I remember my first day of school.
I remember my first day of school.
I stepped inside, and the air felt different, thick, heavy, like something unseen was pressing down on it.
Some kids ran straight in; others held their mother’s hand. I just stood there for a moment.
The teacher smiled. Voices blurred together. The whole room felt like it was buzzing, but not in a way anyone else seemed to notice.
Some kids saw letters on the board; I saw the way dust moved in the light. Some kids heard instructions; I heard the pause before someone spoke, the shift in the air before the bell rang.
I was learning, but not the way they expected.
They thought I wasn’t listening, but I heard everything. They thought I wasn’t paying attention, but I saw too much.
The words in books never sat still for me. But the things no one said? The things no one saw? They were loud. Constant. Everywhere.
I sat at the edge of it all, one hand on my desk, the other tracing patterns I couldn’t explain.
Not behind. Not broken. Just… somewhere else.
School wasn’t built for minds like mine, but the world was. And in ways no one understood yet.
P.S. Yes, photo is me " Rodney Wilson" on my first day of Grade One at Melbourne Grammar School
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