Over The Shoulder

 There are a few kids at my school who are now fifth graders whom I don't really recognize. Part of it has to do with the fact that I only saw them last year as faces in a Zoom box, interacting almost exclusively via Al Gore's Internet. At that time, the were nascent fourth graders who never really had a chance to socialize at that grade, leaving them in the ether between third and fourth grade. I have often waxed rhapsodic about how much I enjoy teaching third graders. They have many more skills than their younger counterparts, but still have a healthy respect (fear) for authority. Thus I had a crew of third graders for an extra year. 

And that was nice. 

Now they have returned, and I don't really recognize them. In person they have fallen head over heels into fifth grade behaviors that I don't miss or enjoy. The gravity accelerating them into puberty can no longer be ignored. A year without being able to put hands on one another has made this fascinating. All of that sweetness upon return to in-person instruction was a honeymoon that we could have all predicted, but here we are in October wondering where all the love has gone. 

I am completely familiar with the need for all kids to try on a persona, just to see how it feels. Like in eighth grade when I chose to walk into my social studies class with an extra button on my shirt left unbuttoned. My teacher took one look at me and left me with this bon mot: "I know. Grass doesn't grow on steel." And that was enough of that extra button being open for me. 

I don't tend to use withering sarcasm as a tool with elementary schoolers. Their egos are only a few years old, and the need for experimentation is a valid one. I just wish that I didn't have to stand around and watch as ten year olds bump and stumble toward their teenage years. The focus and attention that used to be used for reading and multiplication has been diverted into systems for socialization. Which is vital, I understand, but first time I get a sneer and a "huh?" from a previously pleasant little face marks the beginning of the end of childhood. I know that I should be glad for every moment leading up to that. I also know that there will be plenty of them who return in a few years, wondering aloud about how Mister Caven put up with them "way back when." 

Because I remember when they were young.