Sixth

When I taught sixth grade, it was elementary school.
Classes didn't change. I could mother them a little, 
knew who needed extra help, a little more time,
whether soft or stern voice did the trick.
Now they pool at the bottom of the totem pole
that is middle school. A substitute for one
of many teachers they will face today. Fifteen minutes in,
you can guess at which are there to learn,
which to are not.  Girls still look like children,
boys pretend not to notice. Give them three or four months
and everything will change. Even when I had them
every day, I saw it clearly. Pairing up at lunch.
Growth spurts over Christmas break. Whispers and giggles.
The academics get harder every year, I tell them, but
what I want to say is that everything does.
Life gets harder, more responsibilities, more disappointments.
But it gets better too. If they'll just hang in there,
the zits clear up. Chests fill out. Braces come off.
Now's the time to develop a love of reading,
try out for the band or the team or both or neither
but enjoy being a child while you still can.


(c) Ellen Gillette, 2012

I homeschooled 12 years, then taught in a classroom for three. Now I'm a sub, still in contact with some of my sixth graders from the 90s, some of whom have children of their own.