to every awkward seventh-grade girl: there is hope.

Normally our show travels to elementary schools, but one show of the whole touring run, we performed in front of a middle school audience.

When some of the cast said that we really did not love middle school, my director warned us that we might panic slightly when back in a middle school setting.  I laughed off the thought! But she gave us some mantras to say, just in case. "Talk yourself down: 'I have friends. I am a grown up. I am cool. I am cooler than seventh-graders. I've kissed boys. I'm in a main stage show at BYU.'" The cast just giggled. ya ya, sure. we'd be fine.

Then we stepped inside the middle school building.

Suddenly I was the gangly, acne-covered, braces-clad, big-nosed, awkward being that I was in seventh grade. 

My brain started to get fuzzy.

I was back in the hellish existence that was my adolescence.

"Oh No. Did I put on those stupid jeans again? the ones that only go to my ankle bone? Am I wearing that old pooh bear sweatshirt again?! Are my socks the right length?!"

My mother's voice rang through my thoughts,
"It doesn't matter if those silly kids think you look dorky, honey. Sneakers are so much more practical. You could start the trend! You could make tennis shoes a cool thing!"

Panic set in, my awkward middle school posture came rushing over me.
My memory flashed back to my 7th-grade audition for "Bye Bye Birdie".

I complained about how awful "Put on a Happy Face" was as an audition song for Kim McAfee.

I could hear Kara Semrey's weasel-y little voice croak, "YOU think YOU could play KIM?!"
"Why not?!" "i'm the best singer in the class!" I thought.
"Well first of all, you're waaaaay too tall!"
"And second...?"
In response, she just laughed. An awful, nasal cackle, and she and her posse turned away.
"Good one, Kare Bear" I heard as they followed her down the hall of the tiny theater.


I got cast as "BOY #3". they didn't even register that I was a GIRL.



I had to call upon my director's mantras:
"I am a grown-up. I have friends. I am cool. I'm way cooler now than Kara Semrey ever was in seventh grade. I've kissed boys. I am in a main-stage show at Brigham Young University. Calm down!"

Hunched and fidgety, I felt these Jr. High Schoolers watch me; glaring little beady eyes, staring me down.


You are cool. you have friends. you're a grown-up. "Hey guys! Are you excited for the show?!"
One girl, an obviously popular, cheerleader type, looked up and responded. I half expected her to tell me that butterfly clips were soooo for 5th graders. And I braced myself to respond, "Well, my math class is for 9th graders. so there," like seventh-grade Averill always wanted to do.

But she didn't comment on my lack-of-fashion sense. Instead she said, "Your skirt is so cool! And... you're really pretty."

huh? I giggled a little. Pretty pathetic, I know. But I melted under the approval of this jr. high girl.

"Thank you. You're really pretty too," I responded as a grown up. With the confidence of an actress who was in a college main stage show.

We did the show for 900 middle school children. They loved it.
And through those same oppressive seventh grade stares, I was now a rock star.


It's funny how things change. And boy, am I sure glad they do.

Middle School. c. 2004 

Present day. October, 2012

 P.S. The names have been changed. But if you picked on me in middle school--you know who you are. And shame on you.