With two days, 23 hours and 15 minutes left until the first day at my new school, I’ve finally entered stage three of Enrolling-In-A-New-School-With-Only-One-Semester-Of-Grade-12-Left Syndrome. After denial and acceptance, all I have left to go through is the “worry about all the stupid little things” stage.
The first anxiety is the cafeteria. The idea of a cafeteria sounds great in theory. A single, gigantic room in which every single student eats lunch. A cafeteria isn’t so great in practice. There’s the disgusting factor- seeing someone take a big, sloppy chomp of greasy pizza and then slowly mouth-purge the sauce off each individual finger is more disgusting than the word, “earwig.” Even worse is the squatter’s rights factor. Whether it smells like cheesy foot or not, a cafeteria table is the proud ownership of an individual group of students. This isn’t such a big deal- unless you’re entering a school in the middle of a year. Which I’m doing. I might ignorantly sit smack in the middle of a cafeteria table that’s already been claimed.
Then there’s the bus stop thing. At my old school, there were two acceptable bus stop behaviours: 1) acting depressed and staring vacantly in the direction that the bus comes from. 2) acting depressed and staring vacantly at your friends with the shared knowledge that you’re not going to a happy place. Meaning, school. But what if it’s different at Cameron Heights?
But worst of all is hearing my older sister’s anxieties about starting at a new school. Meaning, worrying about whether denim is acceptable in Kitchener high schools, or if purple socks in white running shoes screams, “Look at me.” Personally, I don’t have to worry about that. First of all, it’s a stupid thing to worry about. And clothing wise, I’m going to fit in with the same group that I did at my old school: the, “is wearing whatever they pulled out of their drawer first,” group.
Scott Dobson-Mitchell can be reached at: firstname.lastname@example.org