So I skipped 7th grade. Looking back, although the intent by those who recommended my doing so was good, that was a mistake. I was too young when I entered high school, my brain not sufficiently developed, nor my social skills and understanding of the world.
I also lost my age cohort of friends with whom I could have faced the new experience together. That may have been the worst part of it.
I remember on Orientation Day, when we freshman were introduced to the school, met the faculty and staff, and shown the excellent facilities -- library, science labs, study halls, student lounge, gymnasium, outdoor amenities, swimming pool, cafeteria, school museum; oh, it was a great school, no doubt -- I was quite overwhelmed.
At a pause to let stragglers catch up, our guide, one of the student counselors, just to pass the time, I'm sure, happened to ask me how I found the library. Those were his exact words: "How do you find the library?" Maybe he said "did" but I heard "do." So I told him. That is, I gave him directions: walk back down the hall behind us, take the stairs to the left, turn right and it's at the very end. I was baffled why he would ask me this since we had just been there, but thought it must be some kind of check to see if I had been paying attention or something.
But the look on that man's face. The emotions that raced across it. He thought I was being a smart ass. No! No! I, a 12-year-old, just took the words at face value and answered him as accurately as I could. But I had made an enemy and I had no idea that I had, any more than I had any idea what the ripple of laughter that followed my response meant.
There were a lot of episodes like that to come. Many could have been avoided if I had just not skipped a grade and been a year more mature when I entered high school.
Oh -- what's the significance of the image I illustrate this post with? None. Other than sometimes I wish I could walk away from parts of my life and forget all about them.
