FMG doesn't stand for what you probably think it does

FMG doesn't stand for what you probably think it does

At one point in my life, around junior high-ish, I decided that the ideal litmus test for a potential girlfriend was whether I could picture hanging out with her at Valleyfair. Plausibility was no restraint in my imagination. I could imagine being on a ride with every cute girl at my school and discovered that some pairings just didn't feel right. (In no way does this mean that I would have said no to someone I couldn't picture myself with on Excalibur. The exercise was PURELY academic.) Maybe I learned from doing this that I valued personality in a potential partner, but probably not at the time. 

I always say that I don't really remember junior high. That's not exactly true. I remember lots of things, lots of moments, but it's almost as if I was not quite present for those memories. I don't know that there's been a more anxious time in my life. I didn't know how to act or what to do, and it seemed as if other kids did. 

At Grass, Troy F. made fun of my "Beastie Bucks" t-shirt. The school newspaper had a gossip column  in which my initials never appeared. I guess the word "sophisticated" would be too much to describe the gossip column, but it was actually entertaining and funny, more so than you might think from junior high kids. I was a member of the Red Carpet Club, which helped introduce new students to the school. I don't remember getting recruited for the club, getting trained, or most anything about it except for my first charge immediately becoming more popular than me. Glad I could help. First day of Spanish class, choosing Spanish names. Steve U. shouting "I'M JESUS!" "It's pronunced hay-ZOOS, Steve."

I could go on. 

This awkwardness is part of why I tried to get a job at that level when I changed jobs. For as much as people say how hard that age is, apparently there aren't a lot of openings because I didn't get a single interview for a junior high age job. It's always seemed easier for me to get along with younger kids. I don't know how much longer I want to work with a population that ignores you when you say "hello" and rejects all teaching that doesn't look very traditional (and then complains about how boring the class is). 

On the other hand, I probably wouldn't have the opportunity to create a misconceptions list based on all the things that a single loud student vociferously lectures the rest of the class on. "If I say something's right, it's right," he was heard to remark last week. The week before, he derisively questioned another student about not knowing why 666 is a "bad number." "It's the devil's birthday!" he explained. They worked out together that the devil was born (!) on June 6...uh...year 6.