Masks

I'm spending a great deal of today with Mr. Man's classroom, a multi-age upper elementary classroom of 4-6th graders. I don't usually get to see much of the whole classroom together or watch these tweens work out their pre-adolescent drama. Within the first hour I understand exactly why Mr. Man struggles with the social dynamics at school--and I palpably feel the frustration, isolation and depression that the social pressures of conformity bring.

I watched from a distance as Mr. Man had an interaction with another boy, who he used to be close friends with before the transition to upper elementary. I could tell by how he held his body that he was bothered by the interaction. In a few minutes Mr. Man asked me to push him on the tire swing. As I pushed him I watched the other (mostly older) kids act out their drama near us. I noticed that Mr. Man also watched very closely. Since I don't know all the kids, I asked him to name some of them for me, hoping I could check out the ones I've heard stories about, particularly the ones he's struggled with.

Good heavens. The cliques. The competition. The drama. The social negotiating to include or exclude certain kids. What an awful backdrop for the already difficult individual process of adolescent development.

In just minutes while I pushed him on the tire swing, I sensed his curiosity and also his isolation. He wasn't the image-conscious kid with the Justin Bieber haircut wearing brand name clothes. He wasn't the typical jock playing basketball with the crew of other boys. He seemed fascinated and repelled by the group of Mean Girls who prattled on about what was on American Idol last night and vied for the attention of a nearby boy (and his former friend). I watched him assess cadres of children and could sense him wondering who he was in all of this.

As I pushed him, he told me how his former friend is "exclusive" and will only pay attention to certain people (not him). It's clear that this both hurts and annoys him and I can't make out whether he understands why friendships might change.

As parents and as people, my wife and I have embraced and celebrated difference. The joy of individuality has been the wallpaper in the halls of his childhood since he was born. It's what he knows. Now I see so clearly why he has struggled since entering upper elementary this year. He's trying to negotiate why his peers are donning masks and emulating one another in order to obtain social standing. This pre-adolescent landscape he's entered has little room for shades of gray and he's not black or white.

As he's swinging I tell him that teenager-dom often sucks. Not always, but sometimes. I describe how I was a freak when I was growing up and how I didn't give a damn. I announce that he cannot charge me a quarter for cursing when I'm making an empowering and celebratory statement. He smiles and I see my little boy sitting on the swing. The little boy in Mr. Man doesn't appear often these days, but I cherish each moment he reveals himself.

I want to tell him that "it gets better" (which should be a slogan for all people ages 10-18, not just queer youth). But does it? Do I not wear a mask every day I go to work at corporate hell? Does it not eat at my soul as I sit in my cubicle biting my tongue for hours on end? Do I not smile and feign concern with the plight of the other mothers in his school?

Whether 10 or 38, it seems we can all use practice shedding masks.