Marching to Middle School

Age 12 is the rite of passage that no little kid survives.

By Mike Mallowe

My grandson hasn’t even started Middle School yet, but I’m ready to play hooky. Or scream. Or both.

Becoming a grandfather hit me hard the first time it came: the sweet unexpected, undeserved second chance to raise little kids. To experience redemption. Paradise.

Every new school year has been a challenge, but at least my grandson has gotten the chance to experience it on familiar ground — as a little kid, and he has been so great at being a little kid. He even managed to navigate the institutional terrors of the Zoom classes that we inflicted on him and his classmates — and they all lived to tell about it.

But, with Middle School, I’m not so sure. This qualifies as that apocryphal “uncharted territory” that we talk about when we have no idea what else to say.

A few weeks ago he turned 12. His irrepersible “little kidness” is coming in for its last hooray. And, I still don’t know how to help him, because I never knew how to help myself.

Twelve was the number I’ve feared since the night he was born — Number 12. We used to call 11 the “old age of childhood”. I don’t know what the current terms of art are now, but they can’t be very reassuring. Age 12, though, is unmistakable: it’s the short-cut to teenager-hood. And, I’m scared. So is he, probably — and that’s what makes it even worse. Girls, cars, parties, beer, secrets, smart phones, and sullen silences. Heww might as well be a grown-up.

It wasn’t that long ago that we knew exactly what to do — grab an armful of presents; blow up the balloons: order the cake; invite the usual suspects and maybe even splurge on a lawn-wrecking bouncy house. Even I couldn’t mess that up. Now, I realize that the moment is fast-approaching when I won’t be able to do anything right. At least I’m used to that. My wife has been practicikng it on me for a long time. And, she isn’t wrong. But, I did have some wins, too.

I was an absolute terror in a toy store. I knew just what he liked and I was ready to sit right down and play with him. Confession time, here: I always loved toys and I still do. Buy, that’s another story for another absolution.

Now, I happen to be a teacher, too, and every student I’ve ever talked with — really talked — has assured me that if anything bad is going to happen, it will happen in Middle…