I remember my first days of school. As I look back, 95% of my first days of school were either cloudy or rainy. There were only a couple of sunny first days of school and these were those first days that went well. The rest were filled with questions of uncertainty and in one particular year, downright fear.
I remember my mother walking me to school this particular year on a damp and cloudy day. In fact, it was my first day at Emerson. I was entering into fourth grade at another school having completed primary school. Ma wanted to make sure I got there okay and that was cool, but not necessary, or so I thought. I was ready to move forward and confident that I knew what was going on.
I wasn’t nervous about going into the next grade because all of my friends were going too. She asked me if I was nervous, but I wasn’t. She went over some stuff with me on the way but I don’t remember what it was. I was going into fourth grade and I knew everything already. So she leaves me at the school playground and we embrace and do all of that mushy stuff. After playing for about 15 minutes, the bell rings and it’s time to go in.
Though I had lived very close to this school years earlier, I had never been inside it before. We played on the school playground a hundred times and I remember thinking that I would be going there when I was old enough.
The front doors were heavy and large and the steps were a smooth cement/stone worn from years of use. As I approach the entrance, I’m suddenly feeling an uneasiness in the pit of my stomach. Up the stairs I go and through the open doors, past the teachers welcoming us all.
Up to the second set of stairs I go and enter into a large open center hall with classrooms and their respective coatrooms and lockers off to each side. I remember thinking that the ceiling was so high. The wood was detailed and rich looking and it was much darker inside than in my last school. I definitely felt like I had arrived at the next level of my education.
Of course, it all scared the hell out of me. I looked around and realized that I had no idea which classroom I was to go to, though the other kids seemed to know just where they were going. Was I told? Probably, but it wasn’t coming to me at this very minute. Should I ask someone, a teacher perhaps? Probably, but I don’t know. I just don’t like this at all.
My head is racing. I thought I was ready for this. I had been looking forward to going to this school. After all, the day had come when I am finally at the school I knew that years ago I would attend. Where is my enthusiasm and excitement?
I’m standing there in this very large center hall, watching the kids grab a cubby, greeting each other and their teachers. It’s a commotion for sure and I’m freaking out. Whoa. I’m faced with a decision. Do I ask where I’m supposed to go or not?
Well, right there is when I learned that a confused mind always says NO! Okay, my head says no. There’s only one logical thing to do! So out the door I calmly but quickly walk and head directly for the safe zone called home.
I’m feeling better as I get further from the school, but as I get closer to home I realize that I have to tell my mother why I have returned home. Oh boy. What do I tell her? What can I say that doesn’t make me look like the biggest baby ever? I think of all the usual stuff: I’m sick, the school is closed, we had early dismissal, it’s the wrong school. No, those aren’t going to work because my mother is definitely not stupid.
I walk in the door, she’s surprised to see me and I just say, I’m not going to school. She gets up and says very matter of fact-like, oh yes, you are, grabs her coat and out the door I am promptly escorted.
I don’t remember saying much on the way back to the school, but the humiliation of having to enter my classroom late is beginning to set in. Oh the horror of it all! Why didn’t I just ask a teacher where I should be? Better yet, why didn’t I pay attention when I was told this information beforehand?
Up the worn but sturdy stairs we walk and in through the large doors. I don’t even remember how we figured out where I was to be, but it was off to Mrs. Mead’s class I trott. Mortifed, I stand in the open doorway until she sees me. I’m welcomed, asked my name and encouraged toward a front row seat. At this point, I’m not going to sweat my seat location cos I just want to get in there and become one with the class.
I thought for sure the kids would ask questions and tease me, but no one said a word. Do you know why? Because they all had the same apprehension and fear that I had. The only difference being that they worked through their fear and confusion there, right at the school, unlike me, who chose to leave the scene and regroup, with a little help from good ole’ Ma.
This week is due for hot and sunny weather so everyone who starts this week in my location will at least have the benefit of sunshine to help ease the uncertainty. Questions? Oh, they will still have questions, but that’s part of experiencing new things.
I wonder how many kids will just turn around and leave, only to regroup and begin again?
