Saved by the bell??

June 2003...the month in which I stepped into my 1st school in India. It was a moment I had been dreading but had been equally curious. Will the teachers be as nice?or mean?How will my classmates be?? Will I have any friends?? These were just a few of the million thoughts that were running through my head the night before my first day of school.
We had gone school supply shopping which was quite normal, but this time was a little different. My schoolbooks' list seemed to be never-ending! I was going to join the 8th grade and we were going to learn botany and zoology?Not to mention how complicated the Mathematics textbook looked. I was looking forward to start French once again and the English books, I read the moment I got them. I realised at least there would be a few subjects I could do okay in.
 Another major issue, was the awkwardness and dislike I had towards my uniform. Why would anyone in their right mind subject children to this kind of discouragement to freedom of expression. Yes, I knew it made everyone equal and would be identified as a student, but at least have the colours be a little bright?!Nope, it was a dirty tan colour pinafore(was I in kindergarten?Who in the 21st century at my age wears this style anymore?!)and an even more putrid red and brown checked shirt, along with ugly brown socks and black (girly...yucky)ballerina shoes...EWW!! Geez, I was already feeling suffocated, who knew what would be in store for me the next day?
Spartan Matriculation Higher Secondary School...was it going to be as overwhelming as it sounded? Well, I certainly felt like a soldier going into battle where I would face unknown people, who may speak an alien(the native)language( Tamil known: nil), unfamiliar territory and questionable food. Yes, I know I am sounding a little dramatic and a bit of an foreign-return brat, but I had no idea what to expect, so expecting the worst, we arrived at tall, wide steel gates, leading me to that different world.
I walked in and the first thing that hit me was the huge crowd of brown-skinned faces and black hair! It had been a while since I had seen so many Indian kids in such a large group! Talk about individuality, somehow I felt that even though I had blackish hair and brown skin, I still would stand out, and deep down I hoped I would not drown in this 'Indian Ocean'. I knew how to swim but these waters were unfamiliar, so crossing my fingers, I took the plunge, and hoped for the best.
The classrooms were plain, bare and to my surprise laden with wooden benches and desks, and how can I forget, a blackboard! I thought, I had stepped into some kind of time-machine, I couldn't believe that in such a huge school, chalk and erasers would be used. I had to grow accustomed to the soreness of my rear-end caused  by the hard wooden furniture, and also to the back pain due to my bulging backpack. Had no one ever heard of lockers?
Anyway, every morning we would assemble in the courtyard for morning assembly including prayer time. This was quite interesting. We had a songbook and I quite enjoyed listening to the choir and singing along, it was the lengthy prayers that was unbearable at first.I made up for all the masses I may have missed while being in the U.S. and Canada, all 14 years of it!
As the first day passed, I was introduced to each teacher, as the new student from the U.S., even if I had not mentioned where I was from, my accent did it for me. I can go onto recount the many experiences which baffled, frustrated, saddened and even excited me. Unfortunately, I seem to only remember how I managed to adjust to the new method of studying, new ways of interacting with teachers and classmates, and eventually new close group of friends. I even won my first competition, got 1st prize while reciting Eliot's Macavity: the Mystery Cat, which of course, led me to being called Macavity, ever since...which I kind of liked.
As I had mentioned earlier, the initial few months were very difficult but because of my family and finding a good set of friends, I began to love my new life. Apart from that, Chennai was a bustling city, with lots of places to go and see, so it was not like I had arrived at a place where I was completely bored and missed out on the latest English movies and music. Well, not yet, at least.
As luck would have it, we had to move, yes, again.Spartan was my 12th school and St.Thomas Residential School, Trivandrum, Kerala, would be the 13th...lucky or unlucky only time would tell...but that's a whole new story(post)!