My first day at a canadian high school

As I make my way up these concrete steps, I am overcome with anxiety. A blanket of uncertainty washes over me and I wish for this day to end. It is not my first time being the new kid in school, on the contrary, it is my 4th high school and the third country I've been thrown into in these past four years. I am far too familiar with this prayer, to go through the motions of day number one unprovoked. There she stands, this lovely tall short-haired freckle-faced sophomore. With a warm smile and her hands interlocked in front of her uniform, she greets us and directs my parents and me to catch up with the other group of newbies for a tour to then begin our first day. Anxious and now restless, for I have never looked at someone and felt this giddy.  If I had known she'd be my wife today, well, I would've gotten out of my comfort zone and mustered up the courage to introduce myself that very same morning. 

I noticed early on no metal detectors nor an inexhaustible wave of security guards. I was never a fan of those things but couldn’t help but feel conflicted. Not even truly knowing how things are run in this country, I judged. Looking back now I suppose that I was a bit embarrassed that I came from such an undesirable place. A victim of America's overzealous need for false security and its backward mentality on violence in teenagers of a certain background made me fear the space I was entering. As the tour continued I could not help but wonder why it was so quiet, so empty, and why I felt so out of place. The school was not overcrowded nor understaffed. There wasn’t this constant bumping into different bodies. My sense of security wasn’t being chipped away by a slew of people. My eyes and head lowered in shame. I felt so undeserving of it. Well, so I thought. HighSchool has its ecosystem and is its own world, and being a new entity is in every sense of the word, horrid. 

 " This is you here," the school's guidance counselor said to me. 

Luckily my parents respected my wish of not hugging me and just waved as I entered the classroom. 

" Welcome, find any available seat for now." I do as I am told by the teacher. 

"Good morning everyone, this morning let's welcome a new student from New York...", the voice became quieter and quieter as my heartbeat grew loud enough that it resonated in my eardrums. I looked around the class in suspense. Slowly analyzing every single face in the room. The facial expressions on their faces. I could feel their eyes on me. Curiosity, desire, opportunity, and envy lurked behind those stares. I couldn’t shake my US public school upbringing. I was coming from a school where the populace looked like me and spoke like me. I knew this would be different, my time in this school would be a learning curve. It might’ve been wrong of me to be so critical of everyone through the lenses of America. People are just like you, insecure, afraid, and imperfect. Everything is to be handled with patience.

There she is again, she stares at me, I sink into her narrow brown eyes. Here’s that feeling again. I could not have imagined that others also felt like this. Flustered beyond comprehension.  I tried to smile as I heard my name being repeated. 

" Hello... are you still with us," the teacher asked.

I nodded yes. 

" Would you please introduce yourself to the class and tell us a fun fact about yourself?" 

Not my first time having to do this, it is routine for me at this point. The tax you must pay as the new kid on the block. Sadly, my experiences have shown me that those with the misfortunate inability to communicate fluently or properly can have that lack used against them to assess their intelligence. It is not right to assume intelligence can only manifest in one way. Did I forget to mention that this is a French high school? How do I not look stupid in front of this girl I think I like? How do I begin? All those questions spring up in my mind as I stand at my desk searching for the very few French words that I could remember.

" Hello everyone, Shhh sorry excuse-moi...Salut. Je m'appelle H… c'est tout. (Excuse me...Hi. My name is H... that’s it.)" I quickly sat back down. The bell rang and the other students pushed their way out the door. I gather my things and I head out. Their sense of urgency confirmed that it was our lunch period. I feel a light tap on my shoulder and a silvery voice says, “Hello.”

“Oh hi”, I responded. She noticed that I was unsure whether or not we could communicate.

“By the way, I speak English, if you ever need anything, I’ll try my best to help”.

“Ok thank you.” I wanted to ask her name and ask her to show me around but I couldn't bring myself to say anything. Her friends called out to her and she started walking towards them. She suddenly stopped and turned.

“ The cafeteria is on the first floor, follow the signs, or you can step out to buy lunch.”

“ Step out as in leaving school grounds?”

“ Yes.” she chuckled and caught up to her friends.

Everything lined up for me to ask if I could join her but I could only think of how anxious I was still feeling. I ran to the lockers and packed my things. I made up my mind to go home. I knew if I got in trouble for it, well, at least I can blame it on confusing the luxury of leaving for lunch with school finishing early. And yes, even on a regular Tuesday.