new school new Me?
I remember the first day that I moved to Troy, Missouri. I was six years old and had only about one month left in the first grade. It was my fourth school of the year… None if it was my fault, nor the fault of my family, moving just proved to be a large hassle. Deals that were “set in stone” by the original owners crumbled upon our fingertips. That wouldn’t have been a big deal, had I not already switched schools and had to go back to my hometown class.
This time it was different. We moved into the house on the weekend. All of our items were unpacked, all of the legalities and formalities settled. But, something was different to me. Every other “new” school I hadn’t actually packed for. So to me the other schools were just …show more content…
Harris’s classroom, squeezing the handle of my Scooby Doo lunchbox hard enough to paint my knuckles ivory. The principal tried to make small talk as she ushered me to my classroom.
“Where are you from?” “How old are you?” “Do you have any siblings?” “What’s your favorite school subject?”
Each question added an uncomfortable weight to my chest, to the point that I couldn’t respond in coherent sentences, only mumble, nod, and worry.
We got to the classroom and Mrs. Harris came into the hallway to greet me. After a warm welcome she invited me inside, but I stood still, the weight of the conversation while walking down the hall rooting me to the spot.
At the other schools it was easy to make new friends, and if no one liked me it didn’t matter because I would be going back home soon. I could cut the lunch line or give my spot to someone who looked hungrier than I felt. I could cheat in kickball at recess or be a strict enforcer of the rules. I acted how I wanted, putting on a show for a short time is easy, but …show more content…
Why Not!” Mrs. Harris inquired, placing her hands on her knees and doing the awkward adult half squat in an attempt to look me more directly in the eyes.
“I don’t have any friends in there.” I raised my hand in a feeble point towards the door, my finger reminiscent of the Park/Mudd Pirate hook.
“Well we can fix that.” Mrs. Harris turned towards the classroom and yelled something
I assumed she told the class about my problem. My mind whirred trying to figure out why she would do something like that. I was just an innocent new kid trying to confide in my teacher and she just had to go and tell the entire world. I didn’t have much time to worry because another kid popped up beside Mrs. Harris.
“Hiya, I’m Max”
I scrutinized him more thoroughly than a carton of eggs in the supermarket. He had messy blonde hair, matted in some spots like he had recently been running outside. He was tall and lanky. Following his arm I watched his hand wave to and fro in clumsy rhythm. Focusing back on the face I saw he was wearing glasses and a ginormous smile, but he wasn’t one of those pristine nerdy kids. His smile and glasses were about as clumsy as his wave, neither resting squarely on his
I remember the first day that I moved to Troy, Missouri. I was six years old and had only about one month left in the first grade. It was my fourth school of the year… None if it was my fault, nor the fault of my family, moving just proved to be a large hassle. Deals that were “set in stone” by the original owners crumbled upon our fingertips. That wouldn’t have been a big deal, had I not already switched schools and had to go back to my hometown class.
This time it was different. We moved into the house on the weekend. All of our items were unpacked, all of the legalities and formalities settled. But, something was different to me. Every other “new” school I hadn’t actually packed for. So to me the other schools were just …show more content…
Harris’s classroom, squeezing the handle of my Scooby Doo lunchbox hard enough to paint my knuckles ivory. The principal tried to make small talk as she ushered me to my classroom.
“Where are you from?” “How old are you?” “Do you have any siblings?” “What’s your favorite school subject?”
Each question added an uncomfortable weight to my chest, to the point that I couldn’t respond in coherent sentences, only mumble, nod, and worry.
We got to the classroom and Mrs. Harris came into the hallway to greet me. After a warm welcome she invited me inside, but I stood still, the weight of the conversation while walking down the hall rooting me to the spot.
At the other schools it was easy to make new friends, and if no one liked me it didn’t matter because I would be going back home soon. I could cut the lunch line or give my spot to someone who looked hungrier than I felt. I could cheat in kickball at recess or be a strict enforcer of the rules. I acted how I wanted, putting on a show for a short time is easy, but …show more content…
Why Not!” Mrs. Harris inquired, placing her hands on her knees and doing the awkward adult half squat in an attempt to look me more directly in the eyes.
“I don’t have any friends in there.” I raised my hand in a feeble point towards the door, my finger reminiscent of the Park/Mudd Pirate hook.
“Well we can fix that.” Mrs. Harris turned towards the classroom and yelled something
I assumed she told the class about my problem. My mind whirred trying to figure out why she would do something like that. I was just an innocent new kid trying to confide in my teacher and she just had to go and tell the entire world. I didn’t have much time to worry because another kid popped up beside Mrs. Harris.
“Hiya, I’m Max”
I scrutinized him more thoroughly than a carton of eggs in the supermarket. He had messy blonde hair, matted in some spots like he had recently been running outside. He was tall and lanky. Following his arm I watched his hand wave to and fro in clumsy rhythm. Focusing back on the face I saw he was wearing glasses and a ginormous smile, but he wasn’t one of those pristine nerdy kids. His smile and glasses were about as clumsy as his wave, neither resting squarely on his