Echoes of the Garage

Daily writing prompt

Tell us about your first day at something — school, work, as a parent, etc.

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My first day back at Cerritos College in 2015 was… honestly? Horrific.

I hadn’t been in school since 2010, and every attempt before that ended the same way:

probation, probation, probation.

So my expectations were low.

The only reason I even went back was because my girlfriend at the time told me,

“You’ve got five years to get your shit together. Otherwise, I’m out. So you’re going.”

Motivational… in a threatening way.

So there I was — early 30s, heading to college like a grown-ass man pretending he still had a student brain.

And for whatever reason, I remember the hallway before class being this bone-yellow color.

Not bright yellow —

that pale, tired yellow that looks like stress.

I was sitting against the wall, trying to breathe, wearing a leather jacket.

Why?

No idea.

It was cold, I had just come from my valet job, and maybe the jacket made me feel braver or less exposed.

But I remember sitting there, nerves tingling, thinking:

“I don’t want to be here. I really don’t want to be here.”

The class was at 6 p.m.

I had driven almost two hours through traffic after work, parked on the far side of campus, and walked into that hallway like a man being dragged to court.

And right before walking in, I texted her:

“Yo, I’m going home. I don’t want to be here. I’m scared.”

She replied:

“If you come home, I’m not opening the door.”

Damn.

Alright then. I stayed.

My heart was racing the whole time.

And of course, the first class back had to be English — the exact subject that scared me the most.

The professor did the usual first-day speech. Then came the dreaded part:

“Please introduce yourself.”

Bro, I was praying for a fire drill.

When it got to me, I stood up and said something like,

“Roberto Sanchez… first day back… thank you.”

Shortest introduction in human history.

But here’s the funny part:

Nobody cared.

Everyone just moved on to the next student like I wasn’t even there.

The fear was all in my head.

After class, I walked to my car with my heart still pounding but also relieved.

Then another thought hit me:

“Fuck. I have to do this again tomorrow.”

Another teacher.

Another class.

Another introduction.

Another battle with my own damn heartbeat.

That was my first day back at Cerritos College —

not heroic, not inspirational…

just a grown man terrified of school, trying to move forward one shaky day at a time.