I love school; I just hate the first day. It’s not the challenge of getting up when you’re used to going to bed or having homework again. What I hate is what we do on the first day…

Inventory tests. I hate them with a passion. They are simple and easy; I’m just not fond of them.

My teacher passed them out one-by-one brutally attempting to match names with faces on the first day. My paper was damp in the top right corner with my teacher’s saliva because of her tongue-moistened finger.

I followed the redundant student procedure: name, date, etc. I started answering the dull questions. Sibling’s names, birthday, hidden talents, hobbies, favorite food…

My eyes skimmed the next question. My lightning fast flow I had going came to an abrupt halt.

I re-read the question.

And again.

And once more.

‘Do I lie? Do I just skip it? Should I just make something up?’

‘That’s not who I live with. I barely know him.’

Thoughts such as these paced back and forth in my head. I looked around.

The other kids flashed through the questions like elementary-level addition problems. But to me, this was much harder than any other math problem. I couldn’t do it. It wasn’t timely or even difficult. I just couldn’t complete it.

It was just this one question.

One by one my classmates eagerly turned in their work, ecstatic to have such an easy first assignment. Shortly after, I was the last one with a paper on my desk.

“Everyone finished?” My teacher’s voice was sweet and bright. It was loud enough to echo in the 10×10 foot room. I easily heard her.

But I didn’t say anything. Instead I inferiorized myself by sinking down in my chair like there was an anchor tied to my ankle. I scurried to grab my backpack and covered my unfinished paper.

Class continued.

The first lesson is always easy. It’s just a review from the previous year. My teacher was talking about a quadratic function or something like that. That’s all I remember because I wasn’t focused on class. I was worried about my worksheet. I still didn’t have it completed.

Before I took another breath, the bell rang. Everyone packed their things in a hurry and fled the room.

I approached my teacher’s desk and presented my unfinished inventory test. “I couldn’t finish.”

My voice was weaker than usual

She looked it over, squinting her eyes to focus the words on the page. “It seems to be completed.” She was confused. She saw no unanswered questions. I slowly lifted a finger and hovered it over question two, which had no answer.

She realized she skipped my blank question. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t think filling in your dad’s name would be such a challenge.”

I hesitated to respond.

I had to force the next sentence out of my mouth.

“For most… it isn’t.”

My teacher was speechless.

Without knowing my hobbies, talents, favorite foods, or even my name, she knew me better than anyone else.