I was pretty nervous starting junior high school. I knew very little about it. For instance, I couldn't quite wrap my head around the fact that I would have six different teachers every day. I wouldn't have that one devoted teacher that would be my caretaker, nurturer, and tutor for a year-long slice of my life. That one teacher that--whether loved or hated--would be there every day for me. I wouldn't have my own desk to keep my personal belongings in, and I would instead have a locker somewhere. It was a lot to digest. It sounded very scary. Maybe for most people the transition of going from grade school to junior high is probably not that big of a deal. Sure, they're going to a different school, on a different bus, in a different place, but their friends are all there with them in the same situation. They have that familiarity to keep them from being too scared. They can compare information and share knowledge during their transition.
I was not so lucky.
Students from Auburn, Algona, and Pacific were all in the same school district, but having moved from Algona to Auburn right after I finished the 6th grade meant I was on the other side of that district. I had to attend a different junior high school than I would have otherwise. In those days there were two junior high schools in Auburn, and where you lived within the district determined which one you attended. The fact that our family moved from the southern part of the district to the northern part during the summer meant I was going to the other one, so while I may still have been in the same town (but at opposite ends) as the junior high school I would have attended had we not moved, it might as well been in a completely different state. The result was the same: I didn't know anybody. I had no friends there, no knowledge of the school, and wasn't ready for the shock of having six different teachers in as many hours.
I can't even imagine what must have been going through my head then. Puberty was screaming through my body, and with that of course came awkwardness, anxiety, and fear. I was a mess I'm sure. Everything anyone said that was directed at me was likely amplified by the hormones and lack of self-esteem and blown out of proportion in my mind. I walked through the throng of students feeling like I had a spotlight on me or a storm cloud above me much of the time. I felt overwhelmed and alien.
When any particular class ended at the bell ringing was a thing that took some getting used to. Jumping up and surfing a crowd of people in the hallways as we all tried to get to our next class on time was like salmon swimming upstream.
I don't remember many of my teachers. I do remember a couple of them, but given how many I had I should remember more. I guess they didn't have a huge impact on me. I remember Mr. Srail, my band teacher, Mrs, Williams who taught me typing, Mrs. Emerson that read classic literature to the class in English, and Mr. Taylor, who threw me out of his math class every now and then. Usually some sort of wisecrack I made tipped the scale, followed closely by a, "Williams! Out of the class!"
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