#8

    Mrs. Bensen, my sixth grade history teacher, once asked me if I was born middle aged.  I thought about it for a while, and without much grasp of the implications of such a question, asked her what she meant.  “It means you were born grown up.  You don’t like a lot of things kids your age likes, and you don’t talk very much like kids you’re age.  Has anybody ever asked you this before?”  I told her no, and sat thinking about what my teacher was getting at for a while.  I was humbled and quieted.  Considering the question now, I feel as though I may be able to aspire to give an appropriate answer, or get at what one might be.
    There are a lot of vague, loosely associated memories from my childhood.  I remember melancholy, yearning, and distinct feelings of displacement.  There wasn’t much stability to hold on to, as when I was about five I moved from South Boston, to live with my aunt in Florida.  It was a condominium, but it sufficed to house my mother, my aunt, and I.  I didn’t start school until an appreciable time after moving.  I don’t recall much about my early schoolings in this house, but that is irrelevant in the long run.  I lived in that condo for what may have been several years, or several months.  We eventually moved out, some time after my aunt already had, which meant a new school.
    We ended up manipulating a preparatory school system into believing that I lived with my aunt in her gated community of the time.  I believe this to be about first grade.  I only went there for a month or so, but somehow I managed to become overwrought with a crush and was close to telling my dearly beloved that what I had going was a sham.  I never did, and she was soon forgotten, as I was accepted into North Andrew Gardens Elementary school a month into the school year.
    It was a magnet school.  I got in through a lottery, being too young to be forced to take the entry exam.  It had a specialization in the liberal arts.  There were your standard generalized classes, but you also chose a major and minor, similar to college.  This did not come into play until third grade.  I don’t remember the selection process, but ultimately I ended up taking dance and keyboard.   The label of “major” and “minor” is not relevant at this point, as I currently don’t have any dance intuition, and sometimes I can bring myself only to fiddle with my guitar.
    I ended up staying at this school for my last three and a half years in Florida.  During this time, I can recall moving twice.  Much of this period of time is hazy, so the potential for missing households is quite high.  At some point, I had roommates, but that was towards the end.  They were Marjorie and Art, both of whom were NASCAR aficionados.  I did not like them.
    My social life during this time was stunted by the constant travels.  I recall sleeping over friends houses on several occasions, and little carnival time, during this whole span of my life.  At the time, I remember perceiving the benefit of living in Florida to be the beaches and the carnivals.
    I remember at one point taking a specialized aptitude test.  The school had decided that I was not special.  Nothing had come of it, but I remember my mom cradling me in her arms cooing to me that it didn’t matter, she knew I was special, and that was that.
    After the illusion of safety in Florida, being in proximity to my mom’s older sister, was gone my mom decided to move back to Massachusetts.  The homecoming was explained to me as seeking better health care.  Once again, I was forced to deal with a new school system, in Dedham.  During my education there, I lived with another branch of my family’s clan, the McIntyres.  We were not wanted.  I slept on a single bed parallel to my mother, with our feet positioned optimally beside each other’s heads.  I remember much strain in our relationship because of this, but also a deeper bondage.  I had a deep interest in books up until this point, but I soon became secluded into them.
    I did manage to make friends in the several or so months at the Dedham Avery School.  I remember fist fights, camaraderie, and the fourth grade variant of flirtation.  For years, I would look back onto this time as my golden age.
    For all of the sense of loss that living in Florida and the consequent return to Massachusetts gave to me, it also enriched my education dramatically.  It wasn’t until the seventh grade that school became engaging again.  In all aspects of education, I was far ahead.  This was not resultant of anything I did, just my luck in getting into the magnet school.
    Towards the end of that school year, my mom had found another boyfriend.  Eventually, we moved in with him in North Attleborough.  The three of us had to commute an hour every morning.  My mom did eventually find stable work at Coldwell Banker, and has been working there ever since then.
    During that summer, we moved again to Norwood, where I live now.  I never quite adapted to my new school system, and made casual friendships.  Saying that they were superficial would not be adequate, as not many fifth graders have deep spiritual bondages with their peers, but my interactions were limited.  During this time, I became obsessed with video games, secluding me even more from the world.
    During middle school, I did adapt and had several social stints.  For a while, I was cool.  Then, just as easily, I was not.  The effect was devastating, and I spent the seventh grade to myself.  The eighth grade was manageable, as I was becoming adept at seclusion and quietude.
    During my whole childhood, and up to recently when it would no longer be a practical evaluation, I was told how easy I was able to talk to by adults.  I had political opinions, and could give an adult a run for their money when it came to current events.  For grown ups, I was mostly a novelty, not something to behold but to wonder.
    The answer to the question is not that I was born middle aged, but that I was made middle aged.