When school has been a struggle since the beginning
What is your earliest memory of school? I’m sure that there is a prominent memory that pops into your mind when asked this question. When I first started attending school, I remember hating it. I would do everything from pretending to be sick to wrapping myself on the telephone pole while my grandma trying to pull me away until she finally gave up and ended up taking me back home. I was scared of my teacher, and also her TA. I couldn’t wait for the last bell to ring to tell me that it was time to go back home. However, that feeling of relief was only short-lived since I knew I had to come back the next day. However, the memory of me dreading school is not what pops into my head when I think about my first days.
Thinking back, school wasn’t all that bad. I got along with my classmates and have no recollection of any embarrassing moments. I remember struggling with learning the alphabet but I eventually found my way in memorizing it. Nevertheless, whenever I think about my earliest memory of school, it always ends up being the same painful one. When I think about it now, I find it hilarious and I have no problem sharing the story with my friends. To no surprise, everyone whom has heard this story ends up finding a good laugh about. However, when thinking about my five year old self, I can definitely see how painful it was at the time.
As a child, one sees their parents as being the most powerful people in existence. This is especially true when it’s your mother. I loved it when my mom walked me to school. All my classmates got to see the most amazing person on the planet. Unfortunately, every single time my mom took me to school; it always ended in the same painful manner.
I’ll admit, in my young school days, I was a bit of a crier. Whenever I felt as though I was going in the wrong direction of an assignment, a tear would roll down my check even when I would try to hold it in with everything I had. That one tear would become two and next thing you know my sleeves would be soaked. Whenever I walked in to my classroom with my mom, my dread for school would be nonexistent. I’d have all the calm in the world, and I looked forward to the day. As soon as I put my back away in the designated area, I couldn’t wait to show my mom all my friends and all the fun stuff we do. I loved every second of school when my mom was around, but that would quickly end. As much as my mom would have liked to stay and watch me learn, she had her responsibilities at work to take care of. This was something that, as a child, I did not understand. So when I would become distracted, that was my mom’s opportunity to head to work without having to see my face when she had to tell me she had to leave. When I would finally turn around to show my mom the toys I was playing with, it was then when I realized that she was no longer there. I would look desperately around the small classroom to see where my mom went, but at every angle she was nowhere to be found. As soon as the reality of my mom having left me sunk in, I couldn’t help but cry and cry some more. Every time I think about my young days at school, the image of me turning around to see my mom gone is the first thing I think about. Without a doubt, it was not a good way to start my first days off at school.
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