When I was in high school, I had nightly dreams that I confused my schedule and ended up at the wrong class. Once I realized I was at English instead of, say, Chemistry, I’d go running through the empty halls to get to class.
And of course, I’d be late.
Everyone would stare. The teacher would glare.
It wasn’t pretty.
And it totally stressed me out.
I’d check my schedule over and over to make sure that I knew where I was supposed to be and when I was supposed to be there.
Turns out, that plan worked. I graduated high school as a member of the National Honor Society. And, despite my anxiety, I had no ‘tardy’ marks on my report card.
Then came college.
A much more demanding schedule with much longer distances between buildings and classes.
The nightmares returned.
And for those who know me IRL (or have heard me whine online), that is when my 30+ years of insomnia (so far) began.
I think not.
The other night was back to school night at the high school. My kid’s in 10th grade. (I still can’t believe that.)
Parents follow the student’s daily schedule. Each class is 7 minutes and there are 3 minutes to get from class to class.
It’s really confusing to find these classes. Up the steps. Down the steps. Down one of the many hallways. Which way? Not that way.
I was, in all seriousness, sweating. The stress was getting to me.
I was late for Spanish. I was late for Art2. I was late for English. Yes, I was late for nearly half of the classes on the schedule.
And that night, I had the dream.
I still worry; I’m still afraid of not being where I need to be.
When I tell my kids that when you grow up, you are still the same person inside, this is not what I was going for.