Punks.

Today while picking up Elisabeth from school, a group of junior high boys were walking in front of us. They were typical junior high boys in that they were dressed in clothes too big, their hair was too long, they talked too loudly, and they resembled a pack of puppies. I was about ready to warn them that I was soon going to overpass them (teenage children never seem to be in a hurry, have you noticed?) and to watch out for my grumpy baby in a stroller, when I noticed something. All the other adults waiting for the elementary kids were skeptically glancing at the boys as they walked by. Some of the people were even moving out of the way of the pack, as if the kids might yell or bite at them for not moving.

As I got closer to the doors that Elisabeth is dismissed from, I saw that the group of boys had met with another group of boys and were all laughing and pushing each other. I kind of smiled to myself because they reminded me of my old students and I still miss teaching those kids. I passed them the same time another parent did. She looked over her shoulder at them and then said, "That's not good."

"What's not good?"

"It's never good when a bunch of teenage boys are in a group like that. You never know what they're talking about."

I stared at this woman for a second. First off, I did know what they were talking about because I'd overheard them when I'd walked by. For goodness sakes, they were practically screaming over each other for attention of a couple of girls grouped near by. They'd been talking about their shoes. Telling each other to not step on their shoes because they'd just cleaned them. It's all my students used to talk about too. I used to reward my students with clorox wipes for good behavior so they could meticulously shine their shoes. Secondly, what were they doing that seemed to give off any impression that they were menacing?

The lady seemed to get the fact that I didn't agree and quickly added, "I don't mean to sound stereotypical or anything. But, they shouldn't hang out in groups like that."

Hm.

Most of you know that, in DeKalb, I worked at a therapeutic day school for students who, for one reason or another, were not successful at their home schools. The districts would send them to us where the class sizes were smaller, there were social workers available to the kids all day, and where the teachers and staff were trained to deal with emotions and outbursts that often occurred.

I taught junior high and high school English. I had never taught students that old before, and I was nervous. Nervous that I wouldn't be able to handle teaching the curriculum and, of course, worried that I wouldn't know how to deal with the kids.

Now, I know that the population of students I worked with mostly came from terrible backgrounds. Lots of our students didn't have good home lives, some had traumatic events that no child or adult should ever have to experience, and some just suffered from mental and emotional issues they were born with and had no control over. A typical day included me being called a "bitch" every class period, having chairs thrown at me, and having students leave the classroom resulting in either myself or my classroom assistant to have to convince the student to come back to class. It was stressful and overwhelming, but I loved working with those kids. I still miss it.

Obviously, this lady didn't know this about me. I just smiled and told her they'd been talking about keeping their shoes clean and walked away. But, that whole exchange has been bothering me. I should have said this:

Those kids are just that--kids. They are 12-14. They are waiting for smaller siblings to get out of school so they can walk them home or to the car waiting for them. Most of those "delinquents" are someone's baby. They used to be an infant, a toddler, a preschooler and in elementary school. Someone still sees them that way. Those kids that seem so menacing still get excited over a new video game, still hug their mom and dad goodnight, still cry when their feelings are hurt, still watch cartoons. Those boys are growing faster than they knew they could and are constantly hungry, causing their parents to think about taking out a second mortgage so they can keep food in the refrigerator. Some of those boys are still scared of the dark. Some of those boys still have their old stuffed animals shoved in their closets or under their beds. Most of them still enjoy putting legos together. Almost all of them would be offended to know you thought they were scary.

When I was pregnant, some of the worst behaved students in my classes became gentlemen overnight. When I couldn't see the marker I'd dropped because my massive belly was blocking it, they'd all laugh and then help me pick it up. They reminded me to eat and yelled at me for drinking Diet Coke. They told me I was getting as big as a whale, but yelled at each other to get out of my plush seat if I looked tired. Some of the kids who were actually involved in very real delinquent activities outside of school all clapped and cheered when I told them I was going to have a girl. Every single one of them demanded I bring the baby to school when I had her. And on days when Elisabeth had to come to school with me for an hour or so, those kids were not only respectful and cleaned up their language when she was there, most of them offered to color with her or play stuffed animals with her.

As the girls and I were walking home, I saw that lady again, holding hands with her little boy. Seeing that, I realized she'd get it some day. When those pack of boys were all hanging out at her house or eating her refrigerator bare or complaining about their parents to her. She'd know they weren't scary. They were just boys. Gawky, awkward, loud, obnoxious little boys.