I Couldn't Possibly Have Been This Annoying as a Child, Could I Have?

My son's elementary school is only K through Grade 2. I love that the school is specially geared to meet the needs of this young and impressionable age group, and also that he doesn't have to sit on the bus with rambunctious, huge (to him) fifth graders.

When the kids enter school they are five, and by the time they leave most have turned eight. Three years--no big deal, right? I didn't think so, but then the other day it was brought to my attention just how much older kids are at eight than they are at five.

Last Thursday the Kindergarteners didn't have school because it was orientation for next year's batch of K-ers, but it was a normal day for first- and second-graders. It was finally decent out after a few days of rain and gloom so we headed to the elementary school playground just as school was letting out.

We had the playground to ourselves for a few minutes, but before long the after-school club (kids whose parents work) joined us.

"Where are the Kindergarteners?" one girl asked.

"They didn't have school today. Isn't it soooo much better without them here?" answered a wise-ass boy (to whom I immediately gave the stink eye).

The boys broke off to play football with one of the apathetic high school kids who only do the job because their parents force them to supervisors, while a group of second-grade girls came over to the fire-engine structure where my kids were playing.

The girls climbed to the top, leaned against the bars in a tightly packed group, and began to sing as loudly as possible:

Baby, you light up my world like nobody else,

                            The way that you flip your hair gets me overwhelmed,

But when you smile at the ground it ain't hard to tell,

You don't know, 

Oh oh,

You don't know you're beautiful,

If only you saw what I can see,

You'll understand why I want you so desperately,

Right now I'm looking at you and I can't believe,

You don't know,

Oh oh,

You don't know you're beautiful,

Oh oh,

That's what makes you beautiful

I was unfamiliar with the song, though I figured it might be a new tune by Katy Perry or Kelly Clarkson (though it didn't sound slutty enough to be Katy or angry enough to be Kelly). It was vapid and frothy and catchy...one of those new British boy bands, perhaps? So, yeah, I Googled it when I got home. It's "What Makes You Beautiful" by One Direction, for those of you who don't happen to live with a female between the ages of 8 and 18 and therefore have remained blissfully ignorant.

The adorable faces and Bieber-esque
hair of One Direction

Over and over and over and over they screamed sang those words. Never any other part of the song--just those lines. It was super annoying.

The supervisor stopped the football game. He came over and hollered, "Girls! Enough! Sing something else...anything else! PLEASE!" (Ha, not so apathetic now, are you dude?)

Did it work? Of course not. The howling-passing-for-singing continued.

The girls reminded me of myself when I was young, except in those days we sang "Da-Do-Ron-Ron" or tunes from Grease. And that wasn't until fourth or fifth grade. I didn't have any mad crushes on pop stars until I was at least ten.

But nowadays the girls start earlier. Call me crazy but eight just seems way too young to be singing love songs and giggling about boys. 

Now I know what to look forward to when my own Little Lady turns eight. Someone please help me. 

Talking to Girls About Duran Duran

One of the Christmas presents I received from my husband last December was Talking to Girls About Duran Duran by Rob Sheffield. I've admired Sheffield's music writing in Rolling Stone for years, and, as those who know me are well aware, I was a HUGE Durannie back in the day. So I was definitely looking forward to reading his latest book, which is basically a music memoir (as is his first book, Love Is a Mix Tape, which I have not read).

I'm enjoying Talking to Girls About Duran Duran and would recommend it--but mainly just to those folks who came of age in the '80s and will be able to appreciate all the era-specific references (Phoebe Cates, Soloflex Man posters, Square Pegs) and one-hit-wonder recording artists (Haircut 100, Kim Wilde, Tone Loc). If you didn't live it, I don't think you'll really get it.

Also, Sheffield's writing style suffers slightly in the longer format; he tends to repeat himself and over-explain things, as if he stretched 100 pages of material into a 274-page book. 

But that's okay, because it turns out Sheffield is even a bigger Duran Duran fan than I am, so I gotta respect that. I was a young girl when they made it big, and therefore my flame burned hotter (I doubt Rob wallpapered his bedroom with John Taylor photos). But his flickered longer: Sheffield still buys Duran Duran albums, while I stopped when the '80s ended.

One great thing Sheffield does is completely and utterly capture the way teenagers can infuse music with way too much meaning and importance. For example, this is what he says about Hall & Oates's "Maneater":

"But I love every minute of this song. The long, smoldering intro, building up tension beat by beat. The cheesy '80s sax solo to end all cheesy '80s sax solos.... And the way it warns me about those tough girls they were always singing about. The girl was deadly, man, but she could really rip my world apart? 

Why the hell didn't I meet any girls like this? Where did all these she-cats hang out?...Okay, so the beauty is there, but the beast is in her heart. Where's the downside, Hall? He wouldn't say. All he told me was, 'I wouldn't if I were you. I know what she can do.' And all Oates added was 'Watch out!' I have to admit, I was intrigued."

Clearly, Sheffield put way too much thought into each and every song he heard in the '80s. But didn't we all? Because, as Sheffield writes, these were the songs that "...warped my brain with dubious ideas, boneheaded goals, laughable hopes and timeless mysteries.... But I'm not tossing these songs into any kind of fire--I'm just shaking them to see what memories come tumbling out. And of course, a lot of those memories have to do with love, and learning about love through pop music." 

That's why these songs mean so much to us: because at the time, everything meant so much to us. We felt every aspect of life so deeply, and music was no exception. Nowadays, I can still occasionally get fired up about a song (like Adele's "Running in the Deep"), but it's not the same. I miss those days when I would rush out to the record store, babysitting money in hand, to buy an eagerly anticipated album the day it came out. Needless to say, that doesn't happen anymore.

Reading Talking to Girls About Duran Duran brought all that back to me. So thank you, Rob Sheffield, for the trip down memory lane.