subs sit down

back in 1994-95, i was in the integral period of life one would call the sixth grade. 6th grade was the place where you realized that no matter how far you reached the top, you were always relatively below someone else. at least that's where i figured it out. hell, as a fifth grader, everything was on lock. elementary school held no bars and we, as a class, ran the school. the tots were afraid of us, the teachers gave us more responisiblity, and parents started to ignore us now that our innocent chubby cheeks were fading away. yep, 5th grade was magical. 6th grade was an epiphany.

i remember the first few moments of walking into Ralph J. Bunche Middle School (shoutout) and thinking "Wow, all these colors! This must be a great school! So much fun and excitement must go on here for it to be vivid and colorful!" And it was - vivid and colorful. Random walls were painted bright blue against adjacnet, bland walls of off-white. Huge columns, or pillars rather, that ran veritcally through the school, were painted bright pink or orange. And beautiful paintings done by students (decades ago) shined with grace upon the entrance. Many middle schools paint such a picture for entering 6th graders. No need to worry though, the "other students" paint reality real quick.

my first true memory of Bunche Middle School was our first pep rally held on the first week. At that time, I didn't even know what a pep rally was, and wouldn't really know for another two years. All I knew was that the sixth grade was ushered through the side entrance, supposedly as everyone else was, and taken into the gym, where there was this huge roaring sound. The roaring was that of 7th and 8th graders, chanting over and over "SUBS SIT DOWN! SUBS SIT DOWN!" there were crammed into the gym bleachers yelling down to where we were on the gym floor. i thought, what the hell is a "sub?" then, as a teacher grabbed my shoulder, it became apparent that I, I was a "sub", and they were telling me, and the others like me, to sit down, on the gym floor, like the beggars in the middle school society which we were - and now realized.

i bring this up because, just as i was ushered into 6th grade then, i was ushered back today. two of my fellow co-workers and myself took our classes on a field trip to the Museum of Natural History on 81st St. we took the subway. that was an experience all in itself. but not to digress, there were several points were i felt i was in 6th grade all over again. especially when we were sitting in the lunch room and all the students were daring me to kiss my co-worker. their theory is that i'm dating one of three (or five - depending on who you ask) women in the school. some thing i'm dating them simultaneously, in whcih case they (the guys) try to congratulate me. so whenever they can, with their little imaginations, they try to coax me into doing some 6th grade act of love in order to show my "steaming affections that i can no longer deny." today they begged me to give my co-worker flowers for Valentine Day. nevermind the fact that i had no flowers to give. no, they wanted me to pull them out my back pocket because, as 6th graders, they know that that's where i keep my flowers for some strange reason.

6th grade logic is disturbingly flawed.

yet, 6th grade logic is also clever. you see, with the realization that each new life cycle starts at the bottom (in school, at work, in relationships, in american idol, etc.), 6th graders tend to form cliques - a general acceptance within a group of individuals in the same situation. and from these cliques form a trust that enable those in it to never really feel the full blow of "bottom feeding" with each new life cycle. they don't have to go through anything alone. they don't have to be looked on by a crowd and experience "subs sit down." no, they subconsciously form their own crowd - an "in-crowd".

the funny thing is that i was never in a 6th grade in-crowd. i had a friend or two that i would crack perverted jokes with and talk about Power Rangers among, but no in-crowd. i had my family and church, and didn't really have the freedom the other kids had. they took the bus, i was picked up by Papa. they stayed after for after-school stuff, i was helping Love and Frank with their homework. they had relationships; i had a girlfriend that only wanted me for my lunchbag. it was a cool middle school experience, but it wasn't anything near what i'm experinceing now. you see, now, the in-crowd sixth graders tend to want to hang around me, invite me to their lunch table, cut class in my room, and come to me for woman advice (guys) or gossip (girls). and as much as i try to be objective to all of my students, it's hard to turn this kid away or tell that kid "we'll talk later" for the sake of not looking bias in the eyes of the little "reggie"'s out there. or, to put it a better way, i don't want the "non-cool" kids to think that i only cater to the "cool" kids and am therefore unapproachable. whats makes it so hard is that the cool kids are cool kids. and the not cool kids are, well, not. nevertheless, i find it interesting that i have become the teacher they, for the most part, see as "cool", where in 6th grade, i definately was not.

and though i find it interesting, i can't care. not about that. don't misunderstand me, i love them all. even the ones that i don't like that much. i'll give my life for any one of them. and can say that with confidence. i encounter 48 reasons to die every weekday and two saturdays out the month. but i can't care that they think i'm "cool". i'm not their homeboy or their pal. i'm their teacher. so no, you cannot cut class in my classroom. no, you cannot cuss around me. no, you cannnot dap me up. no, you cannot address me "whad up mr. wilborn". no, you cannot look to me for a handout. i give none. you're a cool kid, but fuck you're feelings, you're here to learn and i'm here to teach you.

and we may discuss the literary elements from a clean Jay-Z song while we're at it.

enjoy 6th grade boys and girls, next year you'll be smelling yourselves and experiencing what some call "puberty" and others call the "age of bipolar demonic custody".