She Shoots, She Scores!

Okay. Deep breath. I am baring my soul and exposing the source of my middle school nickname. Middle school is most often a time when you do not feel natural in your own skin. I was a perfect example. I was already 5′11. I had no idea where my arms and legs began and ended. I was a horrendous klutz. I had a head of naturally curly hair that sat atop my head like a tumbleweed, threatening to engulf my face and anyone standing too close to me. I most certainly was not one of the popular kids.

For obvious reasons, I played basketball. A perfectly anonymous way to belong as no one comes to see middle school girls’ basketball games except parents. Well, to everyone’s surprise, including our own, our team played well and we found ourselves playing in a championship game. The word had spread, and the bleachers were full for the first time all season. I was a nervous wreck. Everyone looks to the tall kid to win the game for the team.

In the last seconds of the game, we were up 1 point. A foul was called and the other team was shooting two free throws. The first shot hit the rim and bounced out. Phew! The second shot also bounced off the rim and as I jumped up in a glorious slow motion sports playback in my mind, I snatched the ball in mid air and tossed it into the basket, of the wrong team. For a brief moment, I looked around grinning at my teammates. Their faces were grim. And then the buzzer sounded. We lost, by one point. It was the worst moment of my young life.

The next morning my mother made me go to school. This was the 80’s, there was sympathy for your child, but no coddling. Some nonsense about “making me stronger” and “building character”. What did she know? She wasn’t in middle school! Before I even got in the door, I was already hearing my new nickname ring through the school grounds…Wainwrong. A clever adaptation of my maiden name, Wainwright.

That name stuck for years, even with people who joined me later in high school and didn’t know where the nickname came from. It was even bantered around goodnaturedly a few weeks ago during an impromptu high school reunion after the funeral of a dear classmate.

But, in hindsight, I am grateful for that defining moment in my life. If life had been easy for me in middle school and high school, I would not be the person I am today. If I had not had my awkward stage, I would not have appreciated or have nurtured my own unique characteristics as an older teen and adult. We rob our children of the opportunity of personal growth and self reliance when we strive to make them more “socially acceptable”. Should middle schoolers have highlights and professional manicures? No, they should have hair they can’t quite control and messy, fingernails painted at slumber parties by friends.

That said, as I sat on the bleachers a few Saturdays ago watching my 9 year old daughter play basketball, I sat frozen as she almost shot a basket in the other team’s hoop. I realized that I did not want her to suffer as I had, even though I knew it was for her own good. Parenting 101, right? And what do ya know? My mom did know what she was talking about. Amazing.