Carrie stood outside the door. I can’t go in there, she thought. They’ll skin me alive.
She paced back and forth. She stopped walking and chewed a hangnail. She ran a nervous hand through her hair, tousling it and then smoothing it back down.
What was I thinking? I should have never applied for this job; and they should have never hired me. So what if I have the proper degree? I don’t have any experience. Ohh, what am I going to do? I was supposed to be in there five minutes ago.
Carrie felt nauseous. She should turn around and go home. She should quit before she really got started.
A short redhead flounced by and smiled before entering the room. Carrie took a deep breath. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. That redhead seemed nice.
Straightening her back, Carrie reached out a hand and turned the knob. She walked to the front of the room, picked up a piece of chalk, and in large letters, she printed her name. Turning to the room full of second graders she said, “Good morning class, my name is Miss Jenkins.”
-by PJ Hawkinson