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If you were looking for oddities, you came to the right place. I'm an unschooling mom and writer living on the Canadian prairies. Topical Index:~Sermonology with Breakneck Dave~Life-Led Lessons in the Living School ~Field Trips ~Family Fanaticism ~Projects ~Mom Mumblings ~RANTISHNESS ~WRITISHNESS |
wild (but not uncultivated) musings of a Canadian unschool momHome | Archives | contact The Truth About Why Pre-Teenhood is Misery8:22 PM - Jan. 18, 2007 - Add to the Wildness
I am disgruntled, and it has given rise to A Theory. The Theory pertains to my soon-to-be 11-year-old and the sudden, illogical bouts of misery he inflicts on himself and everyone else around him. Since his preferred screen name is Spazzerific, I shall dub it the Theory of Spazz. The kid is an idiot. I don't mean stupid, or bad, or annoying - wait. I totally do mean annoying. In fact, that is the core of the Theory. I have come to believe that the reason junior high is misery in public schools is because it's the nature of the subjects. There are increasing numbers of moments where I want to hang the kid. The rest tend to be filled in by the shifts his sisters and little brother have signed up for, or by the Spazz wanting to hang himself. He is a wretched example of humanity, and I wouldn't worry if aliens abducted him for a specimen, because I know they'd send him back within twelve hours - after he'd eaten all their lab experiments, tripped on and wrecked their equipment, insulted every last one of them from the captain to the janitor, and then summarily burst into an inconsolable spate of tears over what a wretched example of humanity he believes himself to be. And I can't honestly debate that. He's a mess. Can you even imagine him in a whole roomful of him? Oh, my sakes. My Theory is that people hate junior high because it's full of miserable, cranky, hungry, wretched junior high-aged people. My mother came over the other day. We got into a discussion about the need for that break that never comes, and how the kids would handle it if I were to seek relief for my constant exasperation by putting them all in school. "They'd do fine," my mom said. "They've got such a solid family background." Which was sweet of her, but how on earth would Spazzerific find a release for his hormone-induced self-loathing with a bunch of other idiots around him just waiting to laugh and torment him at the first sign of tears? No, much as I am tempted to sell him on the Internet, I will keep my beloved Spazz home where he is free to be who he is - however miserable. I want him to be able to cry over nothing and be okay about it after. It's just one very small consideration among so many, many others, but I had my kids young, and I actually still remember those confusing years. And for a pre-teen, that silly confusion is a big consideration.
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