It's Amazing Our Generation Survived Middle School
Sure, you could make the argument kids surviving nowadays is more impressive, on account of the whole they can die of medieval disease because vaccines cause autism thing, but the fact that we made it out alive was wild. Elementary and middle school was a fucking WAR ZONE. High school gets all the mainstream love for bullies and stuff but those younger years were worse, and it wasn’t even happening between bullies and nerds, it was just how you interacted with your friends. By trying to kill them.
Walking through hallways was more dangerous than a minefield because you didn’t know when your friend was gonna jump out and Sack Tap you, the common greeting amongst boys where you surprised a classmate by punching him in the balls. You cautiously roamed with your hand in your penis area, but not so close that it was weird, fearing when the next enemy would strike. Once you got to class you had to worry about Wasps flying all over the classroom. Just wads of paper folded into bullets, manned by a thumbtack or a staple, that you used an elastic to fire at your buddy, preferably his face. Think you’re safe once you reach your seat? Absolutely not. While the teacher was teaching your deskmate was busy rubbing their desk until their pen heated to temperatures only experienced by branded cattle and jabbed it into you until your skin boiled. The lunchroom was far from safe as kids would chew Big Red and immediately stick it under the table, for they didn’t actually want the gum, they wanted to make you feel like you were on fire. They’d lick the wrapped then pin your arm down, just as you were about to enjoy your Little Debbie treat, and slam the wrapper on your bare skin, holding it until you screamed as the cinnamic aldehyde coursed through your pores.
When all that was done and you’d survived the day, you’d reach down to grab your backpack, only to realize you’d been Nuggeted and had to shamefully carry it home. On the walk to the pickup area a pal pretends to have a conversation with you while another friend crawls behind you and the fake conversation turns into a game of Tabletop and you hope you don’t crack your skull open on the fresh pavement you love to play roller hockey on.
That’s one day. We did it, and survived it, for ten years. Somehow we all did it to each other across the country without the media promoting it like it was a national crisis, as they do when one kid eats a Tide Pod. We were truly the greatest generation.
