"Why did you look so sad?"

This morning I had the opportunity to speak with a class of 6th graders because I participate in a local area adopt-a-class program. I know what some of you are thinking: "Ugh, middle school." To be honest, I was kind of thinking that myself as I prepared my presentation. Who here remembers middle school? Perhaps the better question is, who here remembers middle school fondly?

I must admit that these kiddos were the highlight of my day. Perhaps it's because we are only in the second week of school and the 6th grade group is still doe-eyed and excited about all things related to middle school. Or perhaps it's because I didn't give them enough credit. To my surprise they were full of questions which is a nice change of pace from the high school seniors who know all there is to know about everything that typically fill my normal work day. A few questions included:

• "How old do you have to be to go to college?"


• "How old were you when you went to college?"


• "Are you married?"


• "How old is the oldest person to go to college?"


• "Who are New Kids on the Block?" [Just go with it.]

But my favorite was when a little boy asked "Why did you look so sad?"

His question was in regards to this:
As my introduction, I included slides that explained that it was 1990 when I was their age, George H.W. Bush was president, etc. And then I included 3 pictures of myself from my 6th grade year. This move would have been complete social suicide 20 years ago. Fortunately my peers are no longer 11, and I wore my hair straight today as a means of boosting my confidence when I showed the pictures.
Why did I look so sad? Let me count the reasons:

• I was wearing glasses that both Sally Jesse Raphael and Steve Urkel would have beaten me up in a dark alley to take for their own.


• My hair was 4 times bigger than my actual head.


• I was wearing a blazer. With shoulder pads. At the age of 11.


• And pantyhose. Why in the world was I wearing pantyhose at the age of 11 underneath pants?

The only things that I had going for me were the impeccably tight-rolled pants [Why not jeans? I'll cover that in therapy next week.] and my sweet Moon watch. Technically that's not the technical name, but those of you born in the late 70's and very early 80's know exactly what kind of watch I'm talking about. Or at least you should if you were half as cool as I was in middle school.