Looking Back
R. Milian
It has been twenty five years since I attended my first school in the United States. I can remember my first day like it was yesterday. Many of the moments that I encountered on that day were unusual, but now that I think about them, I am delighted that I lived those memories.
One of those moments occurred when I walked into my classroom for the very first time. I remember clearly seeing all the students’ eyes looking in my direction. I saw their gaze landing on my body like humid air, as I stood by the door looking back at them nervously. It was astounding to see children from all over the world. The teacher introduced me to the class, while my palms felt sweaty and sticky. They could have easily attached themselves to the refrigerator like a magnet. For that reason, I was relieved that I did not have to shake hands with anybody. After my introduction, I was assigned a seat, which was not very comfortable. On my right, I saw a student from Ecuador and on my left, one from Peru. From my seat, I quickly noticed that the students did not wear uniforms. I was extremely surprised because in my country almost everyone had to wear one. Uniforms and books had been a part of my world for seven grades. They had become part of my identity, however, now, all of a sudden, I was a car without wheels stuck motionless.
Next, my attention was focused on the teacher and all the students who listened attentively to her. You could hear a pin drop; the silence in the classroom was terrifying! I had never seen a teacher command so much attention. Every student seemed to ask questions automatically and the responses were quick without any hesitation. She was a musical conductor working to perfection. After that, I started to look at everything in the classroom. I noticed an immense closet in the back of the room. All the students’ coats were hanging there except for mine. I also saw something that looked like a chalkboard, but it wasn’t really a chalkboard. It had figures and drawings made out of paper. Later, I found out it was called a bulletin board. The chalkboard looked larger than the ones in my country, and the windows were giant notebook pages. Against the wall, there was something that resembled an accordion, which made a piercing noise like a cat that had been left alone by its owners without any food or water. Heat came out of it, and it made the room feel warm. But at that moment, I did not want to feel warm because I was perspiring profusely like an iceberg lost on a tropical island searching for the relief of the North Pole. I had forgotten to take off my coat!
At lunchtime, the class was taken to the cafeteria. I had never seen anything like it! My old school did not have these many tables. Each brown square table was like pieces of chocolate in an enormous box. I never had to get on line to get food. I can’t remember exactly what I ordered, but I know someone in the class made me feel comfortable in this place. I finally had a chance to relax and talk to some of the students. I was a little bashful, but they were friendly.
At the end of the school day, I was eager to go home. I wanted to tell my parents what I had experienced. I wanted to tell them everything. All of a sudden, the shyness I had experienced during the day had disappeared and transformed itself into a little boat, which was moving away from the harbor ready to deliver all the news. On my way home, I was satisfied that I had survived my first day of school in the United States. Punto.
It has been twenty five years since I attended my first school in the United States. I can remember my first day like it was yesterday. Many of the moments that I encountered on that day were unusual, but now that I think about them, I am delighted that I lived those memories.
One of those moments occurred when I walked into my classroom for the very first time. I remember clearly seeing all the students’ eyes looking in my direction. I saw their gaze landing on my body like humid air, as I stood by the door looking back at them nervously. It was astounding to see children from all over the world. The teacher introduced me to the class, while my palms felt sweaty and sticky. They could have easily attached themselves to the refrigerator like a magnet. For that reason, I was relieved that I did not have to shake hands with anybody. After my introduction, I was assigned a seat, which was not very comfortable. On my right, I saw a student from Ecuador and on my left, one from Peru. From my seat, I quickly noticed that the students did not wear uniforms. I was extremely surprised because in my country almost everyone had to wear one. Uniforms and books had been a part of my world for seven grades. They had become part of my identity, however, now, all of a sudden, I was a car without wheels stuck motionless.
Next, my attention was focused on the teacher and all the students who listened attentively to her. You could hear a pin drop; the silence in the classroom was terrifying! I had never seen a teacher command so much attention. Every student seemed to ask questions automatically and the responses were quick without any hesitation. She was a musical conductor working to perfection. After that, I started to look at everything in the classroom. I noticed an immense closet in the back of the room. All the students’ coats were hanging there except for mine. I also saw something that looked like a chalkboard, but it wasn’t really a chalkboard. It had figures and drawings made out of paper. Later, I found out it was called a bulletin board. The chalkboard looked larger than the ones in my country, and the windows were giant notebook pages. Against the wall, there was something that resembled an accordion, which made a piercing noise like a cat that had been left alone by its owners without any food or water. Heat came out of it, and it made the room feel warm. But at that moment, I did not want to feel warm because I was perspiring profusely like an iceberg lost on a tropical island searching for the relief of the North Pole. I had forgotten to take off my coat!
At lunchtime, the class was taken to the cafeteria. I had never seen anything like it! My old school did not have these many tables. Each brown square table was like pieces of chocolate in an enormous box. I never had to get on line to get food. I can’t remember exactly what I ordered, but I know someone in the class made me feel comfortable in this place. I finally had a chance to relax and talk to some of the students. I was a little bashful, but they were friendly.
At the end of the school day, I was eager to go home. I wanted to tell my parents what I had experienced. I wanted to tell them everything. All of a sudden, the shyness I had experienced during the day had disappeared and transformed itself into a little boat, which was moving away from the harbor ready to deliver all the news. On my way home, I was satisfied that I had survived my first day of school in the United States. Punto.
posted by Rolando Milian at 4:41 PM
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