Austin's 11

Age 11 is a bridge that starts on the chipper, forthright side of childhood and ends on the awkward edge of adolescence. It is also one of the more charming years of middle school. I had occasion today to spend four hours with a group of my 11 year old students, as well as other people's 11 year olds at the annual Junior 'Dillo Run here in Austin. In place of one of our Saturday Schools, my school participates in the run, which groups kids by age rather than grade. When I first discovered I would have to get up at 5 a.m. on a Saturday morning and shepherd a posse of children through a mile run, I was...resigned, to say the least. I shouldn't have worried. A morning (even a very, very early morning) in the company of 11 year olds is pretty much nothing but laughs from start to finish. It's also the reason the beginning of 6th grade is a lot more pleasant for teachers than the end.

While 11 year olds are, of course, old enough to speak fluently in complete sentences and even whole paragraphs, whether they can actually converse is debatable. If a typical adult conversation is an orderly thoroughfare in a small town in Switzerland, 11 year old conversation is a automotive free-for-all in a place where all the stoplights have gone out. I will attempt to recreate it here in the form of an actual exchange I had with five of my group members shortly after the buses dropped them off. At 6:15 a.m.

Me: Hi guys.
KM: Ms. R, guess what?
Me: I couldn't possibly.
DA: Ms. R, Ms R!
GM: Ms. R!
Me: KM first, then you can go DA.
KM: This morning, I saw a baby bird in the tree by my house.
DA: Guess what?
RR: Hold on, KM is talking.
KM:No, I'm done.
DA: Did you see Ms. Stewart's coffee? She's drinking coffee. Why do teachers always drink coffee?
Me: I could use some coffee.
HB: I love coffee. My mom says I'm going to get addicted to coffee and not grow.
DA: Can we go see the other groups or do we have to stay together?
GM: Ms. R!
Me: Yes? I mean no, DA, stay together. Hold on, GM. Why are you drinking coffee, HB?
HB: Why can't we see other groups?
Me: GM, did you want to say something?
GM: I don't think I can run today. I'm too nervous because I don't like people looking at me when I run.
IS: Do I have to run, Ms. R?
Me: You'll do great. Yes, IS.
IS: But I don't want to run.
Me: You have to.
IS: OK.
HB: Ms. R! Ms. R!

And this doesn't even do it justice.

The conversational fun doesn't stop there. As you might have gathered, kids who are 11 say anything that comes into their head. Anything. Before the race, my group combined with other groups, as well as kids from all over the city to wait at the starting line. Two kids from a local elementary were right in front of us and, of course, took the opportunity to share.

Kid #1: When we get tired, we will have to depend on our livers.
Me (cause what else am I going to say?): Well, naturally.
Kid #2: They give us energy. Not many people know that. Did you know that?
Me: I didn't.
Kid #1 (somewhat pityingly): Hmmmm. The thing is, it's true.

And because he was 11 and not, say, an ironic 15, he was totally serious.

That's another refreshing thing about most 11 year olds. You don't have to spend a lot of time digging through layers of adolescent angst or artifice. What you see--and hear--is exactly what you get. They, of course, expect the same from you, so sarcasm is pretty much a waste of time. In fact, the understanding and appreciation of sarcasm is one of middle school's most significant milestones, along with mastering the semi colon and the Pythagorean Theorem. I have witnessed, through the years, the very moment when a kid first realizes that you are...wait a minute...not serious. In fact (whoa!) you mean the opposite of what you just said. And...wow...that's funny! It's a whole new world.

But until that special moment, children are 11: sincere and random, careening through conversations and life in general. I wouldn't have them any other way.