First Day Chronicles

First days had always been a struggle for me. 

When I was in kindergarten, the first day of school was scary as shit. It was the first time I am left alone with no one I know with me. I remember that I almost cried that day, but stopped myself when I saw another kid cry and it was really squeamish. 

Fourth grade. It was my first time enrolling in a public school. I think my mom laid me on a little bit too much to my teachers. The first day was particularly beleaguering. I kept feeling my adviser's eyes on me. I kind of felt like I had to be this perfect little private school-bred lady: quiet, prim, and proper. Which I am, on most levels, definitely NOT.

The first day in high school was a good blend of scary and enchanting (though mostly tipping on scary). I was so used to small buildings from my elementary school that the "towering" four-storey buildings felt suffocating, yet so captivating, as if my dreams of fairytale teenage life were just some winks away. Maybe I'll get bullied. Maybe a senior will take notice of me and be my knight in shining armor. Maybe not just one senior will take notice. Maybe a varsity player will make me his muse. Maybe I'll be this school's "it" girl. (For the record, only one of these maybe's happened: I got bullied. No senior, not even a batchmate, really took notice. Our school did not have a varsity team. I was borderline nerdy and sooo not "it" girl material. High school was in no way like the movies, to my imperceptible dismay.) Those dreams which, not even one day into high school, got shattered by me tripping over the metal drainage grates along the side of the gym what with my too big black leather shoes, and by me getting noticed all for unpleasant reasons what with my too big baggy shirt. It was quite telling of how chaotic my high school  life would somehow become.

Take the "scary and enchanting" bit of first day in high school and multiply that for about a thousand times. That was how the first day inside the university felt (again, tipping more on scary). It was not formal classes yet, just an orientation. And although I had one of my best high school buddies with me as a blockmate, I still wasn't able to shake that feeling of "littleness" (ironic, considering how tall I am). There was just something about the century-old, massive-land-area, country's top university in the heart of a bustling city that makes you feel severely insignificant despite all your earlier achievements. This feeling of insignificance was heightened even more during the first day of class. For the first time in my student life, I felt like I was the dumbest inside the classroom. Just my first university classmates' stances were enough for me to know that the honors I received prior to university are merely shams. No real bearing. No real worth.

The first day I stopped studying, I was like a ghost floating aimlessly. I had so many questions in mind which revolved into just a huge one: What the f-ck went wrong with me? 

The first day back to college, when I decided it's time to straighten the f-ck up, I was doubly awkward. It was like fourth grade all over again. Some professors knew I came from a premier university, so I felt their watchful eyes, bordering on judgment and amusement. I was already aboard a luxury ship, why descend to lowly bangka? Some classmates knew I came from a premier university, so I felt their even more watchful eyes. Why am I here? (Couple of months later, I learned that I wasn't alone: some classmates were in the same situation as I, which, honestly, made my transition to "doubly awkward" to "quite confident" smoother than I have imagined.)

The first day after college graduation was anxiety-inducing. It was the end of life as I knew it and the beginning of life as I'll know it. I am no longer merely a student. I'll be part of a workforce. I'll be an adult really acting as an adult. While employment after graduation wasn't really of question (I was hired weeks prior), the thought of meeting another set of people to come to terms with once again scared me.

Dangerously treading on hypocrisy, I guess, started on the first day of my first job. This was the first time I had attended something deeply religious for years. Deep in my heart, I knew, how I felt during this particular first day foreshadowed how my sojourn there generally went about: light-hearted doused with pretense.

The first day of the community quarantine was the start of five months — probably more? I stopped counting — of uncertainty. While it almost coincided with my most awaited end of contract, I did not picture it the way it unfolded. I had already imagined how I would say goodbye to my lovely students, how I would say sorry if I was not as loving and guiding towards them as I would have wanted to be, how I would tell them that I'd really appreciate it if they'll choose to let me stay in their hearts even a little bit more than the school year. Alas, COVID ruined that. As I don't really do well in impersonal goodbyes, I felt like I'll never be able to move on from something that I have not literally waved goodbye to.

Now, it is my first day as a public school teacher. It is extremely different with how I had imagined it to be when I passed the board exam. COVID prompted all schools to delay the start of classes, as well as to utilize a skeletal workforce. The prospect of me being the only new teacher at this school is terrifying. The fact that I am away from people I am already comfortable being with makes this first day despairing. The nearly-empty corridors make this first day even scarier than all the other first days I had so far. I am lost yet I have exactly no one and everyone to guide me. I am lonely yet I have exactly no one and everyone to be with me. 

First days have always been a struggle for me.

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