What?

I am good at many things.  I know this to be true.

I am not so good at many things.  I know this to be true as well.  I am very okay with this.

Of the things that I am good at, it is safe to say that I am very, VERY good with young children.  I am hysterical, encouraging, comforting, understanding, empathetic, sympathetic, witty, smart.  Dare I say brilliant.  Okay, I'm going a bit overboard, but you get the point.  I "get" little kids. If you've seen me in a Little Music School classroom, you will know what I mean.  I'm not being conceited.  I'm good at what I do and I am very proud of it.

I will tell you where I don't shine.  I'd go so far as to say that not only do I not shine, I dull and fade.  Right before your very eyes.  It's remarkable.  It is, in fact, a talent in and of itself. 

It is in a classroom of pre-teen or teen-aged children.  I am (sometimes) okay in one-on-one conversations with said double digit aged beings.  I can converse with them and be marginally successful.  I don't think a lone pre-teen necessariily wants to go away running and screaming from a conversation with me (although I can't promise that that's never happened).  By the same token, there are conversations I have had and I haven't  wanted to jump off a cliff either.   I can hold my own in that situation most of the time.  In fact, one on one with this age-bracket, I thoroughly (sometimes) enjoy myself.

But get me in a classroom of pre-teen/teens and I honestly may as well be on the moon.  Honestly.  They don't get me and I surely don't get them.  I don't understand how they dress.  I don't understand how they talk.  I don't understand how they walk.  I don't understand how they smell.  I just don't understand them.

And I don't mean this is a condescending way.  I am quite positive that they feel exactly the same way about me.  If you saw us in action, you would undoubtedly agree.  It's painful.  I say something that I think is drop dead hysterical and they look at me as if I am speaking another language. They say something to me or to each other and I look at them with a look of absolute despair.  Despair at my inability to understand.  I. Just. Don't. Understand.

I have tried for years.   I saw someone recently who I knew when he was a teenager.  He now is a grown adult, married and with three children.  (Oh, GOD, I am old.)  I knew him when I was helping direct "OSKEY", our high school's annual variety show.  When I saw him recently, I said "hi, you probably don't remember me, but..."  And he said, 'Oh I totally remember you.  I had a total crush on you when I was in high school."  I nearly burst out laughing at him.  I can't imagine anyone in high school ever finding anything about me (the adult me) to be remotely positive or enjoyable- with regard to my personality, my looks, the way I dress, the way I present myself, anything.  And I'm not saying this so that people will reply with a whole bunch of great things about me.  Really.  I'm saying it because I am honestly an alien when it comes to people in this age-bracket.  And vice versa.  So, while I was deeply flattered, I definitely questioned his judgement.

I have joked with RL that once M and H hit 13, I will drop them off at her house and will happily retrieve them when they are 21.  I will continue to see them at weekly hangs, cast parties and cookouts so I won't lose all contact with them, but I will not have to deal with the confusion of preteen/teenage-dom.  And probably, more importantly, they will not need to deal with me. 

I try. I really do.  I just don't get it.

I can't even put it in to words.  Maybe the next time I find myself in the company of such types, I will record myself.  You'll be in awe.  Complete and total awe.

I swear.