Dear Craig,
Welcome to 1996.
First, the bad news, and I’m not going to sugar-coat it: you are not going to hit your full height for another eight years. Despite the constant prayers and hoping against hope, you are going to remain way below average for a while. I know, this is not what you were hoping to hear. Things are also not going to get better with your peers. You’re going to have to endure “shrimp”, being tripped in the halls, and barely-disguised snickers from just about everyone.
I know things haven’t been fantastic since John moved away. This year is the year that you’ll start the sixth grade “Doctrines” class with LaDonna Curtis (Herself a piece of work, believe me.) on the second floor of First Church, and this is the year that you’ll be going on a missions trip to help the flood victims in Falmouth Kentucky. This trip will bring you to new levels of unpleasantness. None of your classmates will be interested in talking to you (Then again, you won’t be interested in talking to them, either.) and this will drive your father to increasing levels of frustration. (Oh yeah, dad’s going on the trip, too. It will no doubt be as torturous for him as it will be for you.) Even during the few times you try to interact, you’ll get nothing but derision from the likes of Tyler Camus and Jordan Gray, and poorly-hid giggles from everyone else. A word about trying to turn the TV in the hotel room away from anything but sports – it won’t work.
Things with your peers aren’t going to get any better after you’re back. This is the year that Tyler Camus will walk up to you after class one Sunday morning, pull the hood on your coat down, and spit on your face. It’ll happen so fast you won’t have time to feel rage until a few minutes later. Your parents are going to marginalize the situation – going so far as to ask “Was it a wad of spit, or just a spray?” They will promise to “talk to his mom about it”. In all actuality, this talk probably does not take place. They will (with the greatest of intentions) continue to stress a non-violent “just ignore it” approach, not realizing how desperately wrong that advice is. If there was ever a time for a violent reaction in your life, it will be then. You should use every bit of anger and frustration you have and take it out on that worm as hard as you can. You would probably lose this fight and get into massive trouble, but you shouldn’t have to endure years of being a carpet.
You will have a few escapes, though. Leslie Hale will find you one night in the line for youth group and ask if you’d like to help in the nursery upstairs. Of course, you’ll say yes – anything to not have to be around the other kids. Here you will discover that you’re good with kids and enjoy working with them. This, along with running lights in the old people’s service with the Sleeping Sound Tech on Wednesday, will be your mid-week escape from anything having to do with people your age for the next few years, until your parents leave the church.
There are a few bright spots to look forward to, though. In a few year’s time you’ll be going to a private Christian school, and though you’ll be scared spitless at first, it will turn out to be one of the greatest experiences of your life so far. You’ll be involved in an Iowa Space Grant Consortium program that is trying to publicize the Stardust mission to Wild-2, and you’ll get to attend a simulated spaceflight as a flight surgeon. You’ll also meet one of your best friends during this time – Nathan Thomas, whom you will find at karate classes. You’ll win first place at both your piano competitions, though both times you’ll be the only participant in your category.
All this to say: don’t worry too much about being weird. It’ll turn out to work pretty well for you. Right now your greatest fear is that people won’t take you seriously in technical matters because of your age and stature.
That, too, will change.
Exit, stage left.
Sparks