Dashed Expectations

         I slowly opened my eyes, one at a time, the lids heavy from sleep, and mindlessly gazed around my room. As knowledge of my life escaped my dreams and crept back into my consciousness, I began to remember that there was something special about today. I glanced at my clock, it was 7:06 a.m., and suddenly I remembered. Today was my first day of pre-school. I leapt out of bed and began pacing, excitedly, aimlessly around my room, proudly sporting my new Spiderman underpants. I wasn’t quite sure what I should have been doing, but I knew that it involved moving excitedly. I decided I would dress myself. I ran over to my dresser and started to rummage through the clothes, pulling out possible candidates along with those items that didn’t fit my discriminating tastes and spread them throughout my room so I could have a better look.

         Once my dresser was completely empty, I found a shirt and pants among the piles. The shirt seemed to be missing a hole or two, but I overlooked that, and with my one free arm, I pulled up my pants. Everything seemed to be pretty much in order when my mom walked in. I subsequently had to answer a barrage of questions, the answers to which I felt were rather obvious. However, I could tell that my mom was quite impressed with how I had dressed myself; although, oddly she expressed this by laughing loudly and calling my dad into the room. After a few minor adjustments to my outfit, it was almost time to go. I ran downstairs and grabbed a few quick bites of breakfast and jumped into the car. Apparently, we had a little more time than I thought, so I jumped out of the car and waited for my parents.

         For the past week, my parents had been preparing me for my first day of pre-school. They painted a wonderful picture of what I could expect when I walked into pre-school for the first time: more toys than I’d ever seen, tons of kids I could play with and the nicest teachers who would organize fun activities for all the children. Also during the past week, my older brother had been countering everything my parents told me with stories of what I could “really” expect on my first day of preschool: long periods of forced silence, where anyone who talked would be locked in the “bad children” room for weeks on end; tons of bullies who would beat you up and take your toys and gradually longer and longer days in school until eventually I never came home at all. Frequently in the past, however, I found my brother’s stories to be less than reliable. For instance, it turns out that no matter how long you try, you can’t touch your elbows together behind your back; and, even if you did, you wouldn’t be rewarded the power of flight. I didn’t find this out though until I had already spent weeks trying to trigger the wings on my back. Anyway, this time I decided to believe what my parents had told me.

         During the car ride to school, I imagined all the amazing things I was sure to experience once we arrived. I imagined jumping out of the car right when it stopped outside the school and meeting eyes with a fellow pre-schooler across the parking lot. We would immediately let out cheers of joy signifying a mutual understanding of the fun we were about to have and run towards each other slapping hands when we met. “To pre-school!” we would yell in unison as we ran full speed at the colossal building, passing the roller coaster and merry-go-round and running right up to the front doors joining the rest of the excited, happy children anxiously waiting outside. Suddenly, the doors would open and a beautiful woman would emerge holding bags of candy and ask, “Is anyone here for pre-school?” “Yes! We are!” all the children would yell barely able to contain themselves any longer, and we would all run inside, our first day of pre-school underway.

         My fantasy was abruptly interrupted by the sound of my mother’s voice. “What?” I asked from the backseat. “I said we’re almost there,” she replied looking back at me in the mirror. I rubbed my hands together and a smile engulfed my face as I looked out my window. Our car pulled into the parking lot and came to a stop. I saw a number of other kids and their parents getting out of their cars. I wasted no time in undoing my seatbelt and jumping out of the backseat. I saw a boy emerge from a car a few yards from me wearing red overalls with a white t-shirt underneath and waited for eye contact. Our eyes met, but he immediately looked away, seemingly uninterested. I was only slightly deterred. “Pre-school!” I yelled throwing my hands into the air and looking around at the other children. However, the response I received was not quite what I had expected, mostly strange looks and some laughter, and not the good kind. I began to wonder if I had slightly overestimated how great pre-school would be, but I remained cautiously optimistic as we turned towards the school.

         I was far from impressed with the building; it was a small one level structure with only a normal sized playground on the side. I assured myself that all the great rides must be inside, but deep down I was starting to get worried. Once inside, I saw a bunch of other children sitting in a circle with an older woman in the middle. She seemed nice enough, but I couldn’t help noticing that her arms did not contain any bags of candy. My parents hugged me and told me to go sit with the other children and that they would be back shortly to pick me up. I noticed a strong unpleasant feeling, like I had never felt before, rise up from my stomach and come to rest in my chest. I suddenly did not want my parents to leave or at least take me with them if they did. But I reluctantly walked over and joined the rest of the children.

         When all the parents had left, the woman in the middle of the circle began telling all of the children about herself and what we were going to do today. I looked around the room; and, although I was surrounded by other children, I strangely felt very alone. Then the women in the middle began asking all of the children’s names. I felt my face get very hot when I told her mine, and the feeling in my chest tightened. I suddenly had no desire to be in pre-school; in fact, I would have rather been anywhere else other than pre-school.

         After a short period of time, we were all told we could play with the toys in the room and get to know each other. Though, by now, with the way things had been going so far, I no longer wanted to get to know any of these kids and I looked around for a place where I could be alone and ponder the day’s events. Before I could find a sufficient place, however, I felt a hard poke on my back. I turned around to see a chubby kid in a blue jump suit. He was talking extremely fast and seemed to be out of breath, but somehow I figured out that he wanted to play tag with me. “Uh, no thanks,” I mumbled turning away, but this did not discourage him and continued to poke me hard on the back. It was now urgent that I get away from this situation. I continued to scan the room and spotted a large green wooden car in the corner of the room that no one was sitting in. Somehow, I managed to distract the chubby kid long enough to slip away and made my way over to the car, whistling casually as not to draw attention. I first sat in the driver’s seat and looked around the room to make sure no one was watching. Then, I slid down underneath the front end of the car and curled up into a ball.

         The rest of the children’s voices were muffled now and I was alone. The outside light only dimly penetrated my hiding place. There was the refreshing smell of pinewood under here, not masked by paint as it was on the outside. A piece of wood pressed against my curled up body, but the solitude here was well worth any slight discomfort. How could I have been so wrong about pre-school? And if I was wrong so far, how could I be sure that all my brother’s stories weren’t true? I decided that I would stay hidden in the car until my parents came back. I began to think of ways I could break it to my parents that I would not be coming back to pre-school. They wouldn’t happy about it at first, but over time I was sure they would come around. Suddenly, a head thrust itself into the hole that separated me from the outside world and peered directly at me. Oh no! It was blue jump suit. I had been discovered. The chubby kid wasted no time in informing the older woman that one of the children had silently slipped away from the masses. Just like that, I found myself once again exposed to the unfamiliar and frightening reality of the situation.

         I stood in the center of the room in a daze for a while, unsure of what I should do. I thought about making a break for it, but I had not paid attention on the drive here so even if I did somehow manage to escape this wretched place, I would be helpless on the outside. While in the midst of my uncomfortable daze, I felt a tap on my back. I turned around ready to really give it to blue jump suit, when, to my surprise, I saw that it was the kid in the red overalls I had seen in the parking lot who had tapped me. He had apparently found a large stash of G.I. Joes and wanted to know if I wanted to play with him. It was an offer I couldn’t refuse so I followed him over to the corner of the room. I was stunned to discover not only did they have a ton of G.I. Joes, but also they had the G.I. Joe home base and the secret plane! I decided that maybe I had been too quick to judge this place and soon became lost in play. It seemed like only a few minutes later that my mom showed up and informed me it was time to go. Neither red overalls nor I wanted to leave but eventually our moms pried us away from the toys. When we got back in the car, my mom turned around and asked me how my first day of pre-school was. “Awesome,” I replied.