*Italics means Japanese
It was finally the big day- the first day of kindergarten. I barely knew any English, since it wasn’t my first language. I didn’t really know where we were going or what I’m about to go through, but I knew one thing- school is not a place I want to go. The first day of school had a weird schedule, so it was supposed to end right after lunch.
“Mom, I don’t want to go! I don’t know anyone there. I can’t even speak English properly!” I cried.
“You’ll be fine. I know you can make friends there, and soon enough, you’ll be fluent in English!” my mom reassured me for the 100th time.
And a few minutes later, my mom forced me into the car. The whole car ride, I stared out the window without saying a word. I shivered a few times, by the anxiousness that I was facing. What if there’s someone that chooses to bully me? What if I can’t make any friends? What if I don’t know what the teacher says? What if, what if, and what if, was all that I was thinking.
Only 2 minutes after we left the house, I saw an enormous white building in the distance. As we drove closer, in the front of the building, I saw a concrete-made blue sign with white words “Hedenkamp Elementary School” engraved on it. There were a whole bunch of cars in the driveway, which made it hard to get to the gate.
“Mom, at least can you come with me?” I pleaded.
“That, of course I’ll do. I’ll walk with you until we get to your classroom” she said.
We walked up the cement stairs, and in front of me was a maroon painted door. I saw other kids my age sprinting around me, who were laughing and playing with each other. My mom probably saw me staring at those kids.
“See? They all look nice. Go play with them!” she said with hopefulness.
I didn’t say anything back. After a moment of sounds of high pitched screaming, a tall woman who looks like she’s in her 60’s walked out of the maroon colored door. She had faded, red hair, and had glasses on which made her look like someone’s grandma.
“Hi there!” Startled by her loud voice, jumped a little. “I’m Mrs. King. What’s your name?” she asked, as she crouched down to my level of height.
“I-I’m Ch-Chelan” I stuttered.
“Oh! What a… name. I’m going to be your… for this school year!”
Then, she turned around to face my mom. “Hello! I will be Chelan’s kinder…for the year…” she said, with some words I’ve never heard before.
“Thank you,” my mom said, with a satisfied smile.
“RIIIIIIIIIIIING” The loud bell hurt my ears. Mrs. King led all the other kids, including me, into a room that was through the maroon door. As I turned around to take a last glance at my mom, I saw her waving toward me with a proud smile.
The room was big, with tables and tiny chairs for us to sit in. On the side of the classroom, there was a mini kitchen- a dream toy for a 5 year old. On the front of the classroom was a very wide whiteboard, and across was a horizontally long poster with shapes I’ve never seen before.
I sat in one of the tiny chairs near the poster with shapes, as Mrs. King handed out a piece of paper. The paper had words on it which I didn’t know 95% of it. I saw Mrs. King pointing to the poster of shapes, signaling me to draw it. So, I wrote on the piece of paper.
EDAOIEJGNDS is somewhat close to what I wrote on that blank piece of paper. As I handed it to Mrs. King, she smiled awkwardly at me, and told me “Good Job!”
When the bell once again rang, I saw my classmates running out the door. I just sat in the tiny chair I was in, and stared into the distance.
After a few minutes of staring into nothing, I felt a tap on my shoulder. There was a girl, almost 2 times my height, standing next to me. She was pale, had black hair, and she had buns on each side of her head.
“Hi! I’m Angelique! Do you…”
I just stood there, not knowing what to do, because I didn’t know what she was talking about, and then felt tears in my eyes. Before I realized, there was a hot tear running down my cheek.
Angelique started to panic, and soon after, she started to cry with me. Mrs. King came running to us, asking us why we were crying. I just sat in my chair and cried, and cried, and cried without saying anything.
As I started to calm down a little, the loud bell rang again. “Time for class!” Mrs. King yelled. My classmates walked back into the classroom, settling down on the carpet. I also walked to the carpet with everybody else. I didn’t know what Mrs. King was saying, so I just glared at the board.
I was holding in my bladder for a while since I started crying, and now I really needed to go to the restroom. I started to sweat, panicked, because I forgot how to ask to go to the bathroom. What was bathroom in English again? My mind raced with words that could help me remember the word.
I wanted to cry again. Why was this all so frustrating? I just wanted to stand up, then sprint to the restroom without any care about the others.
Wait… I technically can. Right? I mean, it’s better getting a little bit of scolding than embarrassing myself on the first day of school. My intrusive thoughts said.
I let my intrusive thoughts win, and I stood up, and then ran to the door, escaping the eyes of everyone. Now I was outside. But where is the bathroom again?
I saw a giant door with the same maroon color with a woman figure. I sprinted to the door.
After I was done with my business, as I walked out the door, I saw Mrs. King frantically searching for me.
“There you are! I was so worried about you!” she said, gasping for breath.
“Uhh… Sorry?” I asked, unsure if I was in trouble or not.
I don’t know what she said after. It was a whole jumble of words and I couldn’t keep up with her pace.
“RIIIIIIIIIIIING” the bell rang again.
“Time for lunch! Let’s go. Your classmates are waiting for you to come back.”
As we walked to the cafeteria in a line, I saw an old lady who looked familiar. I took a second to try to remember her. It’s my neighbor who always trims the bushes!
The lady was holding the hand sanitizer. “Oh, hello there! I know you- you’re Chelan!” she said, smiling. Her smile was as warm as sunshine, with wrinkles all over her face.
When I got inside the cafeteria, I saw the people in front of me taking a pouch of chocolate milk for themselves. But the problem is, I don’t like chocolate milk. I just don’t like milk in general. I saw the lunch lady handing me one, but when I tried to tell her I don’t want one, I just froze. I was out of words. What should I say? I hate milk. When reality kicked back in, I just decided to take the pouch of milk.
Today’s main course was pizza. And more descriptively, stale, cardboard-tasting pizza. It was hard as literal cardboard, and I didn’t want to eat it because I hated cheese. So, that day, I didn’t eat anything.
When my mom came to pick me up, she brought my best friend, Ribbon (A.K.A my pet dog). All of my classmates asked my mom if they could pet him, and she let them. Mrs. King had a small talk with my mom.
“Chelan…” I only heard her say my name.
In the car, my mom asked me why I was crying at school
“Some really tall girl came up to me and started talking to me in English.” I said with no care.
“Maybe she wanted to be friends with you. You should try to make new friends with people.” my mom suggested.
“I don’t even know how to say any sentences in English other than “Hi my name is Chelan”!” I said, irritated.
My mom sighed with disappointment. “I know it’s hard to communicate to others at school, but at least you should try.”
I ignored her.
The next day, Mrs. King decided to make an after-school English class for “students like me”. Of course, my mom signed up right away. I saw that some other students stayed with me.
“Hi guys! We’ll be learning about the alphab…”
What's an alfabeetle? This is going to be a looooong day. I thought and sighed.
Thanks to Mrs. King, I have grown so much in my English skills, and now, look at where I am! Mrs. King had retired when I was in 6th grade, and I haven't had the chance to truly thank her since then. She probably doesn’t remember me now, but I will remember her dedication of supporting my English learning. She is the reason I have achieved so many things in life, such as getting accepted into a private school, which had been my dream since I was a kid. Mrs. King had been the most help to me, and I have written about her in several other stories to express how thankful I am to her. She was my biggest role model in helping others achieve many things in life.
By Chelan O- 8th