These next few days are going to be entirely life-changing for me. This time next week I'll be sitting in a classroom like everybody else I know, likely chewing on the end of my pencil and daydreaming instead of paying attention. (Because that usually happens to me; unfortunately, I have difficulty paying attention to people rather than things.)
I'll be honest: I'm terrified.
What if I can't handle public school? What if the work is too hard? What if I get caught writing stories and poems instead of taking notes? (we all know that's going to happen to me at some point) What if I get lost? What if they kick me out of the jazz band because I'm not good enough and I'm just a freshman anyways? But this is what you wanted, Rebecca. Well, you're getting it. It's going to take an act of Divine Providence to get you through this.
Rapunzel understands me-- once again I see my life portrayed in a Disney movie! On the left is the half of me that is ecstatic to go to school. On the right, you can see what I'm feeling as I write this post.
My dad and I went to the school Wednesday morning to register me. The halls were poorly lit, and there was no one around. If there were signs on the walls, it was too dim to see them. We wandered around for a bit, not sure where to go. This did not help my dread of getting lost during school-- if my dad can't find one room in here, how am I supposed to find all of my classes?
Eventually we found a man who directed us to the counselors' office. "If you ever get lost," he said. "Just follow the gray line up on the wall. See that? It runs through the whole school, starting at the main office and ending at the counselors' office." I thought that very nifty.
A woman with cropped blonde hair asked us questions, and typed away. My address, my phone number, my Social Security number, my Student Identification number, my emergency contact numbers. I live in a world of numbers, I thought. This is how government and school systems work-- grouping everyone into meaningless numbers. Reducing us to mere digits on a piece of paper.
She gave us papers that asked for the same information we'd just given her, and sent us back to a room to fill them out. Another lady, with dangly beaded earrings and gingery brown hair, emerged and talked to my dad. I needed to choose eight classes. I qualified for Pre-Honors classes. I wanted to do band, but there were four bands to choose from and I didn't know which one to pick. And the lady was so kind as to walk us down to the band room and consult the director. The director told us-- from what I could hear over the blare of the trumpets-- that there was marching band, jazz band, instrumental ensemble, and beginners' band. Then the sousaphones joined in with the trumpets, completely muting her voice, so that I didn't hear anything she said afterward.
Dangly-Earrings-Lady gave me a brief tour on the return to the counselors' office. She gave me a map, too, which I consulted as we walked. Back in the room, I was to circle the classes I wanted to take. I wanted to burst out in indignation, "You want me to choose my own fate?!" But did not. When it was done, I handed her my completed form. She disappeared to punch some more numbers into a computer. When she returned, she appeared quite pleased with herself.
"I'm not choosing favorites, or anything," she said. "But I pressed a button and your schedule just printed right out. I've never had one do that before!" I smiled to myself. There was some of that Divine Providence I needed. Surely God was with me. "So here. You can go ahead and have your schedule early. Nobody else will get theirs until Orientation." So I have an advantage.
I looked at the schedule-- since I was the first with my classes planned out, there was a place for me in the jazz band! I copied the information from the schedule onto the map, labeling the classrooms I would be in and the times I needed to be there. It's going to be my compass. I can't get lost as long as I have that! There's one fear gone.
And yet I'm still freaking out. Maybe I would feel better if I took my trusty frying pan to school with me?
I'll be honest: I'm terrified.
What if I can't handle public school? What if the work is too hard? What if I get caught writing stories and poems instead of taking notes? (we all know that's going to happen to me at some point) What if I get lost? What if they kick me out of the jazz band because I'm not good enough and I'm just a freshman anyways? But this is what you wanted, Rebecca. Well, you're getting it. It's going to take an act of Divine Providence to get you through this.
My dad and I went to the school Wednesday morning to register me. The halls were poorly lit, and there was no one around. If there were signs on the walls, it was too dim to see them. We wandered around for a bit, not sure where to go. This did not help my dread of getting lost during school-- if my dad can't find one room in here, how am I supposed to find all of my classes?
Eventually we found a man who directed us to the counselors' office. "If you ever get lost," he said. "Just follow the gray line up on the wall. See that? It runs through the whole school, starting at the main office and ending at the counselors' office." I thought that very nifty.
A woman with cropped blonde hair asked us questions, and typed away. My address, my phone number, my Social Security number, my Student Identification number, my emergency contact numbers. I live in a world of numbers, I thought. This is how government and school systems work-- grouping everyone into meaningless numbers. Reducing us to mere digits on a piece of paper.
She gave us papers that asked for the same information we'd just given her, and sent us back to a room to fill them out. Another lady, with dangly beaded earrings and gingery brown hair, emerged and talked to my dad. I needed to choose eight classes. I qualified for Pre-Honors classes. I wanted to do band, but there were four bands to choose from and I didn't know which one to pick. And the lady was so kind as to walk us down to the band room and consult the director. The director told us-- from what I could hear over the blare of the trumpets-- that there was marching band, jazz band, instrumental ensemble, and beginners' band. Then the sousaphones joined in with the trumpets, completely muting her voice, so that I didn't hear anything she said afterward.
Dangly-Earrings-Lady gave me a brief tour on the return to the counselors' office. She gave me a map, too, which I consulted as we walked. Back in the room, I was to circle the classes I wanted to take. I wanted to burst out in indignation, "You want me to choose my own fate?!" But did not. When it was done, I handed her my completed form. She disappeared to punch some more numbers into a computer. When she returned, she appeared quite pleased with herself.
"I'm not choosing favorites, or anything," she said. "But I pressed a button and your schedule just printed right out. I've never had one do that before!" I smiled to myself. There was some of that Divine Providence I needed. Surely God was with me. "So here. You can go ahead and have your schedule early. Nobody else will get theirs until Orientation." So I have an advantage.
I looked at the schedule-- since I was the first with my classes planned out, there was a place for me in the jazz band! I copied the information from the schedule onto the map, labeling the classrooms I would be in and the times I needed to be there. It's going to be my compass. I can't get lost as long as I have that! There's one fear gone.
And yet I'm still freaking out. Maybe I would feel better if I took my trusty frying pan to school with me?
Ooh! Good Luck! Hope school is turning out to be great fun! :-)
ReplyDeleteI myself am almost finnished for good! but then there is university and back into the classroom for this gal! (I want to be a teacher)
~Evie