Jr. High Remembrances
So, tomorrow is the day that I meet my "little sister" for Big Brothers Big Sisters, after two months of waiting, orientations, interviews, and background checks. Her name is Carly and she's 11 years old. It's funny how nervous I am about meeting her. I'm mostly weirded out because our "match manager," another staff person, her mother, and family will be present for our first meeting. I know once we can break away, we'll be able to spend time getting to know each other and we have a lot of similar interests, so I'm not really worried that she won't like me. The initial under the microscope part, is just a little uncomfortable. During the orientation there were six of us sitting around a table and it was peculiar to me how all of us wanted our "little" to see us as cool. I mean we're the people who are supposed to help shape their lives and we want so much for them to see us as popular. It's like we've switched places and we are the ones dealing with peer pressure and trying so desperately to fit in, to stand out only enough that we aren't ignored, but not enough to be separated from the masses.
Thinking back to fifth grade, I think that was the year the cliques began. Everyone fitting into a definite crowd; the lines no longer blurred. It was the year of first real discussions about crushing on that certain pimply, greasy haired boy, the first crucial sleepovers, hormones kicking in and unleashing horrendous cat-fights, the first real dances, the shifting away from friends of your early youth, and more responsibility being handed down from teachers and parents. Not a time I'd especially care to relive. It was the year the popular crowd took the stage, the year classmates dropped out of school because of all the bullying. I hope if I can help Carly with anything, it's this weird transitionary period; too young to be a dramatic teenager who no longer wants to play with toys, but too old to have home friends and school friends, the worlds become one and you have to choose where your loyalties lie. I hope to be the kind of strong woman that I had in my life; to expose her to cultural experiences, to force her to try things she's afraid to try, to lend a listening ear, and shoulder to cry on. That's what I want for the little girl I've never met, but already like; a strong, confident, and happy teenagerdom.
Here's to well-adjusted and deserving girls everywhere. Support and luck to the young women on the rough road ahead. Thanks and love to the strong women everywhere who make that road a little less bumpy and lonely.
Thinking back to fifth grade, I think that was the year the cliques began. Everyone fitting into a definite crowd; the lines no longer blurred. It was the year of first real discussions about crushing on that certain pimply, greasy haired boy, the first crucial sleepovers, hormones kicking in and unleashing horrendous cat-fights, the first real dances, the shifting away from friends of your early youth, and more responsibility being handed down from teachers and parents. Not a time I'd especially care to relive. It was the year the popular crowd took the stage, the year classmates dropped out of school because of all the bullying. I hope if I can help Carly with anything, it's this weird transitionary period; too young to be a dramatic teenager who no longer wants to play with toys, but too old to have home friends and school friends, the worlds become one and you have to choose where your loyalties lie. I hope to be the kind of strong woman that I had in my life; to expose her to cultural experiences, to force her to try things she's afraid to try, to lend a listening ear, and shoulder to cry on. That's what I want for the little girl I've never met, but already like; a strong, confident, and happy teenagerdom.
Here's to well-adjusted and deserving girls everywhere. Support and luck to the young women on the rough road ahead. Thanks and love to the strong women everywhere who make that road a little less bumpy and lonely.