Middle School Memories: When Innocence is Shattered

I sat down in front of the principal’s desk, my hands shaking and my heart nearly beating out of my chest. He said I wasn’t in trouble, but being in trouble was the last thing on my mind. After a short exchanging of pleasantries, the interrogation began and I knew that middle school as I knew it had ended.

After the meeting, I walked slowly back to my history class, trying to understand exactly what had led to the administration investigating my language arts teacher. The injustice of it all astounded me; the day before, he was playing around with my class, jokingly giving out extra homework assignments. Now, without warning, he was inexplicably removed from our lives on a vague accusation of misconduct. I worked sporadically for the rest of

The eighth grade formal was fast approaching, but what should have been a joyous occasion had turned sour, tainted by resentment and anger. Our other teachers tried their hardest to lighten the mood, but my friends and I spent most of the evening gathered in a small group in the corner of the dark gym, reminiscing about what used to be and wishing we could do something, anything, to make a

In the end, the combined efforts of Mr. Lankford’s students, both past and present, did nothing to bring him back. Disheartened by the administration’s lack of response to our letters and questions, we spent the remainder of the day in shocked silence.

Justice is not the result of a secret verdict made by a powerful few. Rigged interrogations and a lack of communication accomplish nothing and only create widespread unrest in the ranks of the many. Cedar Valley Middle School did not give Mr. Lankford the respect he deserved, and both he and his students suffered greatly. Perhaps I’ll never understand what happened at the end of eighth grade, but I know one thing for sure: at my school, order took precedence over