Looking back at my school years, this year was probably the one that stands out the most. I went from a private Christian school to a public school.

This stands out because transferring from a private to a public school is a pretty big culture shock. Not only is it 10 times bigger than the other school, it is a COMPLETELY new learning environment. Not to mention it is Junior High. Pretty much the WORST time EVER to be a new kid (apart from Senior Year…which I also did).

Eighth grade was a low and a high point for me. I think every adult can at least say half of that statement is true in regards to their adolescent years.

It was a confusing time. Kids will generally start to define who they will become as adults. They start noticing the opposite gender in earnest.  They start trying out for sports…they join the school choir … or band (queue the Wonder Years theme song).

8th Grade marked the first time my dad wasn’t a teacher in my school. 8th grade marked the first time every teacher didn’t know my parents personally. 8th grade marked the first time in my life I was making decisions on my own, and my parents would only know if I chose to let them know… at least at school.

Not having my dad or my teachers constantly knowing everything I did gave me freedom I had never known before. I could be whoever I wanted to be, do whatever I wanted to do… (hang out with whoever I wanted to hang out with).

I think if I had not just transferred schools, it would have turned out to be more of a problem, but as it was, I was the new kid. And when you are a new kid… you are starting pretty much with NO friends (so trying to be “popular” is not really an option).

In 7th grade, I was playing soccer, baseball, and basketball. I was playing drums in the high school pep band. I was a little league ALL STAR who led the league in Home Runs as a batter and Strike Outs as a pitcher. I won the school science fair and took 3rd at the State science fair. My dad coached a high school basketball team that went 22-2 and just took 4th in State. I was getting a few A’s but mostly B’s or C’s in class, but I was a somebody. 

Then, in 8th grade, I transferred to a new school. I didn’t know anybody there. Nobody cared about little league. Science Fairs were kids’ stuff in a land of wannabe high-schoolers. Nobody knew my dad or what his basketball team accomplished. I had ridden with my dad to school everyday. Now (for the first time in my life) I had to take the bus. I had to hope and pray that a seat was open. I was a needle in a stack of needles… and I was a nobody.

But I worked hard. As I had no real friends miraculously, my grades started getting better (I got my first 4.0). I tried out for basketball with at least a hundred different kids and I somehow made the team – It was JV mind you, but still, the competition was fierce. I tried out for baseball and worked my way up to varsity by the end of the year.

And I was starting to make friends. Although not many of them were through sports, there were a few of them.

My best friend from 8th grade was a kid I met in wood shop named Billy. He was a riot. Just a likable guy. And I think it was just circumstance that we were friends since we sat next to each other in a class where we could basically do whatever we wanted. A smart kid, but a little quirky. Kind of like me. He tried out for baseball with me…and got cut. I felt bad for him. I really did.

And girls? phaw… scared to death of em. … (that trend continued through pretty much all of high school).

By the end of 8th grade, I was starting to become a little “less” awkward in a sea of awkwardness. I wouldn’t say I was ‘fitting in’ as much as I was figuring out who I was. Things were definitely looking up.

And then we moved.

And I was a new kid…again… and a FRESHMAN to boot (that’s another story). I was there for most of High school before moving back.

I finished up my senior year at the school I would have gone to had I stayed.

I was surprised to find that people had changed since 8th grade. And I had changed. I didn’t really know my old “friends” anymore. I guess 17 years old is a far cry from 12.

I saw Billy around school, and even shared a class with him, but we were never really the same. I guess 5 years apart does that. He had new friends…and a girlfriend. High school is just a whole ‘nother ball game. I was still figuring out who I was…who I now am.

I found out Billy was tragically killed in a car accident just after we graduated later that year.

We were basically acquaintances by the time graduation rolled around. It still makes me sad looking back at the boy who befriended me back in 8th grade, who reached out to me.

…Who made my “wonder years” a little better.