Be My Teacher || K.SJ

T W O

I sit in the passenger seat of my dads car, biting my lip as I nervously play with my fingers. My stomach is doing somersaults, flipping over and over again, my hands shaking with anxiety as I gather the courage to walk inside. 

"You'll be fine, sweetheart." My dad says, attempting to reassure me. 

I was excited only for a short while. The paralysing fear returned quickly. I guess you could say I have social anxiety. It takes me a while to become comfortable with other people. 

I don't do well in large crowds, which is one of the main reasons I didn't have a lot of friends back home, and I was never apart of the cliques. But this is on a whole different level. I'm about to walk into a school where people don't speak English, and no doubt I'm going to be the only black girl there.

I take a deep breath and ready myself, pushing the negative thoughts away and replacing them with positivity. I need to focus all my energy on this literature class, to make my dream come true.

"Okay, I'm ready." I say with confidence. I clutch my bag and open the car door, my fingers still trembling on the handle. 

"Have a good day." My dad chirps, smiling at me. 

I return his smile and nod my head, stepping out of the car and onto the sidewalk. I look at the building ahead of me, scanning the architecture, taking it all in. 

I watch the crowds of people flocking inside the main gate, heading for the entrance. They're smiling, laughing and talking, something I imagine I won't be doing much of for this last year. 

I let out a subtle sigh and bite the bullet, clutching my bag tightly and walking towards the main entrance. I try and display confidence, keeping my head up and looking straight ahead as I walk, but I can feel all eyes are on me. I notice heads turning, whispering and glances from my peripheral vision. 

I feel uncomfortable. Right now, all I want is to go back home and bury my head under my covers, to hide from everyone. But if I want to make my dream a reality, I need to work for it. It won't just come to me, it's something I need to strive for, something I need to push myself to achieve.

A small smile creeps onto my lips, confidence suddenly taking over. I pick up my pace, making longer strides as I walk. I loosen my grip on the strap of my bag, my heart rate calming and my stomach soothing. 

I'm going to make this a year I'll never forget.

I enter the building and immediately head to the administrations office, secretly begging that they speak, or at least understand little English. 

A petite woman with short black hair sits at a desk, tapping away on her computer. I clear my throat to gain her attention.

"Excuse me?" I say, barely above a whisper.

She looks up, a warm, welcoming smile immediately appearing on her face.

"Hi, you must be Willow Collins." She says in perfect English. 

I'm taken aback by it, not expecting anybody to speak English, let alone this fluent.

"Yes!" I blurt out happily, smiling widely. 

"I have your schedule right here. I believe your father already queried about the optional literature class?" She responds, searching through a pile of paperwork.

"Oh, yes he did." 

"Are you still interested?" 

"Yes, very much so." I smile, nervously gripping onto the hem of my skirt.