A Jr. High Teacher

Seventh Grade boys love me. I know that sounds extremely creepy but it's the gospel truth. Today in my advisory class I had four middle school boys piled up around me, all talking over each other, each attempting to tell me about thier girlfriends they somehow have at the tender age of 13. And I realized that, despite the fact that they were making me wish they would back up due to thier over-heating, sweaty, and smelly end-of-the-school-day teenage boy bodies, they are the reason I believe I'm meant to be a Jr. High Teacher.

The whole time I've been in college I've thought I wanted to teach High School. Older kids mean better and more meaningful lessons...right? Or at least that's what I've always thought. But then I was assigned to teach all these Sevies and my whole thought process about that changed.

Jr. High kids still want to pile around my desk and tell me things about their lives. And the things they have to tell me, for the most part, are still innocent and sweet. Jr. High kids still think you're cool and that you have something to offer them. They don't hate school yet, though they're starting to figure out it isn't all rainbows and unicorns and the hate is just around the corner for some of them. Jr. High kids still bring you treats at Christmas time because to them you are still someone who wants to and can help them because you are their teacher. Jr. High kids don't know all the answers and don't pretend to. They don't care if they don't know anything at all really. Jr. High kids are still teachable and I have had some of the best discussions with these hoodrats, some even bringing me to tears because they were that meaningful and touching.

I've loved the time I've been able to spend teaching the Seventh Graders of Brockbank Jr. High. I've learned a lot from them and I've found that I love the teacher I am when I'm with them. And so I think I want to stick with Jr. High.