I Don't Want To and You Can't Make Me

I don’t want to and you can’t make me…
I couldn’t sleep at all last night. I tossed and turned thinking about all the different scenarios that might play out. I kept imagining what I would say to the kids. Will they like me? Should I carry a knapsack or a briefcase? Should I bring a lunch or buy a lunch? Will the teachers like me? 
I was halfway between nervous and just flat out insecure; no matter how many jobs I’ve had, or how experienced I am, I still look like a teenager? 
I decided to get out of bed; sleeping wasn’t happening. I decided to be productive and make lunch after all. I cut up some tomatoes, threw them in a bowl. I sliced through an avocado, traced lines through each half and spilled the contents into the bowl. I reached for the half-lemon in my fridge, and placed it on my head. Then I began to peel a Spanish onion. Normally the lemon trick keeps the tears from flowing, my mom taught me that. But today- today was different. I could’ve had six lemons on my head and it wouldn’t have mattered; the tears wanted out. As I lay on my kitchen floor, lemon on my head, onion in one hand, knife in the other, I cried. I cried. I cried. 
I cried until 6:45. And then I cried some more. I would’ve kept crying all morning but I didn’t want to look all puffed up on my first day of school. It didn’t matter how big my glasses were: they couldn’t hide the evidence. I got up off the floor and continued to dice the onion. Tears kept flowing but I wiped them away. I was thankful I could use the onion as an excuse to keep crying, even if it was just a little. I smushed the contents together and voilà! I smeared some guacamole on some bread, cut it down the middle, and then again to make four little triangles. Paper towel. Aluminum foil. Done.
Getting dressed is usually a simple task, a mindless task. Not that day. I dreaded that day. I wanted to get back into bed and sleep. I was so tired. I wasn’t ready. I wished I had had one more day to prepare. 
Enough. Grow up. Enough. Just get dressed and get to school. I kept chanting ‘enough, great dressed’ over and over in my head.
Black pants, white shirt, camel sweater vest and heels. High heels. No. Short heels. I don’t want to look like I’m trying too hard. Briefcase. Definitely briefcase. I kind of looked like a lawyer, or a waitress. Whatever. One quick look in the mirror and I was on my way. 
I got into my car, turned on the engine, placed my hands on the wheel, closed my eyes and prayed: don’t cry Zoug. Please don’t cry. 
Enough was enough. I was acting like a baby. I was on my way to my first day of a really important job and there I was crying like a little baby. Why was I crying? I could handle this- I had done this before. Enough was enough.
I parked my car and walked up to the school. Opened the doors, took a deep breath in and smiled. Forced smile, but a smile nonetheless. That’s not true. I was happy: nervous, but happy. I walked down the hallways thinking, ‘I’m going to be walking down these hallways everyday this year, maybe next year too. Ugh! I really am excited!’
I walked over to 3A. My classroom. My classroom! I opened the door, walked in; the room was already packed with students. I walked right up to the front of the classroom, placed my briefcase on the floor beside the desk, looked around at the nervous teenaged faces and smiled. I was going to be fine. 
“Hi everyone. My name is Alecs Kakon and I will be your teacher this year.”
Looking back on that first day of school makes me think about how far I’ve come and how great I did that year teaching Spanish. I think about how nervous I was and about how the nerves were a necessary part of the day. If I hadn’t been nervous then I wouldn’t have over-thought every single thing that I had done. Everything from my attire to my lunch was integral. That guacamole sandwich saved me. 
At lunchtime, in the teacher’s lounge, I took out my aluminum foil-wrapped sandwich. As I lifted the first triangle to my mouth I noticed a young man, in a suit, head down, staring at the table in front of him. I walked over to him and asked if everything was all right. He told me that he had forgotten to pack a lunch- I guess he was just as nervous about his first day as I was. I went to the other end of the table, grabbed my sandwich and sat down next to him. John and I became quick friends as we sat there, on our first day as teachers, sharing my guacamole sandwich.