Eighth Grade Bites Quotes

The classroom looked like cupid had thrown up all over it. ~ Z Brewer

I played football in eighth grade, and even though I had a passion for it, it turned out I'm no good at playing it. ~ Ross Mathews

Why can't we repeat 8th grace five times and call that a high school education? ~ Audrey Regan

Up until I think eighth grade - when I found out in front of a roomful of people - I believed that England and Great Britain were two entirely different places. Like I didn't know that England was a part of Great Britain. I thought they were completely separate in every way. ~ Paul F. Tompkins

You know my brother Robbie?" Dakota asks in a hushed voice.

I snicker loudly. "No, kid, I don't know Robbie. I just coach his team."

A sheepish flush blooms on her cheeks. "Oops. Right. That was a stupid question."

"Ya think?"

Giggling, she says, "Anyway, you can't tell anyone, but Robbie has a girlfriend!"

I raise my eyebrows. "Yeah? And how do you know that? Are you spying on your big brother?"

"No, he told me, dum-dum. Robbie tells me everything. Her name is Lacey and she's in eighth grade." Dakota shakes her head in amazement. "That's a whole grade higher than him."

I stifle the laughter threatening to spill over. "Landed himself an older woman, huh? Good for Robbie."

Dakota lowers her voice to a whisper and proceeds to tell me every single detail about her brother's eighth-grade girlfriend. I listen obligingly, all the while trying to pinpoint exactly when it was that hanging out with middle-schoolers became the highlight of my days. ~ Elle Kennedy

As a result of this "racism smog," many of our children have internalized all of the negative stereotypes inherent in our society's views of black people. A student teacher at Southern University told me that she didn't know what to say when an African American eighth-grade boy came up to her and said, "They made us the slaves because we were dumb, right, Ms. Summers?" Working with a middle schooler on her math, a tutor was admonished, "Why you trying to teach me to multiply, Ms. L.? Black people don't multiply; black people just add and subtract. White people multiply. ~ Lisa Delpit

We broke up in eighth grade when Tara-Mae Forrester offered to let me touch her boobs. And I did. ~ Emma Chase

Roo: What's your definition of popularity?

Hutch: I used to think people were popular because they were good-looking, or nice, or funny, or good at sports.

Roo: Aren't they?

Hutch: I'd think, if I could just be those things, I'd – you know – have more friends than I do. But in seventh grade, when Jackson and those guys stopped hanging out with me, I tried as hard as I could to get them to like me again. But then . . . (shaking his head as if to clear it) I don't really wanna talk about it.

Roo: What happened?

Hutch: They just did some ugly stuff to me is all. And really, it was for the best.

Roo: Why?

Hutch: Because I was cured. I realized the popular people weren't nice or funny or great-looking. They just had power, and they actually got the power by teasing people or humiliating them – so people bonded to them out of fear.

Roo: Oh.

Hutch: I didn't want to be a person who could act like that. I didn't want to ever speak to any person who could act like that.

Roo: Oh

Hutch: So then I wasn't trying to be popular anymore.

Roo: Weren't you lonely?

Hutch: I didn't say it was fun. (He bites his thumbnail, bonsai dirt and all.) I said it was for the best. ~ E. Lockhart

I mean, growing up in New Orleans when you're in seventh and eighth grade and you're into music and you're a dorky dude, you know, you listen to the entire Rush catalog and the entire Zeppelin catalog and you go through these, like, phases of classic rock. It definitely speaks to our dorkiness and the similar hometown that we grew up in, the similar sort of schooling we went through and friends we had. ~ Steve Zissis

I've loved vampires for a very long time. In eighth grade, I guess, my research paper was on vampires. ~ Holly Black

The lying started in the eighth grade. Possibly it had begun earlier, and I simply hadn't noticed. ~ Anita Shreve

Around eighth grade Margot started getting really sensitive about her weight, even though she wasn't remotely fat - just a little round-faced. So Margot did what any normal fourteen-year-old girl would do. She started puking on purpose, every day after fifth period. Of course now, she does more than puke. But we don't talk about that. Because real friends don't judge each other for what they do to survive in hell. ~ Isobel Irons

What grade does she teach?" "Eighth. Where kids make the jump from nice, innocent kids to something a lot more complicated and emotional drama runs deep and hormones are out of control. Some days she comes home looking like she got hit by a bus." "In my book, all teachers are underpaid," said Decker. ~ David Baldacci

I had been writing fiction since I was in eighth grade, because I loved it. ~ Thomas Perry

It was an intensely lonely moment, like all of eighth grade condensed into one claustrophobic second. ~ Lisa Rowe Fraustino

Since her retirement from teaching Miss Beryl's health had in many respects greatly improved, despite her advancing years. An eighth-grade classroom was an excellent place to snag whatever was in the air in the way of illness. Also depression, which, Miss Beryl believed, in conjunction with guilt, opened the door to illness. Miss Beryl didn't know any teachers who weren't habitually guilty and depressed
guilty they hadn't accomplished more with their students, depressed that very little more was possible. ~ Richard Russo

So who are you writing to?"
I hesitate. "Do you remember John Ambrose McClaren?"
He rolls his eyes. "Of course I remember John Ambrose McClaren. I had a crush on him in seventh grade."
"I had a crush on him in eighth!"
"Of course you did. We all did. In middle school you either liked John or you liked Peter. Those were the two main choices. Like Betty and Veronica. Obviously John is Betty and Peter's Veronica." He pauses. "Remember how John used to have that really endearing stutter?"
"Yes! I mourned it a little when it went away. It was so sweet. So boyish. And do you remember how his hair was the color of pale butter? Like, the way I bet freshly churned butter looks."
"I thought it was more like moonlit corn silk, but yeah. So how did he turn out?"
"I don't know…It's strange because there's the him I remember from middle school, and that's just my memory of him, but then there's the him now."
"Did you guys ever go out back then?"
"Oh no! Never."
"So that's probably why you're curious about him now."
"I didn't say I was curious."
Lucas gives me a look. "You basically did. I don't blame you. I'd be curious too."
"It's just fun to think about. ~ Jenny Han

My girlfriend in eighth grade had been asking her friends when I was going to kiss her. At a dance, my buddy said, 'You better do it now!' I went in for it. I felt like the coolest person on the face of the earth. A week or two later, she broke up with me. ~ Michael Rady

My dad had an eighth grade education, and everything that he did in his life was just stuff that he went out and did - figured out what he needed to know and read. Very successful, a union contractor. ~ Mitch Pileggi

Before the eighth grade, I probably went to seven or eight different schools. ~ Jeremy London

I really love folklore. I had read a lot of faerie folklore that informed the books I wrote. I also really love vampire folklore; my eighth grade research paper was on [it]. [With this project,] it was really helpful to think about the way you can use language. When you're writing about faeries, you can't call anyone "fey"; there are certain words that become forbidden because they're actualized in what faeries do. When you write about vampires, you could think the same way about things like the word "red" or "hunger"
it's interesting to think of the ways that the words have double meanings, or different meanings that shifted. ~ Holly Black

Dear John Ambrose McClaren,

I know the exact day it all started. Fall, eighth grade. We got caught in the rain when we had to put all the softball bats away after gym. We started to run back to the building, and I couldn't run as fast as you, so you stopped and grabbed my bag too. It was even better than if you'd grabbed my hand. I still remember the way you looked--your T-shirt was stuck to your back, your hair wet like you just came out of the shower. When it started to pour, you whooped and hollered like a little kid. There was this moment--you looked back at me, and your grin was as wide as your face. You said, "Come on, LJ!"

It was right then. That's when I knew, all the way down to my soaking-wet Keds. I love you, John Ambrose McClaren. I really love you. I might have loved you for all of high school. I think you might have loved me back. If only you weren't moving away, John! It's so unfair when people move away. It's like their parents just decide something and no one else gets a say in it. Not that I even deserve a say--I'm not your girlfriend or anything. But you at least deserve a say.

I was really hoping that one day I would get to call you Johnny. Your mom came to get you after school once, and a bunch of us were hanging out on the front steps. And you didn't see her car, so she honked and called out, "Johnny!" I loved the sound of that. Johnny. One day, I bet your girlfriend will call you Johnny. She's really lucky. Maybe you alr ~ Jenny Han

Some years ago I read a book that brought Einstein's theory of relativity down to an eighth grade level. This convinced me that any subject can be made easy. In other words, always beware of anyone who tells you a topic is above you or better left to experts. This person may, for some reason, be trying to shut you out. You CAN understand almost anything. ~ Richard J. Maybury

I felt a mix of wanting to kill him and wanting to kiss him at the same time. When I thought of what true love must be like, I figured it must be like this, and not the stupid eighth grade infatuation most girls my age felt. True love includes an equal part of good and bad, but true sticks around and doesn't run off to Vegas with a podiatrist. ~ A.S. King

I've always loved doing research. I remember doing a research project on the Babylonian numeral system in the eighth grade and thinking, 'This is pretty awesome - is this really a job you can have?' This led me toward a career as an academic, although it took me until college to realise that economics was the right field. ~ Emily Oster

Did I ever tell you I went to school in America?"
"What? No."
"It's true,for a year. Eighth grade. It was terrible."
"Eighth grade is terrible for everyone," I say.
"Well,it was worse for me. My parents had just seperated,and my mum moved back to California.I hadn't been since I was an infant,but I went with her,and I was put in this horrid public school-"
"Oh,no. Public school."
He nudges me with his shoulder. "The other kids were ruthless. They made fun of everything about me-my height,my accent, the way I dressed.I vowed I'd never go back."
"But American girls love English accents." I blurt this without thinking, and then pray he doesn't notice my blush.
St. Clair picks up a pebble and tosses it into the river. "Not in middle school, they don't.Especially when it's attached to a bloke who comes up to their kneecaps."
I laugh.
"So when the year was over,my parents found a new school for me. I wanted to go back to London,where my mates were, but my father insisted on Paris so he could keep an eye on me. And that's how I would up at the School of America. ~ Stephanie Perkins

For the last week or so it's like getting jabbed with a little needle every time I hear that word. Gram is trying to pretend how excited she is I'm finally in the eighth grade, like this is a really big deal. Which is a joke, because the only reason I got passed from seventh grade is because they figured this way the big butthead can be - quote - someone else's problem, thank God, we've had quite enough of Maxwell Kane - unquote. ~ Rodman Philbrick

Who's the fifth?"
I'm surprised he's been keeping count. "John Ambrose McClaren."
Peter's eyes widen. "McClaren? When did you like him?"
"Eighth grade."
"I thought you liked me in eighth grade!"
"There may have been a little bit of overlap," I admit. Stirring my straw, I say, "There was this one time, in gym…he and I had to pick up all the soccer balls, and it started to rain…" I sigh. "It was probably the most romantic thing that ever happened to me."
"What is it with girls and rain?" Peter wonders.
"I don't know…I guess maybe because everything feels more dramatic in the rain," I say with a shrug.
"Did anything actually happen with you two, or were you just standing out in the rain picking up soccer balls?"
"You wouldn't understand." Someone like Peter could never understand. ~ Jenny Han

When I was in the eighth grade, I wrote this huge long paper about how I had no idea what I was gonna do with my life, but that I wanted to make a difference and touch even if it was like one person's life ... inspire them. ~ Shantel VanSanten

As I got older, I'd say probably when I got to, like, seventh or eighth grade, I was living in Atlanta, Georgia at the time, and I went for an open call for an agent, a local agent out there, a woman named Joy Purvis, and she ended up picking me up. ~ David Lambert

I glance over my shoulder, at the car following close behind us. It's impossible to see the driver. To tell if it's Cassian. After a moment, it pulls around and passes us. I sigh.
"Why do I get the feeling that I'm abducting you? Should I be on alert for sirens in the rearview mirror?"
"I left willingly." I force a grin and tease, "I don't think you'll get arrested."
"Great. You don't 'think.' That's encouraging." He gives me a wincing smile. "But maybe not. I am eighteen, after all - "
"You're eighteen? But you're a sophomore."
An uneasy look passes over his face. "I missed a lot of school a few years back. Half of seventh grade and all of eighth, in fact. I was sick."
"Sick?" I echo. That reminder of his mortality crashes down on me. It'll always be there, smoke rising between us. Xander had mentioned Will being ill, but I never imagined it as anything serious.
"How? I mean, what . . ."
He shrugs like it's nothing, but he won't glance at me. He stares at the road. "Leukemia. But I'm better now. Completely cured."
"Were you very . . . bad off?"
"For about a year. The prognosis wasn't - " He stops suddenly, like he's said too much, and I get that sense again. The feeling that he's not telling me something. That he's holding back. A muscle in his jaw ripples with tension. "Look, don't worry about it. Aren't I a perfect male specimen now?" He sends me a wink. "Don't I look healthy?"
I really didn't like when I found out tha ~ Sophie Jordan

My mother's dad dropped out of the eighth grade to work. He had to. By the time he was 30, he was a master electrician, plumber, carpenter, mason, mechanic. That guy was, to me, a magician. Anything that was broken, he could fix. Anybody anywhere in our community knew that if there was a problem, Carl was there to fix it. ~ Mike Rowe

This girl," I tell Rachel. "That's not what I look like. That's not who I am." I have a feeling Rachel will get this because she pretended to be straight all through high school, even though she figured out she was a lesbian when she was in eighth grade.

I say it again, "That's not me."

Her eyes light up. "Great. Let's see if we can find her. ~ Jennifer Niven

Eighth grade is like Lord Of The Flies but with eyeliner. ~ Holly Brown

People say that rape is not sex, that it's violence," Lucy says, bitterly. "But it's also sex. You can't get around that," she says. "he didn't run me over with a car. He had sex with me. You're not supposed to do that. You're not supposed to have sex with an eighth-grader. You're not supposed to have sex when you're in eighth grade. It was very intimate. You can't get around it. This part of the body," she says, gesturing from her heart to her lower abdomen, though I understand she means to indicate her vagina. "If you're sitting around with a group of women, talking about various traumas, someone will say, I got beaten by my mother. But if you say, I got raped, it's a different thing."
I wonder if that is true. Is rape really the worst sort of violation? I'm not sure. I often wonder why it matters whether we're penetrated or not. There is the pain, but the pain doesn't last. The shame does. (216) ~ Jessica Stern