Not Gonna Lie, “Six Seven” and Slang Low-key gets Kids Attention

When I first heard about  6 7, my inclination was to consider writers and how they might not only use this phrase, but what’s they’re general awareness of tween speak? When do they use it? Why? How? Their work as writers documents the language of the generation for which they write, so what do they do with something like ‘6 7’? Torrey Maldonado was my obvious go to. His proximity as an educator, and as high demand speaker, as well as his genuine passion for young people compels him to be aware of all things tween. Like, ‘6  7’. Let Torrey explain.

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Not Gonna Lie, “Six Seven” and Slang Low-key gets Kids Attention

by Torrey Maldonado

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“They’re not ‘six seven’.”

None of the kids believed I said that. Four young people, different age-groups—a first-year high schooler, an eighth grader, sixth grader, and a seven-year old. They all instantly identically reacted when I told their youngest sibling enjoying my picture book Just Right and their sixth-grade sibling holding Tight, “Those books. They’re not ‘six seven’.” They and their parents shocked-then-happy faces said they all liked my response. Despite different ages, my saying “six seven” was a unifier.

The kids were unified in surprise that I, as an adult, knew “six seven”.

They were unified in how they feel about that slang.

Then came daps and fist-bumps. The high schooler: “You said ‘six’ ‘seven’.” His eighth-grade brother: “You’re cool.”

That’s when “six seven” unified more than them—we felt unified.

For more fun, I started slowly doing the “six seven” hand gesture, guessing they’d join in. They did. Not their parents—LOL. We said in unison “SIX SEVEN!” with one hand at the “six” mark, our other at a higher seven, then see-sawed our hands up and down to weigh “six seven” as average on a scale of one to ten. “Six seven” turned a moment from them at a book festival that their parents maybe did or didn’t drag them to into a moment of us laughing about “six seven” and much more.

What can I say about “six seven”? Way beyond this essay’s word-count, so I’ll share essentials. Whole schools are unified in hearing “six seven”, kids and adults. I see it daily. I teach in a building that houses an elementary, middle, and high school. Fun fact: I teach in the same building where I attended and graduated middle school. Every few minutes, wherever kids gather, I hear “six seven”. What else can I say about it? The United States of America doesn’t feel so unified, yet “six seven” is a unifier because “six seven” is every state in online communities, social media platforming, gaming forums and not going anywhere. I wonder if it’s here (in André 3000’s voice), “Forever? Forever ever?” The origin of “six” “seven” is unclear. A theory is the first song to use “six seven” is “Doot Doot (6 7)” by Skrilla, which became a viral TikTok and Instagram sensation since its December 2024 release. Did Skrilla mean “six seven” for the 67th Street in Chicago? That’s unclear too, yet it’s clear that using “six seven” can take us into common ground with young people.

Educators know because many posted online when it was their 67th school day. Staff wore shirts with “six seven” taped or pressed on for the occasion. For Halloween, you probably saw all ages in-person or online do that. Recently, two teachers in different states told me they hold up my Global Read Aloud winner, Hands, turn to its last chapter, and ask, “How many chapters are in this book?” The kids shout, “SIX SEVEN!” for 67 chapters, then fight over who gets to read my book.

Did I have a hunch “six seven” would trend? That’s another article, yet let’s discuss why I use it. The real question isn’t “Why do I use ‘six seven’?”, it’s “What does using young people’s slang do for them and me?” There are countless rewards. For starters, connection. My turn of phrase of one of the most popular phrases turns the tables. At that book festival, using “six seven” helped turn me into an adult no longer on the outside of their inner circle. That response matches reactions of fans of my books from different states and backgrounds of class, money, and more. Upper elementary through high school aged readers ask me, “How’d you write how a real kid speaks?”, “How’d you write my life?”, “How’d you know this?”

Why does that matter? It’s deeply personal for me that kids feel seen and connected. Books and schools are lifelines, and both failed me as a boy. Many still fail kids. My schools and readings disconnected me from education and school—actually, they almost killed me as a reader and writer. Like generations of Brooklyn family and neighbors, I was born and raised in a New York City book desert. We lived on the other side of the tracks, attending failing schools the state would shut down that whitewashed required reading that told us how we spoke and acted didn’t belong and didn’t deserve celebration on pages. Life magazine called Red Hook “One of the Ten Toughest U.S. Neighborhoods.” It was tough to have so many educators and books not even try to connect with us learners. In the third grade, I remember feeling school hated me so I hated school back so hard that I had to repeat the grade. It wasn’t just me who felt that way or failed. Schools and books failed to hook us since the 1970s through today, which is why the high school dropout rate as remained sky-high. I became the only person in my family to graduate college when I graduated Vassar College. How does my upbringing shape my teaching and writing? It makes me do a lot with language, including use young people’s slang and lives.

“Six seven” is gestured using one hand and another, and I admit, on the other hand, I’ve said “six seven” and had completely different reactions than the one I earlier mentioned. Some tweens and teens have said:

“’Six seven’? That’s cringe.”

“Goofy. ‘Six seven’ is wack.”

“Six seven is corny.”

Hunh? Sometimes, kids think “six seven” is cool? Yet, other times, kids think me saying it means I’m “extra”, working too hard to connect?

There’s a saying: “No risk, no reward”. As a teacher and a writer, I know there always is a reward in risking connecting with a kid. As a boy who had so few teachers and books try to connect with me then my experiencing the magic of a few that did, my life is proof of rewards when a kid gets and stays connected to school and literacy. Also there’s even a reward when my saying “six seven” is “cringe”—it still is a unifier. Young people still are unified in their shocked reactions that I know it; they’re still unified in feeling seen and heard; they’re unified in feeling a way about the slang, good or bad.

Whether it’s “six seven” or other relevant slang, kids see or hear that and feel:

“This space? Us talking, your books? I belong here.”

“Stories? They’re something to get into.”

Isn’t connecting the hope? For me, absolutely because experience shows me if kids feel unity, community, and connection with me, they feel what’s quoted by a Brooklyn youth worker on a coffee mug that I was gifted at an author-visit. Mr. Smalls (not to be confused with the rapper Biggie that many kids know) said, “Kids need to know how much we care before they care about how much we know”. I’ve learned when kids feel we care, that caring is a window where they start to see we are a “we”. In honoring their slang I become unlike those teachers and authors they describe as corny—ones who refuse to meet certain kids in the middle on those kids’ common ground. What do kids say about those adults and stories? They feel about them how Kendrick Lamar’s raps, “They not like us”.

Even as I approach thirty years of teaching, I use today’s young people’s slang so we can be an “us”. So they feel real, that I feel real to them, then the next slang happens, “Real recognizes real.” When kids feel recognized–that the worlds of their social media and media, friendships, schools, families, and neighborhoods are recognized, then educational setting and books become safe spaces. Isn’t creating safe spaces in schools and books a goal too? That safe space of being on the same page is a step to real conversations between young people and educators. And what can happen if young people feel books and adults are more than “six seven”? For starters, better than “six seven” relationships to schools and books happen. Maybe kids feel storytelling their unique voices and stories through books and other media is awesome and better than “six seven”?

And all of that? That’s not “six seven”—it’s tight, just right.

BIO:

Torrey Maldonado (TorreyMaldonado.com) is the author of many award-winning, popular middle grade novels, including Hands, What Lane?, Tight, and Secret Saturdays. Children’s literature celebrates his debut picture book, Just Right, and forthcoming picture books, Little Artist and Uncle. He is a teacher in Brooklyn, New York, where he was born and raised. His books reflect his students’ and his experiences.

Thank you Torrey, for sharing you wisdom!

Be well and do good

Filed under: Creators, Uncategorized