I woke up to the feeling of my mom gently rubbing my back whispering that it was time to get up. It was my first day of kindergarten. I was five years old and as ready as ever to start school for the first time. I had gone to many preschools at ages three and four. I got out the bed and watched as my mom set out my first day of school outfit. It was a red and black plaid dress with black stockings and red shoes to match. I went to the bathroom to wash up and get dressed. After putting on my pretty new dress I walk into the kitchen where I smell bacon, eggs, and pancakes being cooked by my dad. I sit at the table and wait for my food as my mom starts doing my hair. She puts it into four ponytails. The top two ponytail holders match the plaid design of my dress. I finish my breakfast then run to the living room to get my book bag. My book bag was the same exact design as my clothes and ponytail holders surprisingly. When I think about it now, it was more like a suitcase than a book bag. Before we go, of course my mom has to take a picture of me. I stand in the light of the front door’s screen and hold my book bag and smile. I was excited. This was a new start. A new beginning. I was about to start my life, even though it was only kindergarten.

To me at age 5, my first six months of kindergarten were the scariest days of my life. Every single morning, my mom would take me into the gigantic kindergarten classroom. I remember it being huge and seeing all the new faces. They were all staring at me. I felt self conscious because I wore glasses. Everyone’s mom was standing at their child’s table next to them. They helped them get settled, and then it was time for the parents to go. My mom, of course, was the last one to leave. I cried so hard and wouldn’t let her go. Eventually, the teacher forced her to leave and I was stuck with all of these people that I didn’t know. I cried and cried. I could tell my teacher was getting concerned.
In kindergarten, for the first six months, I was the shyest girl in the class. To this day I am still shy. Everyone was staring at people, and I really didn’t like it when people stared at me. The new teacher puzzled me. Her name was Mrs. Felk. I sat there and wondered if she would be friendly, mean, nice, strict, caring, angry, happy, and even abusive. The thoughts in my head overwhelmed me. I over thought every little thing. That is an unfortunate trait that I still do today. I didn’t talk to anyone and I kept to myself.

Kindergarten was the first time that I had been in a real classroom. My preschool didn’t have those long, brown tables, a cafeteria, and other classrooms around the building. In my kindergarten classroom, there were enormous posters of characters, the alphabet, and easy to read quotes. As if the new long tables weren’t enough change, we had assigned seats. We also had one thing that changed my life forever, homework. On class work we had to trace letters, make words, and even add numbers together.

The worst thing about kindergarten to me was leaving my mom. Every single morning, I screamed to the top of my lungs. I didn’t want my mom to leave, especially since she came in the classroom with me every day to drop me off. I didn’t want to stay there all day without her. I am and have always been a mommy’s girl. I didn’t want to meet new people. I didn’t want to do work. I just wanted my mom. I guess, one day, my teacher was finally getting tired of my crying and gave me a cup of water to calm me down. Little did I know that the water cup would be my kindergarten lifesaver. From then on, I did my usual routine everyday; walk in the classroom with my mom, cry when she left, and drink water from that cup. I became so accustomed to this that my teacher bought me my own cup and labeled it, “Ciarra’s Water Cup”.
This water cup was significant to me. I was the girl with the water cup. It was my security; my comfort. Only I could use it; it gave me confidence. Days, weeks, and months, went by and my crying slowly went away. I got so comfortable at school that I was excited to go. I didn’t even wait for my mom anymore. I just gave her a hug, told her goodbye, drank from my water cup, and went to interact with my new friends. I didn’t want to leave school anymore. Kindergarten turned out to be better than I thought. And to think that it was all because of my teacher doing such a little and seemingly insignificant gesture. I have come a long way from this experience. I am still shy, but I am now courageous. Although it may seem and sound silly, if I didn’t have that water cup experience, I don’t know where I would be socially, mentally, and academically. From then on, I was never afraid to go to a new school again.