August 28, 2006 04:20 PM
Middle School: The Silent Years?
When my daughter was in late elementary school and early middle school, there was rarely a moment of silence in our home. She cried, yelled, and challenged us on every issue, every day. It began around fourth grade, and it seemed like it would never end. Then when she finally entered her teens, and her hormones and emotions settled down a bit, she returned to being the pleasant girl we remembered, and all was well again. But in the back of my mind, I was scared. Because just as my daughter entered her second year of high school, my youngest child entered his first year of middle school. I braced myself for the conflicts I remembered from a few years before. I didn’t know when the battles would arrive, what they would look like, or how I’d survive it all one more time. But I was sure they were coming.
Now, as my son approaches age 12, I’m still waiting for a hormone-fueled World War III to begin. But you know something? I’m not sure that it’s coming. It has occurred to me that although middle school is not an easy time for many kids, not all of them wear the difficulty of this time on their sleeve. My son, after all, is by nature much quieter than his older sister.
Still, I decided it would be a good idea to be prepared for anything. I read articles, talked to other moms, and had all my own experiences to draw from. Yep, this time, it would be different, because this time, I was ready. Yet my son didn’t want to make things easy for me. He confused me on a daily basis by following my rules, rarely talking back, and having few, if any, yelling matches with anyone in the family. I listened to my friends talk about their own middle-school aged kids, recounting explosive arguments, daily defiance, and even worse behavior. I waited for my time to come, and wondered why my own experiences were so different.
Is it because he’s a boy? Because he’s the youngest child? Because he’s just a laid-back kid? Who knows. I have tried to figure it all out, believe me I’ve tried. But when I couldn’t, I decided it was time for my son and I to have a little one-on-one time, and that’s when I initiated the now-famous (in my family, that is) Wednesday Night Out for the two of us. Perhaps all the turmoil was locked up, deep inside of him. By golly, I was going to get it out of him, no matter what!
“Man, this was going to be great!” I thought to myself. Since my husband and daughter have church-related meetings each Wednesday night, that left me and my son home alone. I decided we’d have dinner at the place of his choosing each week, and we’d just chat up a storm and get to know each other better. I’d unravel the mystery of his confusing little mind (it’s confusing to me, anyway) and I’d just be SO much better at raising a pre-teen this time. Oh yeah, I had it all figured out.
But a glimpse at just one of our nights out, around the middle of the school year, pretty much explains how all of them went. I was sitting across a table from him at our usual restaurant choice, and we just seemed to be looking blankly at each other. Then he took a breath to speak, and I was ready for him to spill it all. “Did you cut your hair, Mom? It looks kinda different,” he said. “No I didn’t, but I did kind of style it differently today! Thanks for noticing! I really wasn’t sure that I liked it…” I trailed off as I noticed he’d begun to watch the big screen TV behind me.
“So how’s school?” I asked. “Good. Fine. Everything’s good,” he said, as he began ripping apart his chicken tenders. “So you’re pretty hungry, huh?” I asked. Oh please let him talk to me. Oh please make this easier. Say something! Please! “Yep, I’m pretty hungry,” he mumbled.
The rest of the evening involved small exchanges of absolutely pointless babble. Well maybe not pointless, because I do appreciate any time I have alone with him. But he never did reveal his feelings on, well, anything. He never did have an outburst and accuse me of ruining his life, like I was so often accused of when my oldest was this age. He just sat back, sipping his root bear, eating his fries, being a perfectly content boy.
So I wait, knowing that it might never happen the way it did with my first child. But I’m ready. Just in case.
Comments
They do have to make it hard on us and keep us guessing, don't they? My own 12 year old is quiet too. He does express himself with glares and stony glances, though.
Your nights out will pay off in the end, I'm sure of it. You may not see the effects now but you are spending time together. That is probably more important to him than you will ever know.
Posted by: Pieces at August 29, 2006 08:17 PM
Boys are infinitely easier than girls! The hardest thing about their hormonal years is a) their feet stink; b) their rooms stink; and c) the stench is horrible!
But all in all...I'd rather raise 12 boys through puberty than 2 girls!
Posted by: Helen at September 10, 2006 03:58 PM
