All alone, with nowhere to go or hide, I stood there, wishing I was invisible.

I walked into the school building, nervously holding my mother’s hand. I felt and smelled the cool breeze on my face as we entered the building. I was so afraid to be going to a new school.

My mother walked into the office while my little sister, my big brother and I sat on the bench, waiting patiently.

I looked around, surprised at how small this school was. To my left was a long hallway leading to a set of swinging doors hiding two flights of stairs- one going up and one going down. To my right was a good sized gymnasium behind another set of swinging doors. In front of me was the tiny office with a closed door, behind which stood my mother talking to the secretary. All of the walls were painted an ugly shade of beige. It felt strange to be in a school so unlike the one I had just come from.

I sat there, apprehensive about meeting new people and being in a place I was unaccustomed to. In the dead silence, all I could hear was the deafening sound of my heart pounding. I began to grow impatient.

Pretty soon my mom stepped out and told us that our teachers were coming down to the office to get us and show us our classrooms. The secretary came out and introduced herself. She was a tall, thin woman, probably in her thirties, with her short dirty blond hair pulled back and a huge, friendly smile on her face. She then proceeded to tell us the names of our new teachers. She told my brother first, then my sister, then finally me; her name was Ms. Shea. All of a sudden I felt extremely excited to meet my new teacher and all of my classmates.

I watched patiently as my brother and sister each met their new teacher, and I was so anxious to see mine. At last, I saw a small woman walking towards me, beaming. She was short and slim, probably in her late fifties, with short, thin, light brown hair and round glasses. She looked so friendly as she introduced herself. As she led me to her classroom, I glanced back at my mother and saw her smiling at me.

As we climbed up the stairs, I felt goosebumps covering my arms, like tiny pebbles on a smooth table.

When we arrived in the classroom, I quickly scanned the pocket-sized room. I spotted bookcases lining one wall with a small rug sitting in front of them, a large desk in the back of the room, a large whiteboard at the front, and scattered desks and chairs littered the hard tile floor. Ms. Shea showed me a cramped but long closet at the far end of the room where I could hang up my backpack and jacket.

All of a sudden, I heard loud excited talking as a stampede of students came clambering up the stairs and into the classroom. The smell of new clothes and backpacks filled the room as the students noisily filed in. I felt like a tiny mouse in an enormous zoo.

I just stood there, frozen, unsure of what I should do. I could feel all their eyes on me as they stared for what seemed like forever. I saw them pointing and heard the whispering and the giggling. It felt as though time had stopped except in that tiny classroom, and I was the only thing anyone could see. I felt so embarrassed and out of place. All of the relief and excitement I had felt when I first heard my teacher’s name drained away in the blink of an eye. I was no longer confident and excited, but instead shy and humiliated.

I wanted to go home. I wanted to leave this unfamiliar place that I felt I would never adjust to. I wanted to go back where I had friends and people I knew who did not make me feel this way. So much was going through my head that I couldn't think straight. I just stood there, wishing I was invisible. I was all alone.