… And I remember realizing that my fear of the unknown ultimately led to my downfall.
Everyone hates being “the new kid.” It’s just a universally accepted fact that being “the new kid” is just about the worst thing to happen to someone. Being the “new kid” means tons of unfamiliar faces, not-so-discreet stares in the hallway and classroom, a multitude of personal questions, and even a fear of the unknown. Unfortunately, for me, I just happened to be that kid in the winter of ‘05.
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My grandparents moved back to Burma just when I had finally adjusted to the first grade at P.S. 70, my local elementary school in Queens. My mom decided that with both her and my dad working in Manhattan, no one would be able to pick up me and my brother from school. Because of this, my mom secretly changed our home address in Astoria, Queens to my dad’s work address in Chinatown, Manhattan, claiming that we had moved there. After this was done, I consequently transferred to P.S. 124, a much larger school in Chinatown, to be closer to my dad’s office. That way, he could easily drop off and pick up both me and my brother before and after school.
I held my breath and grasped my mother’s hand as the principal, Ms. Hom, led us into the classroom. “Hello everyone, this is Chelsea and she is a new student here. She will be joining your class from now on,” she said. I smiled shyly as I let go of my mother’s hand and walked to a single empty seat among the sea of students in front of me. I felt my heart beating faster and my ears ringing louder.
“What’s your name again?”
“What school did you go to before?”
“Why did you move here?”
“Why did you transfer schools?”
All of my new classmates bombarded me with numerous questions about myself before my teacher, who had introduced herself as Ms. C, finally realized that I had had enough. I’d always appreciated her long blonde curls that bounced over her shoulders as she moved. She went on to her lesson plan for the day and I sighed of relief.
About 6 hours later, I survived my first day as “the new kid”!
… Or so I thought.
One minute I was following my teachers towards the exit, and the next minute she was nowhere in sight. I was right in front of the auditorium doors when I looked around at all the other kids around me. Are they fifth graders? Why is everyone staying after school? She’s in my class, right? Is her name Miranda? Should I sit with her?
I took a deep breath as I entered the auditorium, my mind in millions of places at once. The loud, rumbling voices of the large groups of people in the room hit me instantly. How is it possible to feel so lonely with so many people surrounding you? I took another deep breath before approaching a tall, thin woman with straight black hair pulled back in a ponytail.
“Can you help me find my parents?” I asked.
“Sorry, sweetie, I can’t leave, but you can sit there,” she said as she painted to an empty seat in front of her, “and wait for them to come.”
I held back my tears as I nodded and hovered towards the seat. I ducked behind the chair in front of me to hide my face as I wiped a tear that had rolled down my cheek. My head spun as an influx of questions flooded my mind. Was anybody even looking for me? Would I have to spend the night in school? What if I starve? Where could Ms. C possibly be?
Just as I wiped another tear from my face, a voice boomed across the auditorium from the loudspeakers.
“Chelsea Wang, please report to the principal’s office.”
My heart leaped once I had heard my name. Finally! I am saved! I jumped from my seat and soared through the auditorium doors, before stopping abruptly. The stench of freshly waxed floors filled my nostrils as I looked around the area. Suddenly, the hallways seemed endlessly long and the room seemed to get bigger and bigger. I, once, again, felt infinitely small and so very lonely, even in a room filled with people. Where even is the principal’s office? I wondered. Maybe there’s another Chelsea Wang in this school.
I turned around and ran back into the auditorium. The fear I had of exploring unusual territory was suffocating me. I sat back in the seat that I had sat in previously.
After waiting for what seemed like hours, I noticed from the corner of my eye a tall figure with blonde curls speaking to a boy who might’ve been in my class. Isn’t his name William? I stared at them for a moment, trying to make out what they were saying. Then the boy looked around the room before pointing right at me, as a look of recognition spread across his face. The lady turned to face me, It was Ms. C!
The next few minutes were a blur. I remember holding my teacher’s hand and walking out the auditorium doors. I remember taking a whiff of the waxed floors once more before bursting into tears of joy and relief. I remember crying even harder at the sight of my dad and my brother, who were clearly worried about me, in the principal’s office. I remember hugging them so tight like I’d never let go. And I remember realizing that my fear of the unknown ultimately led to my downfall.
