I remember the first day of school as if it was yesterday. I was ready to take my first step into the huge building I've always wanted to be in. A feeling of excitement filled me up, but this excitement was different... It was kind of like a tingly feeling. Similar to the one I get when I'm nervous. But it can't POSSIBLY be nerves! There's no WAY I could be nervous! I had been trying to convince my parents to let me attend for about three long years until we all agreed on this change. Change. It’s an incredibly scary word if you think about it. Letting go of everything you know and starting all over again or something similar. Yes, that was what made me nervous, change. I have always been to the same priso-I mean school. I knew every teacher, every student, every corner of the building, every inch of the corridors. Exactly six and a half months ago, that feeling completely vanished.

I observed the never-ending, dirt-free corridors of my middle school as I made my way in for the first time as a student. As I took my first 10 steps inside the structure, my breath was caught by the view. The view of the sun rising was exquisite. Orange, red and pink filled the skies above the shining star, it all looked like a picture in a post-card. The first bell snapped me off my perfect-movie moment. I cursed to myself as I heard that annoying and disturbing sound that I was going to have to bear with for the next four and a half years.

I started making my way to my first class of the day, of my whole trajectory at high schoo: ELL class. I earned a couple of stares in the way, which made me rather uncomfortable and alarmed. I entered the white, immaculate and spacious classroom and introduced myself to the teacher. After that, the other new kids and I took a seat near each other, still intimidated by the other three or four students beside us. Time went by and I was tired of talking about our vacations. I wanted to get out of there, I needed to. That sound pierced my ears for the second time in the day, the bell. I let out a relieved sigh and earned a slight laugh from the teacher and some of the students.

I wandered the hallways as I looked for my next class, Algebra. I considered myself a standard math student although I knew this class was going to be significantly hard for me since I had never taken this kind of Math. I found the door with the sign that said “008, Ms. Stein Lobovits”. Just as I opened the door to enter the classroom, the bell rang. Again. I stepped inside bashfully and took a seat close to the white board. Soon, the other black and rotund tables were filled with notebooks and pens. The teacher sauntered over to me and said:
“You must take a quiz about what we saw last semester in order for me to know if you’re supposed to be here or in Pre-Algebra, are you ready?”

“Yes” I simply said, confident as ever.
As soon as I realized what I was about to do, extreme nerves took over me. I looked at my hands as they started shaking, my breathing got heavier and heavier. At one point, I couldn't even feel the oxygen going into my lungs anymore, I felt like I was drowning. I shivered and tried to focus. Every part of my body was sweating and I now looked like a complete mess.

I was handed the quiz and I carefully placed it in the smooth dark table. I grabbed my blue colored pencil and took a deep breath. I stared at the sheet of paper, pencil in hand, mind blank. There wasn’t a single problem that I knew the answer to, or how to solve it. I focused on figuring out how to find ‘x’. Nothing. I tapped my pencil on the desk, thinking. Maybe they will have mercy on me and let me stay in the class instead of moving me to Pre-Algebra. No, I didn’t want to be in Pre Algebra; I didn’t want to have to double up in ninth or tenth grade. It would be too much for me to handle.

I was frustrated in every way possible, I felt like I was trapped in a box, unable to breathe, unable to move. My eyes closed, I let a tear fall down my cheek and land on the piece of paper. What am I doing here? At that point, I honestly didn’t know what to do with myself; I was at the point of breaking down in front of the whole class, on my first day of school. My only choice was to keep going.

Those twenty minutes seemed to have been the longest twenty minutes of my life, and still my paper was blank. I decided that there really nothing I could do. When I seemed to impossibly clear my mind, I noticed that Ms. Stein Lobovits was watching me, and I could tell she knew what was going on. I took in a breath of courage, stood up from my seat and awkwardly walked over to her desk. My hands were trembling as I slowly handed her the blank test. “Ms. Stein Lobovits, I really don’t know how to solve this. I’m sorry I disappointed you.” She stared at me for a second, maybe she was at a loss of words. “Clara, it’s okay. Do you really want to be in Algebra?” I honestly really did want to be in Algebra. I knew it would be a challenge, but that’s what I wanted. I really didn’t want to double up in my first year of high school, knowing that it would be even more of a workload. “Yes, I do want to be in Algebra, and I know I can prove myself, if I’m given time” I said. “Okay, here’s what we’ll do: You can come to math lab every Thursday, and you and I can meet up during break time or lunch to help you improve your math skills and to determine whether you’re right for Algebra or not.” A smile wiped across my face. “Thank you so much!” I exclaimed.

I started attending Math lab every Thursday. At the beginning, I felt like it was a waste of my time, since Ms. Stein-Lobovits was always busy grading pieces of work or helping the younger kids. Eventually, I realized that I should go to her and ask for help instead of waiting to receive it. We went through everything that they learned in the last unit until I finally got every single problem. I was incredibly proud of myself and amazingly grateful to the teacher for giving me this opportunity.

That day when I later went home, I realized how idiotic I had acted. I know I should have told her immediately how uncomfortable I was feeling with the situation, instead of putting myself through the misery. I now know that it is okay to speak my feelings and ask for help when needed. I also realized that everything is achievable if you work hard for it. Having goals and working hard to achieve them is one of the things life is for.