A Painful Journey

By Anna Koopman

Little children, headache; big children, heartache.
~Italian Proverb

I was sitting on the studio floor carefully piecing together tiny photos for my son's final elementary school yearbook when Jenny arrived home from school. This was the day the eighth graders studying French had waited for throughout their middle school years. A rite of passage, if you will. The day their trip was finalized, roommates confirmed and trip agendas distributed. The kids would be traveling from Connecticut to Quebec to experience a little bit of French culture. And along the way, who knows what adventures they would encounter?

I was waiting to hear the door slam and her feet run up the two flights of stairs to my studio, breathlessly relaying the news and presenting every detail of the much anticipated trip: when they were leaving, what they would bring, what they would see. But all I heard was her quiet footsteps from the living room to her bedroom.

"Hi Jenny, how was the big day?" I shouted down the hall. "You girls must be so excited that the trip is almost here!"

After a few minutes Jenny appeared in the doorway with a sweet-sad expression on her face. "I'm rooming with a girl named Latoya."

"What?"

"Latoya."

"Who is that?"

"I don't know."

"Wait a minute. I thought you were allowed to pick your roommates. What about Alex? Maria?"

A few seconds passed.

"They picked someone else to be in their room."

For some reason I wasn't processing what she was saying. "I don't understand, pumpkin. I thought you girls have been planning this for years."

No response.

"They picked someone from their new group of friends."

"What new friends? I thought this was already decided? Did they say why?"

No response.

"Should I call their moms and see what's up?"

"No," she said. "It's okay."

"No it's not. You guys have been talking about this trip since elementary school. What's up? I know you haven't been seeing the girls as much lately, but..."

"It's okay really," Jenny interjected.

And then she said something that stopped me in my tracks.

"Maybe if I go with someone who doesn't know me she will like me for who I am."

Those words cut through me. What I knew in my heart finally reached my brain. "But honey, these girls are supposed to be your friends."

"It's okay Mama, really." And off she went to her room.

For the next few days I thought and thought over the last year. The girls who had befriended her throughout her childhood, who had slept over, who had been in her Girl Scout troop and vacationed with us, had denied Jenny their company lately. Not inviting her to parties, not returning calls, embarrassing her in public. My heart cried for her as she always made excuses for them. I couldn't get my head around it.

A truly sweet, giving girl, Jenny had always looked out for the underdog — for the girl who was sad because she had lost her dog, for the boy whose parents denied him attention, for the girl whose mom passed away. She constantly was helping others. The whole thing didn't make sense.

That weekend I was at a baseball game when I saw Maria's mom, Barb, who was also a friend of mine. I went over to her. "Barb, can I ask you something?" She looked at me with huge Bambi eyes that surprisingly were filling with tears.

"I wanted to ask if everything was okay between Maria and Jenny."

Before I could get another word in, she started to cry.

"I am so sorry, Anna. I am so embarrassed. I just didn't know what to do."

"What are you talking about, Barb?"

"The girls. The party in seventh grade."

"What party?"

"At Alex's house. "

I was totally lost. And then she explained.

A popular girl named Trish invited a mixture of old elementary school friends and new middle school girls to a party at Alex's house. Anyone invited felt honored. And even though Jenny was best friends with Maria and Alex, she was not invited. The girls held a vote and decided not to talk to Jenny. Trish had dictated that no one was to return Jenny's calls or invite her to the movies or parties. Jenny was like the plague and as such, if any girl were to be seen with her, she would catch the same disease.

Unbelievable. I would never have believed it if this mom, a friend, hadn't heard it from the mother who hosted the party.

"I am so sorry. Even though Maria hasn't been outright mean, she has stood by and has done nothing to defend Jenny lately. She just let the girls act that way. I know that is just as bad. I just didn't know what to do."

Thinking back, Maria had been nice to Jenny, but kept her distance in public. Working on projects at our house they giggled like close friends, but out in the world there was a distinct line. Evidently study alliances were permitted because school demanded it.

Even more unbelievable to me was that a grown woman, a friend no less, could stand by and do nothing. Maybe by being a friend to me and advising me of the situation, we might have learned something that would have helped the girls adapt.

"I am so embarrassed for how Maria acted, Anna."

"Please don't be embarrassed for your daughter," I replied. "Maria is a good girl. You should be embarrassed for yourself."

The years have passed. In many ways it was harder for me to get past the hurt so Jenny could move on. And move on she did. Jenny has grown up to be the most caring, understanding adult. As painful as those years were for her, she came out of them a strong, confident woman who has chosen a career in which she can help young people grow self-esteem and confidence.

 

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