Painters from Malcolm X Academy when they were in 2nd grade

Last week, we broke out of our usual programming mode at Malcolm X Academy to start a community mural with the 5th graders. I love these kids. I’ve had the good fortune of working with them for the past 4 years. They were in 2nd grade when we first started painting together, and I care about them more that I thought possible.

The mural project is meant to mark the 5th graders’ transition from elementary school to middle school. I want the mural to be a place where they can show what is important to them, what legacy they are leaving behind, and what they would like to be remembered for. There are precious few rituals we have to mark the passage into adulthood and I wanted to acknowledge them in some meaningful way.

In my mind, these students were just taller versions of the babies the were 4 years ago, when they were open and soft and easily delighted by their creative discoveries. I was not prepared for what I got: a boisterous, gender-segregated mass of conflicting feelings and immature decisions driven by impending puberty. They were cranky and argumentative with each other and way more interested in antagonizing their classmates than working together on a mural.

Luckily, I have the classroom management skills to handle the situation. Sadly, though, I miss those open, innocent painters I used to know. I’m shocked that I didn’t see these inevitable changes coming. I guess I forgot about the hormones.