Last night I found myself back in the 7th grade. I flashbacked to learning about commas, political cartoons and writing a creative short story inspired by The Giver. I caught a glimpse of myself with mermaid long hair and wearing a favored bold blue and white striped shirt with khaki pants that barely grazed my ankles.
My mind weaved through vague snapshots of classmates running sprints up staircases for gym class and of friends lounging by blue lockers, sharing soft baked chocolate chip cookies sold at a mini-mart during break. This was the year the boys ranked the girls based on who had the best butt and I was informed (by someone a bit too gleefully) that people were making fun of my hair.
“It’s
just too long,” the messenger reported while nestling down into the torn, red
upholstered seats of the dollar movie theater.
I
prefer tiptoeing around middle school memories, not diving in and exploring
those murky waters, but planning a yoga class for a 7th grade gym
class forced me to plunge in. I’ve taught yoga classes for middle school groups
before and found it to be a truly rewarding experience. Those young yogis were
incredibly endearing and sweet, but also those classes were yoga electives and
the children had chosen to try it out. There were still giggles, eye rolls and complaints,
but these kids were from the more sensitive and artistic side of the middle
school hallway. A gym class would be mandatory, thus, it would include
gentlemen similar to the ones from my 7th grade who voted on which
pubescent lass had the best butt.
As
I thought about the class, I found myself getting unusually self-conscious
about teaching it. I envisioned all the possible reactions students could have
to the poses: cat and cow was immediately crossed off the list...those up and
down bum motions could be a source of god knows what jokes.
I meticulously combed through past playlists, searching for songs the students could enjoy, but I was at a lost for what is considered musically hip these days for middle schoolers. Is Purity Ring in? Would they culturally appreciate a Cat Stevens flashback?
The same heightened sensitivity accompanied me when writing the meditation. My usual meditation lingo suddenly sounded too enlightened hippie like. Inhale to bring light into the body, exhale to shine brighter…I was even shy about saying “body.”
Last
minute the class was cancelled - a remembered promise for a three on three
basketball tournament needed to take place.
Last
night I revisited those middle school memories in the semi-conscious spaces
between sleeping and waking. Finally, when fully awake, my heart was burdened
with past hurts that all freshly stung.
My painfully insecure 7th grade self didn’t end up existing in some dusty yearbook like memories - she was still present, eager for acceptance and self-love. Though I tried, I couldn’t grant her the approval she sought because my post-grad self is still seeking it.
My painfully insecure 7th grade self didn’t end up existing in some dusty yearbook like memories - she was still present, eager for acceptance and self-love. Though I tried, I couldn’t grant her the approval she sought because my post-grad self is still seeking it.
Though I wish I could
be The Confident and Carefree 23, I’m simply not, at least not all the time,
and that’s perfectly all right. The gym class serves as a reminder that I have
some forgiving, blessing and loving I need to tend to so I can heal all parts
of myself.
I’m hoping the next time I teach a middle school yoga class, I will
stay true to my usual yoga teacher style, and if I catch a sight of girl with
Rapunzel hair, I’ll smile and wink.
