Peer Judge

Every grade has a judge. Up until 6th grade, the judge is a teacher. But then it switches to a peer judge. Peer judges continue through high school. Then, you’re an adult and have to wait among the ever growing lists of people wanting to see the public judges.

It’s a judge’s responsibility to decide. To settle any disagreement, no matter how large or small. The system is supposed to encourage agreement and cooperation. I think it breeds similarity.

Because we all try so hard to get along, we’ve become so plain, so vanilla, with hardly any variety to us at all.

My mom is a public judge. She thinks vanilla is good. It means less trouble in our world, she says.

I think it’s boring. But I don’t generally tell people that.

Fortunately for me, I’m about to have the power to add some sprinkles and chocolate sauce to this vanilla world. Today is my first day as a peer judge.

Peer judges are voted on by their peers. The people who don’t know me picked me because my mom is a public judge. The kids who know me a little, just acquaintances, chose me in the hopes that I’ll side with them when judging. My friends didn’t vote for me. They know that when I’m the one deciding, I won’t allow for a boring 6th grade where everyone is the same.

Anything other than vanilla can feel scary when vanilla is all you know. I get it. But who wouldn’t want to try strawberry or mint cookie or even just chocolate chip every now and then? Alright, enough with this ice cream metaphor. It’s making me hungry.

When you become a peer judge, the only thing to distinguish you from other kids is a yellow button with a blue P that you wear on your uniform lapel. I proudly fixed my pin on this morning, checking in the mirror at least five times before I left for school, making sure I had it on straight. 

My mom gave me an extra proud smile as she handed me my lunch. Then she got in her car to head to her day of judging, and I walked to school, on my way to my first day of mine.

As public judge, you hear a lot of disagreements. For many, the judges have worked out systems among themselves to come up with consistent rulings. Again, sameness is the best in their eyes and the eyes of most citizens, so consistency is key.

But some disagreements are more complicated. For those, the judge making the ruling is setting a percent and then has to fill in the other judges. My mom set the precedent for child custody disagreements. She decided the children always go to the mother. I questioned her on this multiple times, trying to get her to crack.

What about her brother, my Uncle Zeke? I’d ask. She’d want her niece and nephew to go to crazy Aunt Nancy instead of her own brother? We all know she’d move far away with the kids and we’d never see them again and Uncle Zeke would totally spiral and be depressed and maybe worse.

But my mom stands by her ruling. Uncle Zeke knows that he wouldn’t get custody of the kids if they spilt up and so that’s extra motivation for him to be the best husband, dad and man he can be. So a break up is never an option to be considered.

I don’t like it though. Sounds like a scare tactic. And it seems like my mom has way more power than she should have.

So I’m going to try to do things differently as a peer judge. I’m not entirely sure how just yet. But I feel like there’s something not quite right with the system. I’m going to learn it from the inside and find a way to make it better. More fair for everyone. And less, well, vanilla.

Since being voted peer judge of the 6th grade, I’ve had to study the rules established by public judges of the past. Not all of them; just the ones most likely to effect kids my age.

Disagreement over the best color? We have a ranking for colors, from blue down to brown. Easy.

Disagreement over sharing a toy? The toy gets put away for 10 minutes. Easy.

Disagreement over a favorite anything? There’s no right or wrong in that one. Those kids can just go about their way with their own favorite. Though, usually, they wind up coming to agreement on a favorite. Agreement is the default of most citizens, especially kids since their parents raise them that way, hoping to avoid a life subject to the whims of a judge.

Disagreement over an activity to do? That’s a judgement call and I can choose. Which seems awesome, but is really kind of awful. I don’t want to always side with the same kids, or always the cool kids or always the nerdy kids. I plan to keep a log of my decisions so I can track my actions and my progress to keep things fair but also interesting.

I review some of the rules in my head on my walk to school. I don’t have everything memorized, so I have the rule book in my bag, with a spare copy on hand in my locker. And I know there’s one in the library and the main office, too. They try to make is easy on peer judges, especially your first year.

I remind myself my goal is to continue on as peer judge for more than one year. To work my way all the way to a public judge one day to really change things up. I have to be careful. I have to be smart. I have to watch myself at every turn.

I’ve only just crossed the threshold into the school when I’m confronted by my best friend Liza and her little brother Nate.

I’d been in a bit of a daze, totally in my head thinking about the rules, so their presence startled me. Then I noticed the grin on Liza’s face and the worried look on Nate’s.

“Hey Leigh,” Liza said, the grin still on her face.

“Hi Liza. Hi Nate. How’s it going?” I answer, trying to keep myself calm and slow my thoughts down.

“Leigh, Liza wants to run away,” the words pour out of Nate. “You can’t let her. I don’t want to go, but you can’t leave me alone with them.”

I instantly know the situation. Liza must have been biding her time, waiting until my first day as judge to give her the green light with this plan.

Their father hits their mom. And he’s terrible to them, shouting to the point where they cower in corners, afraid he’ll hit them next. Liza is trying to escape and Nate is too afraid to leave. And they want me to decide what they should do.