New kid in town

A few months ago, you were a sixth-grader at Collister Elementary in Boise, Idaho. One of the big kids on campus. You probably knew many of the two hundred and fifty kids in your school by name. Now you are starting seventh grade at Thomas W. Pyle  Middle School in Bethesda, Maryland, with well over a thousand students, none of whom you know.

Syd the new kid.

Collister Elementary provided a safe and nurturing learning environment. Middle school is not a safe and nurturing learning environment. Middle school is a dystopian mess populated with screeching adolescent howler monkeys. You wade into this shitstorm alone, the new kid in town. (And yes, you can use “shitstorm” so long as you a) use it in context and b) don’t use it in front of your teachers or other responsible adults or classmates whose parents are responsible adults who might call me to complain and then I will deny everything and launch counter-allegations).

By now I expect that you are rolling your eyes and shaking your head. That’s OK. You are entering a new life phase where you have begun to realize that I am horribly lame and could not be more clueless about every facet of life. Scientists call this phase “the tweens.” If we were having this discussion in person, this is when you would stomp out of the room and slam your bedroom door. I get it. Classic tween move. That’s why I am writing this open letter rather than bore you in person. Maybe out of curiosity, or maybe to reaffirm to your self that I am in fact a dork, you’ll read this when I’m not around. 

I’m writing because I think I have some expertise when it comes to being the new kid. I went to three high schools in four years. And I have a pretty good handle on what not to do in middle school where I basically screwed off, fell behind, and never caught up, particularly in mathematics. This is why I haven't been able to help you with math once you moved beyond multiplication and its tricky friend, division. Solve for X? Not so much. I spent my middle school math career drawing cartoons of me and my friends. So while I got laughs from my friends, I cartooned myself out of any chance to pursue nearly every career except the two I ended up doing: journalism and law. I want better for you.

You probably don’t need my advice. You are freaky smart and have your mother's competitiveness. Poised and confident. You generally know how to handle yourself. Like most of us, though, you also have vulnerabilities and insecurities. So I worry. It's my job to make sure that you are happy and that you turn out better than me. So I offer a few general suggestions to consider as you work your way through your new kid status. 

First, don't unleash the "dark arts" too soon. You have a quirky sense of humor and a gift for sarcasm and irony, the shadow world of the humor spectrum. But a biting wit is not always an advantage for the new kid. Give people time to get to know you before revealing your full powers. As a sixteen-year-old high school junior, I once was punched in the mouth by a senior with tattoos that could have been applied in a jailhouse by a cellmate with limited skills and crude of tools. Anyway, he punched me because he was confused about whether I was laughing at him or with him. I actually was laughing at him, but I set up the joke so he wouldn't figure that out until I was safely beyond his reach. I underestimated how quickly a muscle-bound nineteen-year-old with a juvenile record could turn to violence when he sensed that he might be the target of sarcastic humor. (Here's a frightening thought: your five-year-old sister reacts the same way in those circumstances, except she doesn't have any tattoos, of course. Not yet anyway). I guess what I am saying is take the time to get to know your audience before you inadvertently alienate potential friends. Or cause one of them to take a swing at you.

Second, surround yourself with good friends. You are a sweet, sensitive kid and intellectually curious as well. There are others like you. Find them. Your friend choices in Boise suggest you know what you're doing. Trust your instincts. The best way to meet kids who share your interests and sensibilities is to participate in activities that interest you. I know you will probably gravitate toward debate and orchestra and other nerd-related activities, but don't ignore the fact that smarts kids play basketball and join track too. Finding the right friends may not happen right away. Be patient and keep smiling. 

Third, be yourself. Well, mostly. I strongly urge you to disabuse yourself of your trademarked pairing of khaki pants with buttoned-to-the-top-polo-shirts. There are other ways to demonstrate your nerd credentials. As your mother has wisely counseled, in your early days at a new school, you want people to notice you and not be distracted by some sort of Alex P. Keaton/Steve Urkel fashion

mashup. And yes, I did just drop pop culture references from the nineteen eighties. You can use your google machine to look them up. But back to the point. Don't change your core values. Just avoid going full nerd for a while.

Finally, resist the urge to become one of the slackers. I don't think this will be a problem for you, but staying smart requires diligence. Do not be lulled into a false sense of complacency because school seems easy. You would be surprised at how quickly you can fall behind. Avoid the even greater sin of accepting mediocrity because you're not willing to work hard. It may seem attractive to have the freedom of not caring now, but you don't want to grow up to be that parent who can't help her kids with algebra homework. Or the one who becomes a lawyer because she didn't bother to figure out the laws of thermodynamics or behavioral finance theory.

Well, that's all I got. It's not much, but I know you have a good heart and a tenacity that will serve you well. Eat a healthy breakfast, get plenty of sleep, and don't forget to hydrate. So ends my lecture. You are free to dismiss me with a sure dad, whatever and go back to watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer on your laptop.