My First Day

My best friend, Philly, who lived next door to me, started school in September, because his fifth birthday was in October.  I missed him so much for those few months and longed to be able to join him, but I had to wait until the next new term started after Christmas.

I was so excited, walking hand in hand with Philly, our respective mothers chatting together behind us.  “Philly, what’s our teacher’s name, again?”

Philly sighed loudly “I’ve told you loads of times, it’s Mr. Golby.”  “Oh, yes, I remember, now.  Is he a man?”  Suddenly the thought of a strange man taking my Mum’s place and having sole responsibility for me became overwhelming.  As we crossed the gate to the school, I suddenly became filled with dread and despair.

“You’ll be fine, just stay close to Philly.” Mum said as she tried to disengage from my arms trying to cling to her.  “But, I’m scared, Mummy.  Don’t leave me.” I sobbed uncontrollably.

Mr. Golby, newly qualified and not used to such young children, especially ones that wouldn’t stop blubbing.  “We will start today, introducing ourselves to everyone, when I point to you just tell us your name and your favourite food.”

Fear gripped my stomach and wrenched it into a ball.  Dreading the time when I had to speak out loud.  I sat holding Philly’s hand, looking at him desperately.

Philly said “My name is Philip and my favourite food is pie.”  He looked at me and nodded encouragingly.  Flames flew to my cheeks and I started to feel hot.  I couldn’t speak or even think, because I was too busy panicking.  Bright red, I started to cry and to my horror, I wet myself.

The day continued as badly as it started, no-one noticed I was wet and the puddle at the back of the classroom was unseen.

When we were waiting, wearing our coats and scarfs, ready to go home, I heard one of the cleaners say to her colleague “I told you there would be an accident, didn’t I?”

I stiffened in horror, about to be found out and started to cry again.

The cleaner went on “Having a vase of flowers on a desk, in a room full of five-year olds, is just asking for trouble!”

382 words Sandy Bryson

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