My First Day of School: A Tragicomedy in One Act

Back in the day, it was normal for moms to stay home, and mine was the best. I was what they call a “mama’s boy”—and proud of it. We were together 24/7. She was my best friend, my lunch partner, my chauffeur, my everything. The thought of leaving her for any reason, especially to hang out with a bunch of kids I didn’t know, felt like a terrible mistake.

But the calendar—and apparently the law—said it was time for school. Luckily, the school was just around the corner from our house. That didn’t make it better.

On that fateful morning, my mom walked me to the playground, holding my little hand in hers. I felt like a tiny prisoner being led to my fate. She gave me a smile, said goodbye, and walked away… up the road… around the corner… out of sight. And just like that, my entire support system vanished.

I stood there frozen, surrounded by a sea of chaos. Kids were running, laughing, and shouting. Some were on the swings, some were climbing the jungle gym, and a few were crouched down in front of me, completely absorbed in playing with dinky cars—what we used to call little toy cars before everything became “collectible die-cast models” and tripled in price.

One boy, directly at my feet, had gone all out. He’d carved an elaborate road in the dirt and was guiding his little car along it, humming to himself like he was living his best life.

Unfortunately, my body had other plans. The trauma of watching my mom abandon me to this Lord of the Flies playground boiled over. Without warning—no polite stomach rumble, no “I don’t feel so good”—I suddenly and spectacularly threw up.

The poor kid looked up at me in complete confusion. I’ll never forget the look on his face—although to be fair, I could only see half of it. The other half was obscured by my vomit, which had artfully coated one lens of his glasses. His mouth formed a perfect “What the hell?!” but no words came out.

A teacher swooped in and did her best to clean us both up, but at some point it became clear: this day was over. We both got to go home. That was it—my big first day of school lasted maybe ten minutes.

Over the years, I’ve told this story many times. Most people laughed. My best friends didn’t quite believe me, though—until one afternoon when we were teenagers, walking to the store. Out of nowhere, a guy coming toward us in a crowd of teens pointed at me and shouted:

“That’s the kid that threw up on me in Grade 1!”

My friends froze, jaws dropped. Then they looked at me and said, “Well… guess it’s true. We’ll never doubt you again.”

So, as the new school year begins, I hope no child experiences that kind of first day—and no parent has to answer that kind of phone call.

Happy Back to School, everyone.