Won’t you be my neighbor?
NOT!
My soul or something vital, if not that, was forged in the killing fields of middle school. Not as a child, no sirree, I was a ridiculously cheerful child, oblivious to a fault. If people shunned me, which they may have, I am not sure, I didn’t pay any attention. I went all the way through high school thinking I was popular. I eventually realized I wasn’t, but that’s another story. Even then, my main reaction was to feel sorry for those poor souls missing out on my company.
As a teacher of middle school students, I learned to deal with reality. Oblivion was not an option. Deal or die. Dying in this case meant getting fired, letting the bullies win, and failing to grow up. I learned how to wield the powers given to me to protect the weak and to nurture the oddballs who came under my care. It formed the foundation of my relationship to society. I see it as part of my obligation to keep order and to model proper behavior, so as to encourage it.
I left my position as a middle school teacher in 1999 when we moved to State College and I taught undergraduates at Penn State University. It was a breeze in a sense because all of the kids who made it to college (for the most part) were conscientious students in middle school. They knew the game as did I and we got along fine.
