Teacher-stride

Gearing up for my first day at school, I was the most outstandingly miserable person in the academic building. You see, I was already battling homesickness from the previous night (something that inevitably happens if your parents, come along to drop you off in a foreign state). That, coupled with the mental torture of finding my way to school, was enough to fatigue my poor heart. (boo-hoo)

As I pulled up into the car park that morning, I spotted a few students shuffling along slowly in groups heading up the slope towards the assembly area. I was acutely aware of my shoulders tensing up and I quietly shuddered as goosebumps raced up my arms. My heartbeat quickened and I froze, my hands still gripping the steering wheel. 'The enemy' I thought. In a quick desperate motion, I made the sign of the cross, something that had always put a temporary blockade on the insecurities of any circumstance. 

I got out of the newly painted Charade (also freshly blessed with bird droppings), collected both my bags and tried to compose myself in two seconds, before slamming the door shut (it won't shut otherwise) and slowly made my way to the office, in what I thought resembled a confident stride. A teacher- stride.