First Impression

In the morning of August 4, 2016, my only thought was about what I was going to wear. As the hotel closet's wooden hangers shuffled back and forth, my mind was racing with ideas. But at the same time, I didn't want to appear sloppy or a jerk. A new school year and a new state necessitated that I make an excellent impression on the people with whom I would spend the next four years. Suddenly, for the first time ever, the horrendous matching plaid skirts that private schools require occurred to me as an option.

Because I was confident as a teenager, I wasn't driven to madness by insecurities. It had something to do with the fact that I was the new kid for the third time. In my case, I struggled to find friends I could trust to be there for me if I had to pick up and leave once more. Because of my father's company, I was able to begin and end high school in the same location. As a result, there would be no instant reversals when I picked up and left. Because of that, I was apprehensive.

I walked out of my closet, wearing a Target dress with a floral pattern, after a long and painstaking search. The ruffled shoulders and plush cotton made it a comfortable and stylish choice for the day. This was the one, without a doubt. I was still buzzing an hour later when I got off the bus and made my way to room 1136. My jaw dropped to the floor when I walked into my first class.

Mrs. Hutfilz, my English teacher, was sitting at her desk in the exact same dress as I was. The first day of school meant making introductions in front of the entire class, so I kept my head down and tipped my toes in my seat. Before Mrs. Hutfilz could add that she liked my style, I finished my minute-long speech. It was a nerve-wracking experience, but as I began to tell my story, students who had been staring at their phones began to raise their heads and listen intently to what I had to say. "And I'm very stylish, much like my first period teacher," I said as I laughed with my classmates. When I finally struck up a genuine and amusing rapport with my first teacher, I felt relieved.

As a result, I was reminded that high school is a time for making memories rather than worrying about the little things. The ten minutes I spent dreading my speech four years ago were a waste of time. My first period at high school didn't go as planned, but it was an unforgettable experience that taught me how much I admire and respect Mrs. Hutfilz's fashion sense.