This week the kids in my parish went back to school. I can’t tell you how thrilled I was when I noticed kids in uniforms loitering in the neighborhood as they waited for the bus. Of course, when I was a child, this was completely different.
Excitement was the last word I would use to describe my feelings about the first day of school. The minute the bus schedule came out in the paper, I’d start fretting. What about?
Well, I have a great imagination (I’m a writer, remember?), so I thought of all kinds of things. Oh you know, what if I woke up late for the first day? Who would be my teacher/s (Please don’t let it be so-and-so.) Who would sit next to me? What was I going to wear? What if the bus I get on is the wrong one and it’s meant to bring kids to college and I’m supposed to be going to middle school? (I didn’t know college students didn’t have to ride the big yellow bus.)
Yeah, I worried about a lot of things. Looking back, I can only shake my head at my silliness. But then I remember each time I’ve started a new job and yup, you guessed it, the worries return.
There’s just something so daunting about starting a new venture where you’re surrounded by your peers. If it’s something I could do without anyone observing me, say like writing, then I’m fine. It’s when you add the possible-provide-entertainment factor that my palms grow clammy and my stomach lurches.
It’s the exact same feeling I have when I arrive at a conference. Who do I know? Will they think my clothes are bad? Did I remember to put on deodorant? Will I look silly if I do <blah>? Yeah, some things just stay with us, don’t they?