6 months ago:
Non-fiction prompt: Write about your first memory of attending school.
The little girl wandered the halls like a scared mouse stuck in a maze. She had never before been in a place so big, so white or so shiny. The floor was made up of hundreds of speckled blocks which were all clean and sparkly. The girl shuffled her Mary Janes across the surface and noticed with alarm that the soles of her shoes left a black smudge on the spotless floor. She picked up her pace and hurried further down the hall, darting around people who all seemed to have at least five feet on her. Could she possibly be the shortest first grader ever? Without meaning to, she felt tears start to well up in her eyes. Then, she glanced to the right and saw an empty classroom, beckoning to her as a safe haven from the cold, sterile hallway that brimmed with strangers. With great caution, the six-year-old made her way into the brightly lit room and surveyed her new surroundings. On the walls were brightly colored pictures of flowers and plants, musical notes, and black and white posters featuring people the child didn’t recognize. At the front of the room, behind the teacher’s desk, a blackboard was covered in a swirly kind of language that the youngster quickly identified as cursive. Her older sister wrote in cursive and was always flaunting it like she knew a secret language. The girl’s heart skipped a beat. No one had told her she’d get to learn cursive in first grade!
There was a sound behind the girl and she turned to see several people walking in the door. In nervous anticipation, the little girl hurried towards the far side of the room and sat down at a desk. She placed her trapper and lunch box on the desk and busied herself arranging the crayons in her pencil box. The noises around her faded into the background as her stomach twisted itself into knots. She thought about that morning, when her mom had insisted she and her older sister pose with their backpacks for pictures. Her mom’s voice echoed in her head.
"You’re going to have a great time. First days of schools are always the best. A new teacher, a new room, new friends…there’s absolutely nothing to be afraid of."
"But Mama, what if I get lost?"
"You won’t get lost. Your sister is going to walk you to your classroom door."
Mama’s voice faded. The little girl looked back up and glanced around the colorful room. Big kids were standing in small clumps; chatting and laughing as if they’d known each other for years. She didn’t recognize a single face. Why, oh why, had she told her sister she could find her own way? It had seemed like a good idea at the time, impressing on everyone that she was a big girl and didn’t need a chaperone. Her sister had left her in the cold, giant hallway and ten minutes later here she was, stuck in a strange room without a friend in sight. Even with all other kids nearby, the girl suddenly felt nostalgic for that desolate hallway. At least in the hall, she knew she was supposed to be there. "I’m not supposed to be here," the six-year-old thought. "I’m really not supposed to be here."
"You’re really not supposed to be here."
The precocious child’s head titled upwards and she starred into the soft blue eyes of an older woman with curly blonde hair. A name tag identified her as Ms. Pierce and though she towered over the little girl, there was nothing frightening in her gentle smile. She held out her hand and the child didn’t hesitate to place her considerably smaller paw in the woman’s grasp.
"Don’t worry, sweetheart, we’ll get you to the right classroom. Now, what’s your name?"
The little girl whispered her name. Ms. Pierce led her across the length of the classroom towards the open door. It was somehow comforting to see the white hallway, which was now empty, except for a tall brunette girl holding a clipboard.
"Josie, can you please help Michelle find her classroom?"
Josie gave the little girl a cheery smile, which was more patronizing than kind, but still reassuring to a nervous six-year-old. The brunette clipboard keeper put an arm around little Michelle and led her out into the hallway. While Michelle was glad to be out of that classroom, she couldn’t help but glance backwards. Symbolically, the large wooden door slammed shut, sealing her off from Ms. Pierce’s fourth-grade class. The little girl peered up at Josie.
"I’m not going to get to learn cursive this year, am I?"
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