#7 - "Shelter in Place"

My teacher, Mr. Casey, told our class it might happen. I don't think anyone really believed him. Why would anyone want to close our school and have us start learning from home using our computer? He set up a web page on the weekend of March 7th and 8th. In class on Monday, March 9th, he explained how it would work if he had to teach our class online. He would post a video to provide what he called explicit instruction. Then he would post the reading and writing assignments for our 7th grade English Language Arts class. I'll admit that I never thought we'd use it. Little did I know that by Friday, March 13th, our school, along with almost every other school in the Santa Clara Valley, would be closed due to the Coronavirus.

When my mother first told me about the school closure, I thought it would be so cool to have two weeks at home to sleep late, play video games, maybe get together with some of my friends at The Great Mall, and stay up late every night. Before dinner on Friday night, however, my father sat me down to explain what was happening and why. It was scary to hear about the spread of the virus, but I still thought it was happening only in other places, not right here in Silicon Valley.

So I didn't do much that weekend. I stayed home, slept late, and played video games, but my mother wouldn't let me go to the mall. She said it might be safer if I just stayed home for a few days.

On Monday, Mr. Casey posted an assignment for us to do. I had to read a chapter in Paperboy, a book about a boy who had a stuttering problem. Then I had to answer three questions about that chapter and email my responses to him by 3:00. I followed the instructions and finished the work with relative ease. As we were getting ready for dinner that evening, my father was watching the local news on the television in the family room. As I walked into the room, my father said, "Sit down and listen to this."

California State Governor Gavin Newsom was speaking. It took me a few minutes to realize what he was saying. Then I just looked at my father and asked, "Is this for real?"

"It's something we need to do, Marcus. This Coronavirus thing is out of control -- not just here, but in many other countries, too."

"I thought that was just happening in China. Is it really something we have to worry about here?" I asked.

"Apparently, yes. I'll be honest with you, Marcus, I don't know much about it. I know a lot of people have died in China, but now reports are coming in that the virus is showing up across America and in other parts of the world, too. It's really bad up in the Seattle area, where your Auntie Clare lives."

"Is she going to be okay?"

"I certainly hope so, but at this point, we just don't know for sure. There's a lot we don't know for sure," he said. "So what Governor Newsom is saying is that he's ordering a shelter-in-place for everyone in the State of California for the next three weeks, meaning that we can't leave our home at all."

"We can't go outside... AT ALL?"

"Well, if someone needs to take care of an essential task, something like going to the grocery store to get food or going to the pharmacy to get meds, that's okay. Everyone else is being asked to stay home to slow the spread of the virus."

"Are we gonna stay home, too?"

"I suppose we are," my father responded. "From what I heard the governor say, if everyone does their part, we have a chance of slowing down the spread of the disease. If we don't do this, he predicted that so many people would get sick that there wouldn't be enough hospital beds in the state to take care of them. This is serious stuff, Marcus."

"Are you scared, Dad?" I asked.

"Hmmm,... scared? I'd have to say no. Not at this point. I am concerned, though. This could be really bad if it gets out of hand."

"So when do we have to start staying inside?"

"The governor said the shelter-in-place would begin at midnight tonight. So we won't make any plans to go out tomorrow,... or for the foreseeable future."

I sat on the ottoman processing what I had heard. Three weeks at home. I don't think I've ever spent three weeks at home. I have a pretty active family. I play soccer, basketball, and baseball throughout the year. My father plays in a recreational basketball league on Wednesday night. My mother goes out a few times every month, either to play Bunco with her friends from work, to meet up with another group of friends for drinks and dinner, or to watch a movie with my father. We eat dinner at local restaurants about twice a week and we go to church together every Sunday morning. We're not the kind of family to just sit at home and do nothing. Well,... we weren't until now.



Today is Monday, March 23rd. I don't have to do school work today, because our teachers were scheduled for a faculty inservice day today, so we had the day off on the original school calendar. I guess my teachers are doing their inservice using Zoom. My father uses Zoom for his work sometimes. That's okay with me. I got through the first full week of what the teachers are calling distance learning, but I'm grateful to have a day off today. I am concerned, though, because on the news last night, I heard the reporter say that schools may not open for the remainder of this school year.

I'm a pretty independent learner. I'm okay with all this new distance learning stuff. I check Mr. Casey's web page each morning, as well as the pages of my other teachers. I make a list of all the stuff I have to do that day. Then I just do it. I take breaks, like we do at school, around 10:30 and again around 12:30 for lunch. On most days, I'm finished my work by 2:30 or 3:00. What I don't like about this new way of doing school is that I don't get to hang out with my friends.

I've got a tight group of friends at school. I've known most of them since we all started kindergarten together. We haven't always all gotten along well, but now that we're in seventh grade, everyone's cool with everyone else. One kid, Jason, used to get picked on in fifth and sixth grade. There were a couple of guys in our class, and one girl, who seemed to enjoy making him cry or getting him angry. At the end of last year, JoJo and I confronted those kids and told them to stop picking on Jason. At first, they tried to say that they didn't pick on him, but JoJo, the biggest kid in our class, sort of got in their faces and said that we'd have Jason's back in seventh grade. When we returned for school in August, everyone was cool. No one messes with Jason now. In fact, a few of my classmates seem to go out of their way to help him with school work or to include him in their group for class projects. He even got invited to a couple of birthday parties earlier this year. It's really cool to see.

I have to admit that I'm not looking forward to tomorrow. Distance learning just isn't the same. I'm learning stuff okay, but, as I mentioned, I miss my friends. I miss hanging out with them during recess and lunch. I even miss some of my teachers. Wow. I never thought I'd say that. The scariest thing of all, though, is not knowing how long this is going to last. Will we be able to return to school after our spring break or will we actually do distance learning for the remainder of this school year? I just don't know. No one knows. The only thing I do know is that we're all in this together -- and we'll get through it.

©kmc2020

#6 - "A Better Place to Be"

Amanda transferred to Hamilton Middle School in her seventh grade year from a Catholic K-8 school in an upscale area of San José. Her mother had been born in the Philippines. Her father was a San José native of Korean parents. Amanda had been bullied mercilessly by a group of girls in her class throughout fifth and sixth grade. She was hoping that seventh grade might be different. It wasn’t.

Through the kindness of a friend, Amanda and her mother lived in a rented room in a home in the southwest area of San José. Her father had been killed in a tragic head-on collision when Amanda was in third grade. He was returning home from work one evening when a drunk driver in a large sport utility vehicle drifted into oncoming traffic on Monterey Highway. The SUV collided with his vehicle, killing him instantly. In the aftermath of that tragedy, Amanda and her mother needed housing assistance. It was then that Mrs. Pritchard, an old family friend whose husband had died several years earlier, invited Amanda and her mom to move in with her. With financial assistance from the school, Amanda was able to enroll in the local catholic elementary school for her fourth grade year.

Her first year at the school was uneventful. She struggled a bit academically in the first semester, but by January was achieving at grade-level in all her subjects. She made friends easily and felt accepted by her new classmates. For whatever reason, though, as often happens when kids approach the middle school years, the tide of public opinion turned against her at the beginning of her fifth grade year. From that time on, Amanda was excluded by many of her classmates from group activities during recess and lunch. When her teacher would instruct the students to break up into groups for a classroom activity, Amanda was routinely shunned by those who had once been her friends. Social isolation soon led to active bullying. On several occasions, Amanda found her lunch smashed inside her brown paper lunch bag. Someone smeared glue on several pages in her math book. During morning recess one day, a ball “accidentally” hit the back of her head with such force that it knocked her glasses off her face. And on yet another occasion, while using the rest room one day, someone tossed a large paper cup filled with water over the top of the stall door, drenching her hair and school uniform. This harassment continued throughout Amanda’s fifth and sixth grade years.

In early October of Amanda’s seventh grade year, her mother sought help from the seventh grade teacher and the school principal. Both tried to downplay the actions of the bullies as “normal middle school drama,” and encouraged Amanda to “be strong and just ignore it.” When the bullying intensified to the point where, in the first week of November, Amanda was cornered in the girls bathroom and kicked repeatedly by one of her classmates, her mother reported the attack to the pastor of the parish, who was the top administrator for the school. He promised to investigate the situation thoroughly.

Several other parents, who had heard about the incident, warned Amanda’s mother to be prepared for disappointment, reminding her that several of the mean girls in the class, including the student who had repeatedly kicked Amanda in the bathroom, were the children of some of the wealthiest benefactors of both the school and the parish. They told her that kids from wealthy families could get away with just about anything in that school.

As these parents had predicted, the pastor, too, tried to sweep the incident under the rug. In a meeting with Amanda and her mother, the pastor told them that in today’s world, the popular phrase “boys will be boys” applied equally to girls, and that it was Amanda’s responsibility to adapt to the social situation in the school and to develop the social skills needed to get along with her classmates. 

The next day, Amanda’s mother removed her from the school, packed up all their belongings, and moved in with friends in West San José so that Amanda could be enrolled in Hamilton Middle School. 

Amanda’s first day at Hamilton was the best day she’d had in school in the past several years. In a meeting before school, one of the school counselors, Mrs. McShane, assured Amanda’s mother that her daughter would be safe at Hamilton, and that they would check-in with her on a regular basis in the coming weeks. Mrs. McShane also contacted Priya, a seventh grade girl who had earned Mrs. McShane’s respect, to solicit her help with caring for Amanda during this time of transition. Priya was an exceptionally bright, perceptive, and compassionate young woman. Mrs. McShane, confident that Priya would be a tremendous resource for Amanda as she adjusted to her new school, summoned her to her office.

“Amanda, I’d like you to meet Priya,” she said in a soft, comforting voice.

“Hi,” Amanda replied shyly.

“Hi, Amanda. Welcome to Hamilton. I think you’re going to like it here,” Priya said with a sparkle in her eye.

The meeting went on for a while longer. Both Amanda and her mother felt confident that this was going to be a welcome change of scenery.

After school on Monday of her second week at Hamilton, Amanda and Priya walked over to Jamba Juice in the El Paseo de Saratoga Shopping Center. They had arranged for their mothers to pick them up there at 4:30. Amanda ordered a Peach Pleasure smoothie. Priya ordered her absolute favorite — a Razzmataz. When they got their drinks, they stepped outside and sat in the warm afternoon sun at one of the tables.

“Do you mind if I ask what happened at your old school?” Priya inquired cautiously.

For the next twenty minutes, Amanda openly shared stories of the daily harassment she had endured at the hands of her classmates, many of whom had been her friends. She told Priya how hurt she was by their actions, how betrayed and alone she felt. Priya understood. She, too, had gone through a period of time when some of her classmates had turned against her. She listened to Amanda’s stories compassionately, not saying much, but attentively focusing on her every word. Amanda felt totally accepted. She knew that Priya understood her, related to her stories, and would do anything necessary to protect Amanda in her new school environment.

Finally, Priya spoke up. “I don’t want you to think I’m conceited, but… I’m pretty well-respected at Hamilton. I wouldn’t say I’m popular, but popularity is over-rated anyway. My classmates seem to accept me for who I am, and, for some reason, I know that I have the ability to influence many of them in a positive way. It’s actually a pretty intense responsibility for me, but I try to use that influence to make Hamilton a better place to be. If we hang out together for awhile, I think you’ll be accepted here, too.”

“That sounds good. Thanks,” Amanda responded. “I’ve never been popular, either, but I don’t want to be. I just want to fit in with everyone else. Hamilton seems like a pretty cool place.”

“It really is,” Priya replied. “I think you found your new home.” 

Amanda smiled. “Hey, there’s my mom. I gotta go,” she said. “Thanks for listening to me, Priya. You’re awesome!”

“You are, too, Amanda! See you tomorrow.”

In the weeks and months that followed their initial meeting, Amanda and Priya became very good friends. Priya, who was an excellent tennis player, invited Amanda to participate on the tennis team. Amanda would be the first to admit that she wasn’t very good at tennis, but the connections she made with her teammates was one of many reasons Amanda cherished her experience at Hamilton.

As one might expect, Amanda’s mother was tremendously grateful to see her daughter smiling again. She had endured far too many tears in the previous years — Amanda’s, as well as her own. 

That night, after Amanda had gone to sleep, her mother was reading a magazine article and came across the following quote by Dag Hammarskjöld, the former Secretary General of the United Nations. She re-read the quote several times, knowing that it held a powerful message for both her and Amanda: “For all that has been, thanks. For all that will be, yes!” 

© 2017

#5 - "The Cash Box"

After several months of unusually persistent rain in the Santa Clara Valley, the sun was finally shining brightly at Hamilton Middle School. The temperature around noon time had already hit the low 70’s. Jason and Mateo walked out of English class and headed to their lockers to pick up their lunches.

“What do you have today?” Jason asked Mateo.

“My Grandma made some killer chicken burritos last night. There was one extra for my lunch today. How ‘bout you?”

“We didn’t have much in our refrigerator this morning, so Mom stopped at Subway on our way to school. I got a footlong ham with pepper jack cheese,” Jason replied.

“Cool. Let’s hit up the Game Club. It’s Thursday.”

The two boys headed straight for Room H1A. A group of kids met there every Thursday at lunch to play cards or any of the many video or board games available there. The two faculty advisors for the Game Club, Ms. Green, who worked in the library, and Ms. Sharff, one of the teachers, were both well liked by the students. They took turns supervising the room on Thursdays. On any given day, there may be as many as twenty students participating in the club, or as few as three or four. On this day, however, because of the long-awaited Spring weather outside, Mateo was thinking that most kids would probably choose to stay outside.

The door to Room H1A was open when the boys arrived. Much to their surprise, the room was empty. They remembered that Ms. Scharff had supervised the activity last week, so they expected to see Ms. Green. Without giving it too much thought, the boys entered the room and sat at one of the tables to eat their lunch. It didn’t take long for Jason to notice the cash box.

“Dude, check it out!” he said to Mateo in a low voice. Jason’s eyes, and a slight nod of his head, cued Mateo to look at the table next to the teacher’s desk. There, on the table, sat an open cash box filled with bills of various denominations, as well as a fair amount of coins. 

“Hmmm…,” Mateo responded. “That’s probably the cash box from the library. Ms. Green is supposed to be here today.”

There was an awkward silence before Jason stood up and walked over to the door. He stepped outside, looked around, and returned to the table. 

“Dude, there’s like no one around. Let’s grab some of that cash and get out of here.”

“You’re kidding, right?” Mateo inquired.

“Why not? If we get out of here quickly, no one’s gonna know we took it.”

“We can’t do that!” Mateo protested. “That’s stealing.”

“Like you’ve never stolen anything before? Don’t be such a dweeb.”

Mateo looked directly at Jason. At first, he didn’t say anything. Jason took a bite of his sandwich, then looked nervously toward the door. As he stood up to look around outside again, Mateo asked, “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

“Hell yeah, I’m serious,” Jason replied. He turned and walked back to the table. “We can split whatever we get fifty-fifty.”

Mateo had not yet taken a bite of his burrito. He was stunned that his good friend would even think of stealing money, much less actually suggest that they do so. He just sat there looking at the burrito in his hands.

“What? Are you afraid we’ll get caught?” Jason asked.

“That’s a possibility, yeah, but it’s not just about getting caught.”

“What do you mean?” 

Mateo looked directly into Jason’s eyes. “It’s wrong, Dude. We can’t just go around taking stuff that doesn’t belong to us.”

“Now you sound like my pastor,” Jason replied sarcastically. “What,… like I’m gonna go to hell or something?”

“I don’t know about that, but I do know that taking the money is dishonest, not to mention illegal — and it’s not the right thing to do.”

Jason laughed. “Since when are you such an expert on what’s the right thing to do? Weren’t you the one who found a poem online and turned it in as your own work in English class?”

“Yeah, I did. It was wrong, and I paid the price when I got caught.”

“We’re not gonna get caught,” Jason said assuringly. Again, he got up and walked anxiously over to the door. By now it was clear that no other students would be coming in to play games. The only question in Jason’s mind was where Ms. Green might be — and when she’d return.

“I’m not gonna do it. It’s stealing, and that’s just wrong.”

“Don’t be such a prude,” Jason protested.

“A what?” inquired Mateo.

“A prude. You know,… someone who’s like all perfect and everything and thinks they’re better than everyone else.”

“You know I’m not that way. I’m just not someone who’s gonna take something that isn’t mine. I don’t know why Ms. Green left that box on the table, but it would be wrong for us to take any of it. It’s just wrong!”

Jason took another bite of his sandwich. With his mouth full, he began to speak. “Yeah, you’re right. It’s just that it would be so easy to get away with it. No one would ever suspect us of taking the money.”

“Why do you think that?” Mateo asked.

“We both have like good reputations in this school. No one would ever think that we would steal money from a teacher’s desk.”

“Think about that,” replied Mateo. “Think about what you just said. Yeah, we both have good reputations. Isn’t that important to you? Can you imagine how that would change if we DID get caught? No one would ever look at us the same way again.”

Jason paused before speaking. “Yeah,… I guess you’re right. Remember when Cullen got caught stealing art supplies from Mr. York’s classroom? Since then, no one trusts him.”

“Exactly,” responded Mateo. “I don’t want people to look at us that way. There’s always a price to pay for being dishonest.”

As Mateo finished that last sentence, Ms. Green walked through the door, surprised to see the two boys sitting at the table.

“You’re here!” she said in a startled voice. “It’s so nice outside today. After all those days of rain, I didn’t expect anyone to want to sit inside and play games today. I’m sorry I’m late. I had to make some photocopies for a class coming to the library this afternoon.”

The boys looked at each other.

“No problem, Ms. Green,” Jason exclaimed. “We just wanted a comfortable place to eat, then we’re going outside. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all.”

Jason took the last bite of his sandwich, wiped his mouth with a napkin, and stuffed the wrapper and napkins into the Subway bag. Mateo placed his uneaten burrito back into the Tupperware container his Grandmother had given him. Then the two got up to leave.

“Thanks, Ms. Green. Have a nice afternoon,” said Mateo.

“You too, boys. Enjoy the sunshine.”

On his way home after school, Mateo decided to stop by Smashburger, in the Westgate Center, for a vanilla milkshake. Miss Lucy, the manager at Smashburger, put some extra whipped cream on top, just the way she knows Mateo likes it. As he walked away from the counter to look for a place to sit, he noticed Nick sitting alone at a table near the side entrance. Nick was an exceptionally well-educated homeless man who often hung out at the Westgate Center. He knew Mateo, as well as his friends Jason and DeShawn.

“Hey, Nick,” Mateo said enthusiastically. “What’s up?”

“Not much, Dude. How ‘bout you?”

Mateo paused briefly, wondering if he should tell Nick about the situation he experienced at lunch. He didn’t want to rat-out his friend, Jason. Then he realized that they hadn’t actually done anything wrong, so he spoke up.

“Something happened during lunch today. It was really awkward.”

“Tell me about it, Dude.”

Again, Mateo paused, then continued. He explained the entire situation to Nick, who listened attentively without saying anything. When Mateo finished, Nick turned in his chair and faced Mateo directly.

“Dude,… you’ve got integrity. I could be wrong, but I think most kids your age would have taken the money. What you did… that’s awesome.”

“Thanks, Nick. That makes me feel a little better.”

“A LITTLE better?” Nick cried out. “Dude, you’re my hero! I’m proud of you. Your parents would be proud of you. And you should be proud of yourself! You did the right thing.”

Mateo responded, “It was just so hard, because Jason is my friend. I felt like I betrayed him.”

“Dude, you didn’t betray him. You saved him! Can you imagine how he’d be feeling right now if he’d taken the money and been caught? In fact, even if he took the money and didn’t get caught, I think he’d be feeling pretty low right now. He knows it’s the wrong thing to do. Your conscience never lets you off the hook when you make bad choices like that.”

“Yeah, that’s true.”

“You displayed true integrity today, Dude. You know, doin’ the right thing, even when no one’s looking. That’s integrity. It’s making the right choice, even when there’s no chance of getting caught. When you live with integrity, you can sleep better at night, knowing that you did the right thing.”

“Thanks, Nick. I needed to hear that.”

“Like I said, Dude, I’m proud of you. And maybe, just maybe, Jason will thank you some day.”

Mateo smiled. “Hey, I gotta go,” he said. “Nice talkin’ to you.”

“Catch you later, Dude.”

Mateo started toward the door, then stopped abruptly. Whenever he was with his friends, and they happened to see Nick, Nick would always share a Quote of the Day with them.

“Hey Nick, do you have a Quote of the Day for me today?”

Without hesitation, Nick spoke up with a broad smile on his face. “Oh, yeah, I do. Listen carefully.” He spoke slowly, “Wisdom is knowing the right path to take. Integrity is taking it.”

Mateo understood clearly. “Thanks, Nick. I like that one.”

He walked out the door, stopped briefly, took a deep breath, and continued his walk home, knowing that he’d done something good that day, and confident that he’d get a good night’s sleep.

© 2017

#4 - "A Sad Reality... Explained"

My name is Travis. I’d like to tell you what I learned about social status — how kids relate to other kids — during my middle school years. Maybe it will help you to understand what you see and experience in your school today.

When my Mom told me that we would be moving to San José, California, I sunk into a deep depression. I loved living in Fitchburg. I loved my school. I loved my friends. I didn’t want to leave Massachusetts. My Dad’s death was totally unexpected. He was only forty years old when he had a massive heart attack. Despite the efforts of an amazing medical team at UMass Memorial Hospital, he died within an hour. My Mom picked me up at St. Bernard’s, where I was a first-semester seventh grader. I didn’t know why she was picking me up from school in the middle of the day, but when we got to the car, she broke down crying and told me what had happened. Six weeks later, she told me that we were moving to San José, where her parents lived. We’d move in with them for awhile until, as my Mom put it, “we get our feet back on the ground.”

Mom enrolled me at Hamilton Middle School. It was just a few blocks from my grandparents’ home in West San José. It didn’t take long for me to realize that the move might not be so bad after all. There was a shopping mall within walking distance of our new home. A restaurant there called Smashburger had the best burgers, fries, and shakes I’d ever had. Across the street was another shopping center. There was a Chipotle restaurant there. I’d never had such a big burrito before. In fact, in Fitchburg, I don’t know that there were any Mexican restaurants at all. Across another street, there was a candy store. It wasn’t like any candy store I’d visited in Fitchburg. It was classy. They even gave me a free piece of candy just for walking in. I think See’s chocolate is the best candy I’ve ever tasted.

Yeah, so the depression didn’t last all that long. I like to eat, and I quickly learned that there were lots of good places to get a meal in San José. In Fitchburg, my favorite restaurant was Vito’s, which served Italian food. I didn’t think I’d ever find a place that could compare with it. Well, not far from Chipotle is another restaurant called Tomatina. I’m not sure that it’s any better than Vito’s, but it’s just as good. That’s where my grandparents took us the night we arrived from the east coast.

I guess Mom had told Grandpa that I was a bit apprehensive about moving out west, so he decided to have a surprise waiting for me when we arrived. When we got back to the house from having dinner at Tomatina, he handed me a wrapped box. I opened it. It was a t-shirt for my new school. It had the words “Hamilton Tigers” printed on the front. I liked it. At St. Bernard’s, I had to wear a uniform — the exact same thing every day. It consisted of a white polo shirt, embroidered with the letters “SB” on the left-front, and navy blue Docker-style pants. It wasn’t all that bad, just boring. At Hamilton, there was no uniform — only a dress code. It was pretty lenient, so I didn’t have a problem with it. Unlike St. Bernard’s, I could wear a t-shirt to school. I decided that on my first day at Hamilton, I’d wear my new shirt. Big mistake.

“Dude, what’s with the dorky shirt?” a kid asked me as I strolled onto campus for my first day of classes. It was late-March, but the weather in San José, unlike Fitchburg, was Spring-like. I was wearing the Hamilton t-shirt with black shorts. I thought it looked okay, but I quickly realized that no one else — not even one other student — wore any article of clothing associated with the school. In Fitchburg, it was quite common to see kids, and even some parents, walking around town with Longsjo Middle School t-shirts, sweatshirts, and jackets. I never wore that Hamilton shirt to school again.

In all, kids at the school were pretty cool. Like most middle schools, I guess, there were cliques at Hamilton. In fact, I guess you could even say they had a “caste system,” like they have in India. After seeing how students interact with each other, I realized that the middle school caste system has five levels, though one of the levels has two parts. Let me explain. It’s sort of complicated.

The top tier, a relatively small group, consists of the true leaders in the school. These are the kids who are highly respected by their peers. Sometimes they don’t even realize how highly respected they are, because popularity isn’t that important to them. They appreciate their friends, and they realize that they are well-accepted by their classmates, but they often don’t recognize themselves as leaders, nor do they always fully understand the influence they have on their classmates. Sometimes, kids in this top tier might be involved in student government, serving in elected leadership roles in the school, but not always. These kids have a lot of influence, though. Without being bossy, or trying to force their ways on anyone else, what they say goes, just because of who they are.

It’s kind of interesting, but kids cannot place themselves in the top tier. Those who try to do so won’t find themselves there. Students are put in the top tier by other kids — those who recognize that there is something special about these gifted individuals. I was thinking about this one day and realized that there are certain qualities or characteristics which these top-tier students most often possess. They may not have all of them, but they pretty much have to have most of them to be considered a part of this highly-respected group. Coincidentally, the qualities all begin with the letter “A” — and there are twelve of them, or perhaps thirteen, in all. I’ll explain them in no particular order, because I don’t think the order really matters.

The first quality is academic success. Kids who find themselves at the top of the social ladder usually get good grades. They may not be the smartest kids in the class, but they tend to be conscientious students and generally do well academically. The second quality is athletic ability. Again, they don’t have to be superstars on their teams, but those identified by their classmates as true leaders are usually involved in athletics. The third quality is that they are articulate. These students are not afraid to share their opinions in class discussions, although they always do so tactfully and respectfully. These kids are also not afraid to call out another classmate who might be picking on one of the weaker students. Because of their status among their peers, they can get away with doing this.

The fourth quality of those in the top tier of the social structure is that they tend to be amicable. They get along well with others. They’re basically friendly and kind to everyone. They don’t pick on weaker students, and rarely do they participate in gossip of any kind. The fifth quality is gratitude. They are appreciative of their giftedness. They are aware of and grateful for the people, things, opportunities, and experiences they have in their life. The sixth quality of true leaders is approachability. Others feel comfortable talking with them, or going to them for help with something. They never make people feel stupid or unwelcome in any situation.

The seventh quality these kids have is assertiveness. This is very different from aggressiveness. Those who are assertive have the ability to stand up for themselves and others with conviction. They have a confidence in themselves which they are able to convey in a respectful, non-threatening way. No one would mistake them for being weak. The eighth quality of these leaders is that they are ambitious. They don’t wait for things to happen. They don’t sit back and just hope that success comes their way. They go out and get it. They’re not afraid to work hard to achieve their goals. The ninth quality of top-tier students is that they are authentic. They don’t try to be anyone other than who they truly are. So many middle school kids put on masks, trying to be someone or something that they’re not. These true leaders don’t have the need to do this.

There are three more qualities which often describe kids in this top group in the caste system. Top-tier students tend to be physically attractive. They’re not good-looking because of the labels on the clothes they wear, how they style their hair, or how they put on make-up. Some middle school kids go to great lengths to try to look good. True leaders don’t have to do this. Without any effort, there is just something about them, an aura, perhaps, which makes them attractive to others. It’s hard to explain. The eleventh quality on my list is that these kids tend to be accommodating. They may have a specific way they’d like to do something, but they are amazingly flexible when it comes to working with others. They might have an idea for a group project, but they won’t force their idea on the group. They know how to work as a team, to negotiate, and they’ll gladly take a back-seat to another student when it comes to decision-making on a project. Whether the group chooses their idea or not, they will work tirelessly to ensure the success of the group. Finally, these top-tier students are altruistic. They are consistently and unselfishly concerned for the welfare of others.

There is one other trait, which I hesitate to mention. This trait might be the least important of all the traits I’ve talked about, but it is often an accurate descriptor of kids in the top tier. Not always, but more often than not, these kids are affluent. In other words, their families tend to be financially well-off. I mention this only because their affluence provides them with the opportunity to participate in activities with other students, regardless of the cost. Affluence can be a tremendous social advantage.

The bottom tier is just the opposite. These are the kids who are picked on. The social outcasts. The untouchables. These are the kids who sit alone at lunch, or, if they’re not alone, they’re with other students from this same social tier. These are the kids who cringe when the P.E. teacher says, “Okay, let’s choose-up teams for a little softball today,” knowing that they will be the last chosen. Or, in the classroom, when a teacher announces, “Okay, break up into groups of five,” these are the kids who just sit there in silence, knowing they’re not going to be selected by their classmates. Instead, the teacher may end up assigning them to a team or group, just so that everyone is involved in the activity. These kids, who may lack effective communication or social skills, may also lack many of the qualities identified with those in the top tier.

Not surprisingly, the largest of the five groups of the social caste system is the middle class — the commoners. These are the kids who just exist day to day. They’re not the leaders, but they’re not marginalized. They’re not considered to be popular, but they’re also not treated as outcasts. They participate in school and classroom activities to the extent that they choose. They come and go each day without any major disturbances to their routine. Most kids, about 60% of all students, fit into this middle group.

Between the middle group and the bottom tier is another group, larger than the bottom tier, but significantly smaller than the middle class. These kids, for the most part, are not actively picked on or excluded, at least not to the extent experienced by those in the lowest tier, but there’s something different about these kids which makes it clear to everyone, including themselves, that they just don’t fit in. Again, a lack of self-confidence, ineffective social skills, or a lack of some of the top-tier qualities might contribute to a student landing in this group. The two bottom tiers together comprise about 20% of the students.

Finally, there’s the group between the middle class and the top-tier. I mention this group last because it’s a complicated group. I think there are actually two sub-groups within this one level of the middle school caste system. One sub-group, which I would describe as a positive group, are those who exhibit many, or even most, of the characteristics one would associate with the top-tier, yet, for whatever reason, have not achieved that level of status or recognition. These tend to be good kids who, for the most part, are good to other kids. The other sub-group, however, can be very dangerous. I would describe these students as “the wanna-be’s.” These are the kids who think they are, or wish they were, in the top tier, but they’re not, and they never will be. These kids tend to think of themselves as better than everyone else. They resent those in the top tier, but they can never express that resentment, because it would make them look bad. Instead, they simply act as if they are a part of that elite group of leaders, even though they know they’re not. This group of students tends to be the meanest in the class. These are the students most likely to do the bullying, in a futile attempt to raise their status among their classmates. These two sub-groups, along with the top tier students, comprise about 20% of the student population.

It didn’t take long for me to recognize that the student who challenged my choice of attire on my first day on campus at Hamilton was one of the wanna-be’s. I’m pretty sure he knew I was the new kid on campus, and he used his question as a vain attempt to enhance his status. My decision to ignore him, pretending that I had not heard his question, was probably the best possible response. He never bothered me again. I also learned that Hamilton students don’t sport the attire of their school, and that’s okay, too.

Like most kids, it didn’t take long for me to understand where I found myself in this middle school caste system. I was dead-center in the middle. I made friends with some kids, but not all. To the best of my knowledge, no one hated me. I was never picked-on, nor did I pick on anyone else, and I was included in most situations. I soon identified the top-tier kids in the school, and it was clear to me why those kids had been given such an honor by their fellow students. I also recognized which students had ended up at the bottom of the caste system, and I felt bad for them. While I never went out of my way to make friends with any of them, I also never participated in the social cruelty perpetuated against them.

I remember well one of the lessons I learned at St. Bernard’s in Fitchburg. My fifth grade teacher was a nun — Sister Theresa Marie. She was young, intelligent, and friendly, and she related extremely well with her students. One day, she came into the classroom after lunch and was clearly upset. Something had happened during lunch. I never knew the specific details, but I do know that the situation involved some of my classmates picking on one of the more vulnerable kids in our class. After telling us, in no uncertain terms, that bullying would not be tolerated at St. Bernard’s, she ended with a quote for us to consider: “There, but for the grace of God, go I.” 

I didn’t understand the quote at the time, but I’ve never forgotten it. Now that I’m a little older, and, perhaps, a bit wiser, those words are powerful for me.

© 2017