Maybe I Am Growing Up After All

Tonight was the 8th grade dance. I strutted inside, looking around the dance floor, openly pretending to not see my students (who were playing the same game). Someone called my name, and as I turned around to wave, a kid plowed backwards into me. He popped my cheekbone with his elbow or fist...I'm not sure of the body part, but I know it hurt. It's still a little sore. Back in 1991, at the last 8th grade dance I attended, I would have been mortified and spent the rest of the evening staring into Lake Mirror and holding back tears. This time, I took in my student's laughing faces and joined in. I meant it. Then I ran around telling the story as many times as possible so I could laugh even more.

Comments

Christy said…

It's so great to be a grown-up! I never would have guessed that when I was in eighth grade!

7:10 PM

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