It’s the biggest change in a teenager’s life: the first day of freshman year. I got lost more times throughout that day than I have fingers on my hands. While being intimidated by the surrounding upperclassmen, I tried to stay out of the way.



I had one single care, which was shared by the majority of freshmen girls: how I acted around boys—the ones covered in pimples, confused about their hygiene, with hormones radiating off their bodies. They had my complete attention. In dealing with that burden, I tried not to make a fool of myself.



The most embarrassing moment, looking back at the last four years, turned out to be halfway through my first day of freshman year. It happened when the staff shoved me and my grade into an unfamiliar cafeteria. I was still worried about the unhygienic hunks around me. With the laugher of familiar faces, we were quieted by a tap of a microphone.



There, in front of us, stood our high school principal. He wasn’t a small man. He lacked hair. And the hair he had, had no color. The freshman class experienced pure intimidation as he began speaking about new rules. I knew otherwise, and smirked. I had been babysitting his kids for years and I knew him and his children well.



But what made me sink into my chair was what happened after that eye contact. He decided for some reason to point in excitement, wave, say my name, and then say hello over the microphone half way through his speech.



The crowd that was silent seconds before, starting laughing, pointing, and staring at me.



It was my absolute nightmare; I sunk down in my seat and turned red as our school colors. I closed my eyes and covered my face, thinking if I covered face others might follow by closing their eyes or at least stop staring.



That day was every teenager’s dream: to finally be in high school. But in that moment, I was sure I ruined all my chances of being a normal high school student. I thought that moment would haunt me for all four years, and people would judge me every day. But I was wrong.



That moment was the most embarrassing moment of my high school career, sure. But it was only embarrassing because in that moment I was so naive. Sitting in all new classes with all new faces, soon turned into sitting in my daily class with my best friends. Moments of embarrassment not only make for a good story but they also give me a chance to learn about myself. If I didn’t get embarrassed, I couldn’t say I care as much as I do about my high school education.



Back then, I just wanted to fit in. But now I strive to be just the opposite. The last thing I worry about is someone judging me or being embarrassed. Any mistake I make is a part of me growing and learning.



Now, with that same hand I covered my face in shame with freshman year, I wave to my principal in the hallway, open the door for one of my peers, and help to people I don’t know.



After all, they could have just had their most embarrassing moment. And I might be able to make their day a little bit brighter. I wish someone would have done that for me freshmen year. So now I try and be the person who helps, aids and makes someone’s embarrassing moment just a little embarrassing.