When I was studying to be a teacher, someone asked me if I would consider teaching in the middle school grades. I shudder at the very thought. I hated living through my pre-teens, so you couldn’t pay me enough to go teach in that sea of hormones. Adopted or not, this is the time of identity crisis for children. For me, the pre-teens were not full of Korean adoption angst. It was full of many other types of angst.

Right now, my son is three and he is letting us know that he is seeking his independence to do things with a resounding chorus of “I do it. I do it.” In the pre-teens, I was seeking my independence to be my own person – a separate entity from my parents. When your concentration is centered on learning to tie your shoes or buttoning up your shirt, differences aren’t as apparent. When you are trying to form your own identity, differences are in flashing fluorescent yellow neon signs.

During this time, I did want to be like everyone else. I never wanted to physically change my appearances (other than my eyelids), but I wanted to dress like everyone else. Mostly, my goal was that I wanted to look older – wear big girl clothes and makeup. When the spiral perms were the big thing, I did it too and looked like a frizzy poodle until it grew out. I experimented with blue eye shadow (not a good memory) and practiced my swearing.

If I were to pick a time in my life that I was most vulnerable to negative feelings, this was it. I was in that gawky stage – not quite a child and not quite a teenager. A part of me wanted to roller skate on the sidewalk with my friends and the other part of me wondered if I would look older when my braces came off. Parents of Korean adoptees beware of the pre-teen years. From personal experience, this is an unstable time of life and I suspect that if I had been inclined to be angry about my adoption it would have happened then.

If you would like to comment, but not on this site, please e-mail me at adoptkoreablog@adoptionmail.com.