So They're Tearing my Old Middle School Down

So I saw that they are tearing good old Blacksburg Middle School (which was, once upon a time, good old Blacksburg High School) down at the end of this month, and I got tossed into a facebook group where everyone is reminiscing fondly about their four years at BMS, home of the braves.

Me, personally? I'd be more than happy to see it burn to the ground, and I'd dance on the ashes if they'd let me. Of course, they can't burn it, because the building is loaded with asbestos.

Why so caustic? Because middle school was not a very fun place. Sure, Mr. Ray was an awesome band teacher, who taught us all that the tune of the National Anthem is actually an old British drinking song (To Anacreon in Heaven, I believe...look it up for yourself, if ye be curious). And I remember those first few sweet sips of rebellion when one day I told my parents that I was going to library after school, but really I walked a couple of blocks out of my way to buy the latest Green Day album. I never thought they would let me buy it...turns out that maybe I need not have gone through the trouble...

At any rate, sure, there are faint whiffs of nostalgia when I think of those times. But those times were also times were I was made fun of when I got on the bus, and where kids kicked my books down the hall. Anytime I had to walk from one classroom to the other, some asshole would make fun of me, one way or another, and I dreaded the time between classes. But then of course I am not a saint: I gave as good as I got, part of a vast food chain of winners and losers, and I'm not proud of the things I said to others and some of the stuff I did, all in the name of trying to fit in.

Middle School was this awful time when were playing with pogs and Magic cards (for Christ's sake I was still trading baseball cards) and yet strange things were happening to our bodies and hormones were crashing over us in waves. It is, yes, that time where childhood ends and the long pimply road to adulthood begins. It's a necessary time when we begin to fashion our own identities and start awakening sexually and otherwise...and I suppose in that way it's almost beautiful. And yet, it was miserable, and honestly I doubt that it was easy for anyone, even for the most popular of us.

So, old Blacksburg Middle School, and meaning no offense to those with fonder memories and almost all of the dedicated staff who worked there : Fuck off. And I pray God protect the health of those poor workers who have to gut your shattered carcass and all the cancer that lies within. One day you may see ads about people who worked on the BMS demolition, and that they should call Borowitz, Blackhead and Bull LLC on the Ouchline. My advice to those people is to call that number and get the justice they deserve.