Jitters

I could be wrong, but I suspect that I react to "First Day of School" with a little more anxiety than the normal person.



It started out in 1st grade. I had the stomach flu right before school started after summer and missed the first week of school (I remember it as 2 weeks, my older sister remembers it as 2 days.). Not only that, but we're running late. I had on my best and favorite dress, little folded over white lace trimmed socks, and little black patent Mary Janes. OK, so it's possible I wasn't wearing all that, that could be my memory embellishing. But, without embellishment or lie, I had this turquoise Little Mermaid plastic lunch box with matching thermos. I loved it. I was so proud and excited to show it off. The clothes I could be making up (but I don't think I am) but the lunchbox I clearly remember.

We get to school late and everyone is in their classes. The walkways were deserted. My mom is trying to make me rush and I'm running as fast as my little be-mary-jane-ed shoes can take me.

And then my lunch box breaks. The latch just unhinges and my lunch goes rolling across the cement.

My mom, being a mother, without missing a beat bends to pick it up, put it back, and carry on. But looking at my lunch there, my own shiny shoes, my hair was pulled back too tight, the empty hallways. I had a meltdown.

I stood there just weeping. My mom asked me what was wrong (probably thinking, "what THE HELL IS WRONG?!") and through my tears I ask, "What if no one likes me? What if everyone has friends already and no one likes me? What if the teacher doesn't like me? What if I'm STUPID?!?!" My life has rarely reached such high heights of pathetic.

After some consolation and cajoling, I finally make it into the classroom and continue with the rest of my first grade year like a relatively normal child. (For the record, my 1st grade teacher didn't like me.)

But every year, my first day of school has somehow followed the same pattern. High anxiety, rushing, outfits that I thought were nice but were probably just evidence of trying too hard. Breakdowns, meltdowns, bargaining with my mom. Even as old as.... sixth or eighth grade I cried every first day of school. My mom would dutifully walk me to my first class (yes, even in middle school) as much as she wanted to insist I was too old for such spoiling. And every year I've been plagued by the same doubts.

What if no one likes me? What if everyone else already has friends and I'm all alone?

What if the teacher doesn't like me? What if they hate me?

Worst of all, What if I'm stupid? What if I just can't do it? What if I'm not smart enough?

And so, as the work day is coming to an end, and as an adult this time (with my inner child crying over lunch scattered all over the floor), I face a new "First Day of School."

I'm dressed in my most Sydney of outfits, my hair is somewhat not a terrible mess. I have my things all packed and ready to go. My butterflies are ready to take flight.



(And I ask myself and wonder, "What if today could be the first day of the rest of my life? What if every day after this is different? What if my life is ready to begin?")