I’m an 11-year-old girl and I have no friends!
Everyone else is dating and I feel like a BIG DORK!
Topics: Since You Asked, Children, School, Life News
Dear Cary,
I’m a super friendly 11-year-old girl. I really love my school, but I’m not really the person with a lot of friends. I’m mostly a BIG DORK! I have a couple of friends, mostly girls. But I do have some really awesome guy friends! But almost everyone I know is dating, too.
I think I may be too young. Is there anything I can do to increase my friends?
Sincerely,
Girl With No Friends
Dear Girl With No Friends,
As you know, I didn’t answer your letter at first. Then you wrote and asked if I had gotten it. I said, Yes, but I’m not sure I can answer it. And you wrote again and asked, Why not?
Indeed, why not? I had to think about it. Frankly, and don’t take this the wrong way, but I thought to myself, What do I know about being an 11-year-old girl?
But wait. I do know what it is like to be an 11-year-old boy who wants friends. In fact, I know what it is like to have your family move to a whole new town and new school when you are 11.
How did I manage? Not all that well at first. I lived in fear. I could not find where I was supposed to be. The new school was huge and not laid out like a regular school. For the first time in my life I had a locker. I don’t think kids have lockers anymore, but at that time a locker was cool but also a big responsibility. For the first time in my life I had to remember a combination to a lock, and I had to be in different rooms all over the school all day long. And I had to remember which books to bring for which classes, and sometimes kids would knock the books out of my hands, or I would bump into someone and drop them in the hallway and I would be on my hands and knees trying to pick up my books and papers and pencils, which would roll away, and I would get stepped on or trip people and make them mad.
I did not like that! I didn’t like having to figure out where I was supposed to be all the time. I didn’t like screwing up. Sometimes the bell would ring and everyone would rush off to class and I would be left standing there, the only one in the hallway, not knowing where to go, and then one time this tall, angry, scary principal named Mr. Fitzpatrick came walking up really fast and shouted at me, “Where are you supposed to be?” and I couldn’t even understand what he was saying. I hated that. I still hate that guy. I would have done something to him, or told him what I thought of him, but I was only 11 and he was the principal.
Cary Tennis writes Salon's advice column and leads writing workshops and retreats.
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