Suburban Goddess

Jef got me thinking about how fast kids are growing up today and reminded me of last night’s disturbing incident.

Stepboy is in for the summer, freshly graduated from the fifth grade. Last night he handed me his yearbook, and I was instantly transported back to my own childhood. In fifth grade we had just moved from Mississippi to Louisiana, a mere 8-mile move, but a whole new world. We were “city-folk” now. I struggled my fifth-grade year to make friends and deal with being a small fish in a big pond. (I was voted class favorite the prior year in my tiny Mississippi school, now I was completely unknown). By “city” standards, we were poor. I didn’t even know what a “designer” label was, so needless to say, I didn’t fit in very well. Eventually I met a group of other misfits who became my friends. Our recesses were spent discussing boys, makeup, and who was the cutest guy on Saved By The Bell. You didn’t talk back to your parents or teachers, you did as you were told, and you didn’t get to eat cheeseburgers and chicken nuggets everyday. If you were given the rare opportunity to make a decision, it was usually overturned by an adult.

But as I looked at this yearbook, I didn’t see fifth grade as I remembered it. The girls looking back at me had knowing eyes, expertly applied make-up and professionally coiffed hair. Some had French manicures. In the candid shots, many struck Pussycat Dolls poses, sexiness exuding from the pages. The boys stood with arms crossed, leaning back AKA “gangsta” style. Some flashed symbols with their fingers. I actually found two photos where the boys were flipping off the camera (guess the yearbook editor missed that). As I turned page after page, I was amazed at how OLD these children appeared to be. But the true shocker was the signatures at the end of the book. Under three or four of the names, there was an anagram. I was familiar with a few of these when I was younger; I myself often signed letters to friends LYLAS. But in case there was any confusion, one of the girls has written it out: H.A.K.A.S - Have A Kick Ass Summer.

I don’t know why it shocked me so much. I guess because if I had brought that home, my parents would have called that child’s parents and let them have it for putting filthy words in my fifth-grade yearbook. Not that “ass” is such a horrible word, but it really has no place in a 12-year-old’s vocabulary, much less in their yearbook. It’s not like I don’t know Stepboy uses it; I’ve caught him throwing around grown-up words before. But how do I impart that there is a time & place for such things? And it’s not his fault; he didn’t write it. It just made me utterly sad, because it shows me the complete and total lack of respect today’s children possess. Kids aren’t kids anymore.

Our neighbor was discussing this with us the other day too, and she dropped another bombshell on us. “Ask K. to update you on the bases,” she laughed. K is her high-school daughter, who quickly rattled off the bases with a nervous giggle & a blush. I almost hit the tile. It wasn’t at ALL how I remembered it. Since when did ORAL become part of rounding the bases??? And this girl was only mildly nervous about telling us. In ninth grade, that was still the most disgusting thing I could ever imagine. I could only imagine if my mother had put me on the spot like that with one of our neighbors; I would have died of embarrassment before the first word ever escaped my lips.

“Kristie, tell Ms. H what “fingers” means!” WTF???

Suddenly I understood how my grandmother felt the first time I tried to get her to listen to Will Smith’s “Parents Just Don’t Understand.” Mild by comparision, I know, but it had to be pretty radical for her. I can only imagine what lies in store for me when my daughter hits her teenage years….

This entry was posted on June 2, 2006 at 1:20 pm and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Responses are currently closed, but you can trackback from your own site.