Why the First Day of School is a Nightmare

New pencils, a new backpack, and I’m still scared to death

Anne Peterson
Sep 1, 2018 · 4 min read

Everyone’s eyes are on you. Your face becomes warm and you’re almost sure it matches the red on the color chart.

The teacher takes attendance and then she asks the students to please raise their hands.

Some kids are saying “present,” and some kids are saying “here.” You try desperately to remember which word the teacher said to use.

Finally she says you’re name. You shoot your hand up and say, “Here.”

And then you exhale.

Not everyone feels like you do with your heart beating out of your chest, but this is why the first day of school is a nightmare to you.

New kids

The kids look like they know one another. Why your mom thought the move would be good in the summer before school is beyond you. All you want to do is disappear. To go to your old school where you had friends, where you had a chance.

You know no one here and it looked like you and maybe one other kid were new, and he was a boy. Yuck.

You hope this school will be okay. You hope maybe you can talk more, and get to know the other kids, but you’re too afraid.

Yes, your old school was good, but not every class. There were a couple of classes where kids were mean.

But here, you know no one. Which means you have no idea if you try to talk that you’ll be talking to someone who is nice. That’s not something that they put on their shirts or blouses.

No words

You’ve always been known as the shy kid. It’s not that you have nothing to say, it’s just that sometimes your tongue gets tied up. Afterwards you can think of a slew of things you could have said. Good things, even funny things, but you don’t come up with them on the spot. Mom does, but you didn’t pick that up from her, just her brown eyes.

You want to be more talkative, but those times you tried and others laughed, well, those times are keeping you from even trying.

You do a lot of smiling so people don’t think you’re stuck up. You’re so far from being stuck up, but kids won’t know if you can’t find the words. It’s like they are in your brain, but you cannot get them out, no matter how bad you want them to come.

Photo by Kimberly Farmer on Unsplash

Different

And even if you could talk, you feel like you have nothing important to say. You watch your little brothers and you don’t do a lot of stuff the other kids do. And even though it’s just 4th grade, so many kids have iPads, and cellphones and lots of technical stuff. You’re glad you even have a computer and that’s only because your uncle gave you one he was finished with.

You eat stuff the kids probably never heard of, greek stuff.

You sigh, wishing you were like everyone else. Yeah, mom said to just give it time and you’d get a friend, but mom forgets that one year when I didn’t have anyone to talk to.

It was like all the friends were taken up. I ate alone, I sat alone. And even when the teacher paired us up for projects, I said little.

Sharing

The teacher just told us we would introduce ourselves. I feel like my stomach is in knots, like my brother’s gym shoes. I’m trying to listen to the other kids, but I can’t hear because my heart is beating too loud.

And now it’s my turn. And I walk up to the front of the room.

I wish I could just disappear. Just for this part. Okay, for my whole life, but especially when people are looking at me.

I mumble and then swallow hard. I hurry and finish and almost run back to my seat not even sure what I shared. Something about having others in my family, something about just moving to the neighborhood.

Lunchtime

And then before I know it, it’s time for lunch. And I look for an empty place that doesn’t look too scary. But I can’t find one.

Oh, why do we even have to eat. I’d rather just wait till I got home. I think of how nice that would be and didn’t hear someone talking to me.

“You can sit here,” she said.

It looks like she’s looking at me, but I quickly glance back to make sure.

And with a slight smile I put my tray down and sit down next to her.

And she tells me who she is and all about herself.

And I take a deep breath and let it out. Maybe this won’t be so bad after all.



Life is hard, so I write words to make it softer.

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Anne Peterson

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Poet, Speaker, published author of 15 books. Visit Anne’s website www.annepeterson.com to hear about free ebooks and her latest book.