RIF's Back-to-School Writing Contest: Winning Essay

My First Day of School 
By Alexis W.
Age 11
Hopkins, SC

My alarm went off at 7:30. Startled out of my sleep, I somehow got myself tangled in the bed sheets and fell face-first onto the floor. It was the first day of school and I planned on it being a nice day. But from the bad omen, I knew it would be a bad one.

I finally got myself untangled and went to brush my teeth and wash my face. Then I quickly got dressed and ate my breakfast. I didn’t want to be late for school. Suddenly, I saw a yellow bus stop in front of my house. What was this, I thought, the bus wasn’t due for another five minutes! Choking on my glass of milk, I raced to get my book bag and sprinted out of the door.

“Wait for me!” I yelled. Too late. The bus roared off, and left me standing in the dust. Coughing and sneezing, I walked back home.

Ten minutes later, my mom dropped me off in front of the school. “Bye, mom” I said. “Bye, have a nice day”, she replied before I closed the door.

I looked at my watch. It was 8:30. I had only five minutes to get to homeroom before the bell rang. Walking quickly, I rounded a corner and walked right into a teacher. On her name tag it said: Hi, I’m Mrs. Winkler. I intended on saying, “Excuse me”, or “Sorry, Mrs. Winkler,” but before I could even partially open my mouth, the teacher interrupted me. “Watch where you’re going, young lady!” she shrieked, and stomped away.

Recovering from that explosion of Mrs. Winkler, I shook my head and checked my watch. I had three minutes to get to homeroom. I started to run, glancing at my watch occasionally. Two minutes and 15 seconds to go. The J-building (the sixth grade building) came into view as I rounded another corner. My mouth was dry. One minute and 30 seconds to go. I opened the door to the building, and then sprinted down the hallway. 50 seconds to go. I opened the classroom door. 30 seconds to go. I ran to my seat and slumped over my desk, panting. I was just in time. The bell rang. I sat up and made triumphant gestures, shouting, “Yes, I made it!”

But something was wrong. I looked at everyone. They were all dressed alike, even the boys. But as I looked at my neighbor's clothing I saw she was wearing: A plastic, pink show curtain toga with white daises, brown hiking books with cleats, and a rainbow striped ice cream cone turned upside down on their heads. Everyone else stared at me. Then a girl with read, curly hair and purple framed glasses said, “What are you wearing?” while looking at my jeans and sweater with a disgusted look about her face.

“Excuse me,” I said, trying to be polite despite her rudeness, “But what are you wearing?”

“I’m wearing the school uniform, aren’t I Stacy?” she said to a girl with short, brown hair. Stacy nodded.

Just then, Ms. Haynes, wearing the same clothing as everyone else, walked into the classroom. “Good morning cl…” She stopped mid-word, staring at me. Then finally she said, “Go to the office so that the principal can deal with you not dressing properly.” Nervously I got up and went to the office.

Soon I was sitting in front of an angry Mr. Montgomery, and a mad Mr. Moon, dressed exactly like everyone else, both of them asking me why I was not dressed properly.

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