He needed it. He really did. Everybody rides him. Sadly, it is as it should be. See, it’s middle school. Sometimes it feels like a modern day version
of forty days in the desert. The place
to go to become young men and women. The
handholding is coming to an end. And the
world is waiting. By the time they
reemerge from our hallways and classrooms and quads, they must be responsible
for themselves. Their assignments. Their work.
Their time. Their
management. Sure, it needs to be
age-appropriate. But, they can’t come
out the other end still thinking the world revolves around them. They must leave with grander ideas and
broader understandings. And, in a
bigger sense? They must own their own
hopes. They must own their own
dreams. We can no longer dream their
dreams for them. So? We ride them a bit. Lean on them.
Sink or swim sometimes, and sometimes we let them sink before we pull
them back up to the surface and try again.
That’s Steven. He can’t sit
still. Backpack is a disaster. It’s the place important papers go to
die. The mouth is always moving. So? We
need to ride him. Remember, it’s just a
few years stay, and then the world is waiting.
Practically everybody graduates from middle school. Everybody moves on. You do your time and you come out the other
end either way. But, that’s the last
time that will ever happen. You hear so
much about standardized tests and results.
But, really, all of this is of equal value. No.
Greater value. There isn’t a
multiple-choice answer to pulling your own weight or making your own way. We will prepare them and test them. But please be mindful of all of this “other”
we know we must make happen. And, in the
middle of pushing on them, when the opportunity arises, you’ve got to build
them back up. And the obvious way to
build them up? Jousting.
Of course, it’s jousting. All
educators know that challenging a child to a joust is the best and most
recommended way to give a kid a boost.
It’s the big testing assembly. We
pull out all the stops. A rock band made
up of teachers has reworked the words to Queen’s, “We Will Rock You,” so it
talks about how well our school will do on state testing. Teachers throw fistfuls of prizes into the
crowd. To an outsider, it may seem a bit
over the top, but if the kids know we think it’s important, many of them will
think it’s important, too.
After the first round of prizes has been tossed and the band has
finished its set, it’s time for the jousting.
The jousting arena comes from a company that rents this kind of stuff
out for parties and smaller carnivals and fairs. It looks like the floor to a huge bounce
house. Two, small circle podiums stand
in the middle. The jousters stand on the
wobbly podiums. They strap on their
helmets and pick up the big foam jousting sticks. First person to knock the other guy onto the
treacherous bounce house flooring can claim victory.
We have some good matches lined up that day. Grudge matches between staff members from
last year’s antics. Counselor pitted
against counselor. The one that causes
the crowd to stir is our vice principal verse our principal. The clash of the disciplinarians. Our VP proves victorious. As the true face of discipline, there is a
slight wave of disappointment with his victory.
But it’s not over. Our vice
principal still has one challenge left.
Steven.
Steven has been chosen, allegedly at random, to battle our VP. Now, our VP is well over six foot. If you didn’t know he was such a nice guy, he
might seem pretty menacing. And then
there’s Steven. Steven very well may be
the smallest guy in our school. It’s
like that in middle school. Guys
hovering just over four feet thrown in with guys well over six.
Like I said, we lean on Steven.
Ride him. And our VP no doubt has
assigned him detentions, maybe Saturday school a few times. He’s tiny and likes to talk. And he doesn’t always have much of a
filter. So, plenty of kids are riding
him too, and not for the right reasons.
It’s got to be a lot of long days for Steven. He is shocked to hear his name.
So are the kids. Instantly, he is
seen as lucky. One out of fifteen
hundred. The kids start chanting his
name. After some shock wears off, he
starts to beam. It’s already the best
day of school he has ever known and he hasn’t quite made his way to the
jousting area yet. Classmates high five
him and slap him on the back as he bumps his little body through the crowd. Kids seem to have instantly forgotten he was
their favorite target just hours ago.
With kids this age, the tide can change in a flash.
The helmet comes down over his eyes.
Steven has to stretch, practically crawl, to get up onto the
podium. Once he does, he stands in our
VP’s shadow. The countdown begins. The kids chime along. I can see that his little arms are struggling
just to hold onto the jousting stick.
“Steve! Steve! Steve!”
The kids chant. When the buzzer goes
off, you can see his strain to hoist the stick up past his waist. He swings it, almost falling off from the
weight of the foam.
He does connect. The pole brushes
against our Vice Principal. That’s
enough, though. Our Goliath does a fine
acting job, flying his body into the air and onto the inflatable floor. It’s obviously fake, but no one seems to
mind, least of all Steve.
He can’t pull his helmet off fast enough so he can take in the
crowd. For one glorious moment, he is
in. He’s accepted. The kids accept him. The teachers and the administrators and the
counselors that are constantly pushing and pulling on him to walk the line, smile
and cheer.
Our Vice Principal raises Steven’s hand in victory, graceful in
defeat. The kids love it. It’s a good day to be Steven. After about 150 days into middle school, it
is finally a good day to be Steven.
It’s true. They are in middle
school for such a short amount of time, going through the metamorphosis. And it’s true that we must make them far more
responsible. As I watch Steven make his
way back through the crowd, basking in a moment of fame that may not last until
the day’s final bell, I know we can’t hold their hands anymore. It has to be that way. But sometimes, when they really need it, we
can still let them know that they are loved.
We can still give them a pat on the back.
If you're enjoying the blog, here's a book I recommend. "Our Kids: Building Relationships in the Classroom," is available at Amazon. Now available for the Kindle.
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