, during homeroom. The principal announces over the PA system that it was time to move on to the next class. We all got up, I looked at Emma's schedule and see that the class for period two (yeah that's right - period TWO) is math in Mr. Varner's room next door. After chit-chatting for a couple of minutes with a few friends I bop off to math class. When I got there, the other parents were all seated already and Mr. Varner was beginning his presentation. The only seat left available was at the far end of the room in the back. I apologized profusely as I entered and mumbled something about being a slacker mom and how sorry I was to be late. On the way to the seat, I noticed a confused look pass over Mr. Varner's face as I walked by him, but I quickly dismissed it. He must just be a confused fellow, I thought.
He started his presentation again and I was determined to be a good "student" so I put a serious expression on my face and prepared to listen carefully. Suddenly, he's interrupted again by someone shouting, "RACHEL!" I looked out the door where the voice is coming from and there's Theresa looking at me laughing with a, What the hell?! expression on her face. "WHAT are you doing in there?! You're not supposed to be in there now! It's first period! We're supposed to be in BIBLE!!" She spat out the last word. (Which I think may actually be sacrilegious or something.) I realized with horror that I had mistaken homeroom for first period and moved on to second period too soon.
All eyes turned towards me. I saw familiar faces in diced up fragments - blond hair here, brown eyes there, blue shirt, red lipstick, green shirt, blue eyes, green eyes...too much input and so many embarrassing memories came flooding at me and I could feel the color rising up my neck towards my face as if the dye from the red shirt I was wearing was being sucked out of the fabric and seeping into my skin. There was no way to recover. I sloooowly got up, walked to the front of the room, squeaked, "This is so embarrassing! I'm so sorry again." and started to run out of the room. I could hear all of the laughter behind me (most of these people know me so it was all friendly, but still...). I almost got to the door and my escape when I hear my friend Andrea shout from her seat in the classroom, "AT LEAST NOW WE KNOW WHERE EMMA GETS IT!!" Which stopped me dead in my tracks and I burst out laughing along with everyone else. I couldn't even be offended because it was true.
Poor kid. She got some of the best of me and some of the worst of me. I know she'll survive this middle school business though - if I can do it, then she can certainly do it.
Oh, and Mr. Varner? So very sorry.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment