Sometimes I don’t know what is harder—being a middle
schooler, or being the parent of one. I’ve always felt that the
wounds your child receives cut you more deeply than those
received personally. I often say that seventh grade was the
worst year of my life. Many of my friends echo that sentiment.
But when my daughter was in seventh grade, that was a
brand new exercise in vicarious misery; and while it would be
hyperbolic to say that my child’s seventh grade year was the
worst year of my life, it was certainly wounding to both of us. Read more…