Personal Blogs

First Day

Life is full of first days. First day back to work. The first day we were born. The first day we got married. The first day we read a book. The first day we went to school.

This is my first day in a strange place they call School. They tell me I’m an “infant,” but I don’t understand how that can be true. I’m five—how can I be an infant? Babies are infants, and I’m not a baby anymore. Am I?

The room feels enormous, with windows that let in slices of sky and rows of tiny chairs that somehow make me feel even smaller. The teacher’s voice drifts over us like a soft hum. I don’t understand all her words, but they sound gentle, safe.

At playtime, I notice a group of girls in the corner of the playground. They’re clapping their hands together, faces bright with laughter. Their voices rise in a sing-song rhythm, and I stop, mesmerised:

Pat-a-cake, pat-a-cake, baker’s man, Bake me a cake as fast as you can; Pat it, and prick it, and mark it with B, And put it in the oven for baby and me.

Their hands move quickly—slapping, clapping, spinning in patterns I’ve never seen before. It looks like magic. Their laughter fills the air, and suddenly the whole world feels like it’s made of songs and games I don’t yet know.

I stand there quietly, wondering about all of it—about how this strange new place can feel so full of secrets.