You walk into the new classroom with your new backpack, sparkling new shoes, new outfit that you’ve tried on a few times before today, and school supplies you’ve recently purchased. The idea of crisp white paper, never written upon excites you.
Your classmates are staring at you. You nervously inch to the back of the room, hoping you’re invisible. But then you notice the cute boy across the way, laughing with his friends. They turn their eyes toward you. Your cheeks heat up. You drop your backpack and all your belongings fall out to the floor. You quickly try to pick up everything, only to have a pair of brand new sneakers come into view. You look up. It’s the cute boy. Your breath lodges in your throat and you try to smile, except you give him a wobbly glare instead.
He shrugs and walks away. Then you call yourself a million times a fool and think these things only happen to you. You shove all your supplies into your backpack and scramble to the seat in the back of the classroom. The boys are laughing about something but you’re pretty sure they’re making fun of you.
First day of school. Sound familiar?
It’s amazing how fast times flies. As a child, I always wished I was older and could skip past the awkward encounters, the learning curves of puberty and adulthood, and worst of all relationships and figuring out what I want to be when I get older. Now that I’m older, I would give anything to go back to being a child. Life was so much more carefree. School was exciting. And I didn’t have to worry about how my book sucked or battle the uncertainties of being a writer or go through the struggles of submission and finding the perfect agent.
In actuality, I’m still trying to figure out what I want to be. Do you know?
I actually went to school for marketing but find that writing interests me like no other career. I remember when I used to go to school with my composition notebook and write notes and jot down ideas throughout the school day. Then I’d go home and put my notes and story ideas onto paper in longer paragraphs. The writer in me started the day I picked up my first romance book when I was nine.
If I did have another chance at school, I think I would go back for my MFA. Just so that I could study the art of writing and wrap myself in the great literary stories introduced in classes I’ve seen. I’d have a ball freelancing and writing creative stories, just because I had to do it for homework. Doesn’t that sound awesome?
If you had a second chance to be back in school, what would you do?