I don’t ever remember having formal school dances in 7th grade.
Perhaps this is a new milestone in the world of middle school.
We had “soc-hops”. After school. On a Friday. In our school clothes.
That was it.
Well, apparently, I didn’t get the memo that things have changed since 1982. Nor did my daughter tell me that a dance was coming up.
My daughter, who by her own admission is not into clothes, makeup, boys, or drama, was completely confused as to whether she wanted to attend her first 7th grade dance. Dressing up is NOT her thing. And here, they dress! (And there are even flowers! Talk about feeling like a fish out of water!) But, she loves music. And dancing. Shoot, the girl would prefer to DJ a dance if she could.
So here we were, presented with the possibility of attending the 7th grade dance.
She couldn’t make up her mind. And I wasn’t about to interject. The decision had to be hers.
The day before the dance, she was home sick. That evening, she finally decided she would like to attend with friends.
That gave us 24 hours to get creative with the wardrobe. No dresses for this kid.
Only, that’s when we learned, “No tickets sold at the door. They were on sale at lunch all week.”
I get that policy, well, kind of. We’re talking awkward 7th graders, for which, (for some), attending a dance is a tough decision. My heart sank for my kid who had worked up the courage to attend something out of her comfort zone. For a kid who was REALLY unsure and nervous to attend, and somewhat on the fringe, I really hoped they’d relax the ticket policy for a first-time 13 year old dance.
It wasn’t Prom.
Well, thanks to a friend, who called a friend, whose daughter is on student council, who contacted the President of council, who called the Student Advisor – we secured a ticket. (And then I helped another unsure kid secure one. Gotta pay it forward, right?)
We shopped. And I watched my girl find her own style – which, interestingly enough, looked like she was out of an 80’s John Hughes movie. She chose jewelry. And asked to get her nails done. Hair was styled with the care we don’t see on weekday mornings. No makeup. Hightops donned.
She was herself. Fully herself.
And as she arrived at her friend’s house and watched all the other girls arrive in their dresses, teetering in their heels, she told them they looked great with a huge, comfortable smile on her face. Selfies were taken. Hugs all around.
Because,
It. Didn’t. Matter.
She had a great time!
“And I was one of the only girls who didn’t need to remove my shoes to dance!”
Cool.
At 13, I never would have been caught dead at a dance where I was the only girl wearing pants.
She’s more brave than I ever was.
Oh, how our kids can teach us things. Things we can use now. Even at 45.
