A Beginning I’ll Never Forget

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

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First days have a strange kind of weight to them.
They arrive quietly, but they stay with us forever.

My first day of school is still tucked somewhere in my memory—not sharp, not detailed, but emotional. I remember holding onto a familiar hand just a little longer than usual. The classroom felt enormous. The voices were loud. Everyone seemed to know where they belonged, except me.

I didn’t cry.
I didn’t smile much either.
I just observed—trying to understand this new world where I was suddenly expected to sit still, listen carefully, and become someone a little bigger than I was yesterday.

Years later, my first day at work carried a similar feeling, just wrapped in different clothes. A new desk. New faces. New responsibilities that felt heavier than the bag I carried. I nodded a lot, smiled politely, and silently hoped no one would notice how unsure I felt beneath all that confidence I was pretending to wear.

And then there are first days that don’t come with instructions at all.
Like the first day of becoming responsible for something—or someone—bigger than yourself. The kind of day where excitement and fear sit side by side, both asking for attention.

What I’ve learned from all my first days is this:
None of us truly know what we’re doing in the beginning.

We learn by showing up.
By making mistakes quietly.
By surviving the awkwardness.
By growing into the role, one moment at a time.

Looking back, those first days didn’t demand perfection from me.
They only asked for courage.

And somehow, every time, I found just enough.

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