Everyone is an embarrassing, cringy tween at one point. if it were a competition, I would be in first place with at least seven gold medals. My “absurd” interests in the European theater of the World Wars and the Soviet side of the Cold War are the main reasons.
With my interests on top of a speech impediment and lack of social skills, I was set up to crash and burn with my peers and thrive with my teachers. I did have friends, but only one or two at a time, all of whom I eventually pulled away from.
I was put in a Catholic school after my mom decided to pull me out of public school. The building was older than my grandparents by 20 years and was only two stories tall. It still had radiators and asbestos in the basement of the building. I was too young to understand everything happening entirely, but I still had transfer anxiety. I spent first to seventh grade at this school before it was merged with four other schools into two big ones.
Most of elementary and middle school would be spent inside, not going out often, and when I did, it was mainly with family. Looking back, I seemed like the stereotypical autistic loser: no friends, no romantic partner, bullied, straight-A’s but could not complete the simplest tasks, and forever doomed to be living in my dark room with no lock since my mom thinks I will die while sleeping.
I had a strange relationship with school, I loved learning and thought most of my teachers were okay, but the harassment and isolation from most of my peers made me despise it. I would go through each day fearing what someone could do to me. Each school break was a form of salvation for me, each one meaning less time away from my aggressors.
I remember being told the iconic two extra weeks of spring break before COVID. I shook my water bottle like a celebratory bottle at the end of a war. I thought it would be a smooth ride into summer break and then I would be able to move in with my mom for high school. Right about the latter but smooth ride into my last summer before high school? Further from the truth.
My experience online was nothing interesting, other than getting into streamers and drawing, making my days stuck home alone a bit more entertaining. As much as I want to feel like my freshman and sophomore years were robbed from me, I can’t. COVID was what it was and it happened to be during my first years of high school.
This does mean my culture shock of public school was delayed, not kicking in until my junior year when I was fully back in person and it was overwhelming. After the strict rules of Catholic school, the simple idea of being allowed to choose my classes and having dyed hair blew my mind. Even after my elementary schools merged we did not have a proper cafeteria, an auditorium, or even a nurse’s office.
OH was way bigger too, even if the physical buildings were combined. There are more than two clubs and said clubs have more than five people. We have kids from everywhere around the world, from Guatemala to the Philippines. There is an elevator and ramps meaning my poor grandmother won’t have to climb upstairs for 20 minutes.
With all of the new opportunities I have, I realize how glad I am for what I have done. I would rather regret what I did back then than overthink what didn’t happen.
I am so grateful that I survived middle school to live out my teenage dream: having friends to hang out with. I’m convinced my mom is still shocked to see people actually waiting for me instead of ditching me in a mall.
And I, of course, want to thank the teachers and counselors who have stuck by me, but I want to thank Ms. Duffy the most. Even being a teacher’s aide in your classroom for one day was amazing, so my entire senior year has been unbelievable. The experiences, lessons, and friends I made will forever be held close to my heart.
To future journalists and students in general, please be patient with all of your special needs classmates and try to be as understanding as possible.
