My Middle School Was Sketchier Than Yours

Picture it- some small town in North Carolina, a middle school rumored to be a former prison. The windows were barred, some classrooms were simply trailers, and it was the only middle school in the district. I was a chubby little girl with a weird penchant for pretending I was a horse when walking in line. I also had a weird wardrobe- my first day at the middle school I sported a crushed velvet tracksuit that was a deep purple all over.

I thought it was cool at the time, OK?

Anyway, I was the awkward, weird, chubby girl at school, and I was TERRIFIED of meeting new children from the other elementary schools. I was scared of all the rumors that in middle school a lot of fights break out. I was scared that I would never make new friends.

My first day of my 6th grade math class, my teacher goes over the syllabus, as teachers often do. She pauses however, and seems to go into an existential crisis.

"All of us are going to die someday- every one of you is going to die, whether you like it or not."

A awkward silence permeates the room for a few seconds before one of my classmates breaks it.

"Not me, I am going to live forever!"

My classmates' optimistic cries rang on deaf ears as my teacher quickly retorted "No you won't- SIT DOWN." I was afraid of that teacher from that point forward.

But that isn't the sketchy part, that's just a fun story. No, the sketchiest experience I had at my middle school was during that same first week in our science class which was, ironically, taught by the same teacher that had warned us all of our impending deaths.

This young boy sat behind me in class towards the end of the week, at which point I had already been labeled a nerd and a goody-two-shoes. I had never interacted with him before, but he seemed quiet, maybe even a little agitated most of the time. He seemed like the type of cool kid that would probably hate me. He probably did hate me.

On this fateful day this boy- let's call him Jeremy- leaned over and asked for my homework. I was confused and scared of getting in trouble, so I said no. He leaned in and whispered in my ear "give me yourhomework or I will f*cking kill you b*tch." At this point I was terrified, so I turned around a bit to find he was holding a large pair of scissors in his hand.

Now, you have to understand that, while I was terrified of this kid killing me with a pair of scissors, I was more scared of getting caught cheating, so I said "I'm sorry I can't do that, we will get in trouble!" No wonder I was the class nerd and goody-two-shoes.

I turned back around in the hopes that he would drop it, which for a brief moment, it seemed like he might have. He grew quiet, but then pulled on my hair slightly. I froze, unsure of what to do next and terrified of making a scene and then getting in trouble. Then I heard that sound- the distinct sound of scissors cutting through clumps of hair. Jeremy decided my punishment for non-compliance would be chopping off my hair.

After class we had gym, and throughout my entire journey through the hallway, other kids were stopping me to inform me that someone had cut my hair (He took about 10 inches of hair from only half my head). I thought I was going to die.

I went home that die crying to my mom with half a head full of hair, to whom I explained what happened and how I was scared to go back to school. She was, understandably, furious and called the school to inform them of these events.

In our next class, Jeremy was nowhere to be seen. He got suspended for 2 weeks, they said, and he got moved to a different class schedule so we wouldn't be in the same room together. Relieved by this news, I relaxed for the rest of the period, until the "we're all gonna die" lady pulled me aside. "Why didn't you say something when Jeremy was cutting your hair and threatening you?" I nervously explained that I was scared of making a scene. She replied with "well, if you ever want to slap him in the face for what he did, I will look the other way."

I awkwardly thanked her and went on about my day, pondering whether I should tell someone that the teacher just encouraged me to assault another student cause he cut my hair. I didn't until years later, but maybe I should have.

In any case, that was my welcome to middle school. Hopefully my experience was more sketchy than yours.