I will never forget my first day in eighth grade. For seven years I went to a Catholic school, and now I was going to public school. After seven years of wearing a uniform, I could decide for myself what I wanted to wear.
About two weeks before school started, Mom took us shopping for school clothes. I was excited about wearing Levi's Jeans to school. I also bought a few colored
tee-shirts, and flannel shirts, which were popular at the time.
The night before school started, I was very nervous. In my old school, I was pretty popular, but St. Anne's was tiny compared to East Junior High, which had over 700 students in each grade. I already knew some boys from the neighborhood who were going to East, but I didn't know if we had any classes together.
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That morning, I ate a bowl of cereal before I walked one block to the bus stop. There I saw my neighborhood friends: Tony (who now has his own roofing business), John, (who went on to join the NYPD), Fred (who runs a restaurant in Atlanta), and Eddie, (who is an accountant at big firm on Wall Street).
We were not the only ones at the bus stop. Some tough kids who lived on the next block were waiting, too. Some were smoking, which scared me a bit, but they stayed with their group and we stayed with ours.
When we arrived at school, I met Mrs. Hayden, my homeroom teacher. After she took attendance, she gave each of us our schedule and locker combination.
I had never opened a locker in my life, and didn't know how. I stood outside my locker watching all the other kids opening their lockers with ease. Then I saw my friend Fred. I asked, "Fred, can you help me open my locker?" Fred came over, and made it look easy. I threw some things inside and went back into homeroom.
"I got that locker thing" I thought to myself, "noooo problem."
After lunch I went back to my locker, and it opened on the first try! I threw my schedule inside. There were only two classes left, and I already knew the room numbers. Room 224 was Social Studies 8 with Mr. Mintz.
Mr. Mintz called attendance, and my name was not on the roster. "No, you're not here, . . . come up here with your schedule," Mr. Mintz said.
I paused before I replied, "I left it in my locker."
This seemed to make Mr. Mintz angry. "You left your schedule in your locker on the first day of school?" I could tell it wasn't really a question. "Go to your locker, then," he barked. I got up and started walking out of the class. Mr. Mintz cried out "Where are you going?"
"I'm going to my locker, to get my schedule, like you said," I answered plainly.
Mr. Mintz informed me that students can't leave the room without a pass. Some students laughed. I came back into the room and walked up to his desk. I waited there for about a minute. Mr. Mintz hissed, "What are you doing here?"
"I need a pass." More laughter.
"Then write one out!" He pointed to some paper next to his desk. Mr. Mintz was losing his patience with me. But I had never filled out a pass in my life. I told Mr. Mintz I didn't know how to fill out a pass. Mr. Mintz couldn't believe it.
"You can't write a pass?" More laughing. "Would somebody show this kid how to fill out a pass?"
I looked around and saw Tony. He was laughing at me, but he was still a friend. He pointed to the passes, so I took one and brought it to his desk. Tony showed me how to write out the pass. I started walking out of the class when Mr. Mintz roared, "Where are you going!?"
"I'm going to my locker, to get my schedule, like you said."
"Where is the pass?"
"Right here!" I held the pass over my head for all to see.
"That pass is no good unless a teacher signs it!" Mr. Mintz said. Some girls giggled. Boys snickered. My face turned red. I walked up to the desk, and Mr. Mintz signed the pass.
I was so embarrassed! On the first day of school I made a complete idiot of myself. All I wanted was to look cool, and now everybody is going to think I am a total dork. I walked down the hall to my locker. I turned the tumbler, right . . . left . . . right . . . the locker didn't open. I panicked. Mr. Mintz is going to kill me! I tried again. Nothing. I looked up and down the hallway for help. It was empty. I waited. Nobody came.
I walked back to class. "What took you so long? Where is your schedule?" Mr. Mintz cried as I entered the room.
"I can't open my locker."
The laughing turned into screaming. One student stood up, pointing at me with one hand and holding onto his stomach with the other. The teacher from next door came over to see what all the noise was about.
"Just sit down kid," Mr. Mintz said to me, "and bring your schedule to class tomorrow."
"I will." My voice cracked.
My first day of school was a total disaster. I couldn't wait to go home and cry into my pillow. From now on, I would be known as a loser.
The next day I went to the bus stop. Tony was telling the others about Mr. Mintz's class. They were hysterical. When he finished the story, they told me how funny I was! "It wasn't funny, it was embarrassing!" I protested.
But they insisted that I was funny, and I stopped arguing. It didn't matter what I thought. The students in school thought I was funny, too. "Oh, that's that funny kid in Mr. Mintz class," I heard a girl say in the hallway. From then on, I always tried to be funny. I concluded it was better to have a reputation as funny, than no reputation at all. The next year, I was voted the most humorous student in East Junior High School.