Schooled.

In the last 48 hours, I've attended high school orientation with my eldest and middle school orientation with my youngest. 
I've been reminded that middle school holds memories of boys who could dance and boys who couldn't and girls who were much too mean.
Boys were short.
Girls weren't.
And not much has changed.
High school holds too many memories to ... hold ...  neatly.  Kinda like my eldest's duct taped homework folder that is inches thick.  There was a lot of messy, but there was a lot of good.  A lot of things written in pen, not pencil.  Every emotion PERMANENT.  Things that lasted.  Thankfully, things that didn't. Things that should've been written in pencil.  Nothing I would change.
Some things smelled a little bit funny.  Some things were much too valuable.
Luckily, the boys are now taller to help them see.
Some lucky girls are, too. 
Help them see eye to eye.
Help them help each other.
Help them fit.
Remind them to write it in pencil first.
This is going to be an extraordinary year.  Without a doubt.
A valuable year.
My youngest wishes to skim past his first year in middle school and graduate straight to 7th grade where there is wood shop and football.  We could've been classmates he and I.  Many of my 6th grade brethren aspired to the same thing.   A couple of them could dance. 
I KNOW my boy can.
They will fit fine. 
We are sharpening our pencils.