Junior High for Schmucks

Middle school sucks.  In my day it was called Junior High.  Really, Grandma Christy?  Yeah, really.  You can change the name of it, but it’s still going to suck.  I’m sure it has to do with everyone going through puberty at the same time and trying to see where they fit in, but it’s terrible.  And I was terrible, I’m not saying I was any better than anyone else.  I don’t look back at Junior High and wish I could relive that time.   I was awkward and uncomfortable in my own skin, and it only took about two months for the 6th grade friends I had to move on to other friends and I was eating alone in the cafeteria.  Then, my Social Studies teacher called me a hemorrhoid because I wouldn’t sit down for very long.  THEN, I had a “friend” say something REALLY embarrassing about me that continued on well into high school.  Good heavens, I might need to take a break.  No wonder I drank in high school.  

Oh, wait, I did get a date to the sweetheart dance, but it’s only because this guy’s girlfriend broke up with him right before and he ended up dancing with her at the dance.  We never hung out again.  Oh, I’ll never forget (rhymes with) Schmott Schmarmack.  What a crush I had on that guy. 

So there’s a movie coming out called Dinner for Schmucks where the idea is to bring the biggest schmuck (or tool, I like to say) to dinner and the biggest one (or most douchey) gets a prize.  I think all the funny has been in the trailer so I probably won’t see it or it will be a renter.   It’s very expensive to go to the movies so I have to pick something I really want to see.  Like Inception, which I’m seeing this Sunday.  Digression……And I’m back.

Every school has clicks and ours was no exception.  You’ll be surprised (or not) to find that I was not in the popular crowd.  Externally, those people were always so sure of themselves.  I did (finally) get into a really great group of friends and was well on my way to a downward spiral into the world of stoners in high school until there was some sort of riff with some of the girls that ended with me being bullied every day of my senior year, even though I wasn’t involved in the original problem.  My depressing high school story will have to be another time.  Man, I couldn’t wait to get out of there.  Just as I write this, I can’t believe I actually reproduced and now have girls that could potentially go through some of the crap I did.

Back to Junior High.  This very popular girl in like the 8th grade asked me to go with a bunch of the other popular girls to toilet paper the football boys’ houses and I was so excited.  I mean, of course, it didn’t make sense because I didn’t hang out with these people, but most of them I’d gone to school with since kindergarten so they weren’t strangers or anything.  One of them lived up the street from me and her dad was going to pick me up.  It was the first time I’d done anything like that without being at an actual house that my over-protective (yet loving) mother couldn’t get ahold of me for any reason.  Did I tell you how excited I was?

But then there’s the biggest question of all, what do I wear?  Oh my gosh, I hadn’t even thought about it.  Being a girl is really hard!  I’d never been to anything like that.  What do people wear when TP’g football boys’ houses?  This was my one and only chance to hang with the cool kids and if I was cool, I might get invited to bonfires or something.  GAG!   You’ll be surprised (or not) to find out that I chose poorly.  I wore jeans and a cute top and everyone else was in sweat pants and t-shirts.  I laughed and said, “I didn’t know what to wear”, and the Queen Bee of the mean girls said, “It’s not a fashion show”.  Man, I hope she’s working the fryer at McDonald’s, but I’m sure she’s not.  It’s not like they were terrible to me, but clearly, a few of them had no idea what I was doing there, and actually I didn’t know what I was doing there either.  It wasn’t for me.  It was the one and only time I was thankful for my ridiculously early curfew. 

Maybe I should end each blog with a prayer since I can’t seem to nail down a theme.  In this prayer it will be that my kids have good friends, nice friends, and they’re not either the Queen Bee or bullied by her.  I pray that they come out of their Junior High and High School days fairly unscathed, and that they stay away from the stoners.



  1. carikelley

    geez, Debbie Downer. I can’t stop thinking about my poor middle school and high school children, and, now, worrying they will experience some of that.

    I don’t remember a lot of details about that time in my life, but I do have mostly happy memories. Not quite the angst-ridden days of your youth…did I even know you then? lol

  2. Love that ending prayer…may I use it too?

    • christyd4

      Of course! You can emphasize the staying away from stoners part. And Cari, sorry for the Debbie Downer and you’ve known me from birth so I’m sure you knew me during this time! I just did a good job of hiding it.

  3. Heidi

    You should look up SCHMOTT SCHMARMACK on FB…he looks much ‘tougher’ now….

    • christyd4

      I should, Heidi, but he probably wouldn’t remember me!

  4. Schmott Schmarmack

    Hi, Christy! Schmott Schmarmack here. I DO remember you, but not who the girlfriend was. You wore a green dress (I think, color-blindness is increased tenfold in memories). I wholeheartedly apologize for being a schmuck. And another apology for taking thirty years to apologize.

    • Ummm… Pink dress and let’s just say your ex was a twin.

      • Schmott Schmarmack

        I was awkward and uncomfortable in my own skin, and it only took about two months for the 6th grade girlfriend to move on to another boyfriend. I’ll be looking through old photos to find us that night.


  1. No Dating on Days that End in Y « Dealing with Life

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