Growing up

Im Nick Robertson By Im Nick Robertson, 13th Jul 2011 | Follow this author | RSS Feed
Posted in Wikinut>Family>Daily Life

This is a 20 year old male looking back on his 20 years of being a boy. We all have a story, here is a bit of mine.

My First Day

Its my first day of school, I’m 8, I’ve got my rucksack on my back, high up on the shoulders cause I don’t know yet that older boys wear it lower.
I’ve got a fresh, new, crisp, just outa the packet school uniform and jacket on. This morning I needed some help because I found out its hard to tie a tie when you try to tie a tie yourself. Even though mum is the one who packed all my things, she still brings me to the door and before we leave rattles of the check list to make sure,
"Bag", yes mum
"Pens, pencil, rubber", yes mother. What have I got for lunch? Turns out she’s made me a penult butter sandwich, cut into triangles, so my little hands can handle it all, an apple, bag of crisps, grapes and cause its my first day she’s given me two kit Kats, cant wait till lunch.

Mums worried we will be late so we go early and so I’m not scared she holds my hand till the gate, I stand next to my mum in the playground, she’s as scared as me, we cant see anyone we know but all I know is we had each other for that moment. Its five to nine and the whistle blows, I have to join the back of the line, stand up straight, try and say hi to make some friends but first, I hug my mum, I can tell she’s worried for me cause I can see her eyes getting wetter, I’m not going to lie, I wanted to cry too cause I’m terrified, but I know if I do mum will too, so I keep it locked inside.

I wave good bye and go into the classroom, the teacher stands me up in front of everyone, this is Nick, I say hello, no one speaks a silence as long as a week while the kids size me up, then I take a seat. The teacher says that today we will talk about rhyming words but I’m rubbish at English, adjectives, verbs don’t work in my head, "Ok kids now write down all the words that rhyme with bed". Bed, red, shed, I start writing down, dead, fled, ned, fred, scruffy rough handwriting, led, slead, bread, by the end of the time ive got 16 legitimate words that rhyme with bed. I’m a poet and didn’t’t know it yet but in later life I might even write a poem. Teacher asks how many we got and I got the most! I got a gold star I didn’t want to boast but she made me get up and put it by my name , which was a shame cause when I got back to my chair, my pencil case wasn’t there, I had glue on my seat, boy gave me a dirty look and I found a penis drawn on the cover my book. I cant wait till lunch

First Break

It gets to first break, play time, and now im 11, I've reached heaven cause I've been through hell, years 3,4,5 I wanted to die, struggling to stay alive as I was bullied by the older guys, but now, I am the older boy, the bully dick head pricks of year 6 are gone leaving me, the top dog , top gun, top cat, sat by the goal post with the other cool cats cracking jokes, nothing to bother you, trading charmander for pikachu, football, wall ball, dodge ball, any ball based game was our frame of mind, except netball, pfft girls are lame. Or at least that’s what I tell my friends I pretend, but really there’s a girl that sits on my table and I don’t know why but my eyes cannot stop staring at her, her name is Vikki Williams, I think she likes me too cause last week I asked her if she wanted a fruit pastel and she said yes. I want to tell her I like her but its tricky cause when I talk to Vicky I feel sicky in my tummy and I haven’t told my mummy yet and if my friends find out they will think its funny and make fun of me. I sit thinking about her, about how little dimples appear on her rosy cheeks when she speaks or smiles while I pull a funny face from the place of mine at the other end of the circle during circle time, or how she tickles her nose when dust from her clothes floats up and she sneezes cause there nothing she can do but im always there to say bless you. I'll do it, it, now, right now, its my queue, I'll walk over and say Vikki, I like you. I get up, jumper around waist, dirt on face from playing bulldog, brush off the dust and grass, ok…Bell rings for class…phew thank god. Ill tell her at lunch…

Class ends, Its lunchtime, I’m sitting in the canteen and now I’m thirteen, horrible system this, going from being comfortable in a school you get to year 6 and your cool, and suddenly your back at stage one, year one, your not number one now because there are older boys about, with lots of friends and although you know in the end you’ll be just like that, it’s a fact, at the time, you just join the back of the line and get served what life serves you.
On my plate I’ve got chips and a sausage roll, its unhealthy cause Jamie Oliver’s not yet taken control, so I eat up the calories, loving every bite, not caring that PE will be hard because of the lard I’m pumping into me or that if I get in a fight id have to fight cause flight is just too tiring.

I go out to the field, I’m not part of the cool crowd but I’m not a geek, we each have seats and benches where different groups stand. Ours is in the middle, friends just chatting, some kicking a ball around, to the sound of kids laughing, older kids swearing, older girls wearing short skirts case it’s a summers day, make me blush and look the other way. But I mean, I’m not gay, which is a real fear cause I know this one kid called Alex who was called queer, it was just a rumour but everyone thought it to be true, kids make fun of you, and now this Alex is a loner, no friends all cause a someone said he got a boner in an all boys P.E lesson. But me, I like girls, I like girls like girls like Vikki Williams, who is part of the cool crowd, proud to be in the cool crowd and fancies boys in higher years, boys with all the toys and gear, boys who spit and smoke who get detentions and gloat, not boys like me, boys like me she doesn’t see, her eyes pass over me, I don’t get any attention, maybe I need to break out of my bubble and get into trouble , I look at my knuckles and clench my fist but decide that punching someone must just really hurt your wrist.

Bell goes for end of school

Bell goes for the end of school and I’m now 17, I have a job after college I’m a waiter, I’ve got a shift later so I go home to get changed. I love my job, its not just the money, I’m not being funny you meet so many people, seat so many people, great so many as they walk through the door that you cant help but learn from bad customers before about how to talk to people, how to engage in a conversation with someone you have only met for 30 seconds without enraging their imagination as you probe into their life. It gives me that sense of humanity, understanding the sanity of people, but all that’s bull shit really, Vikki Williams works there and she is well fit.

Shift ends at 7 30, and now I’m 19, I’m at university training to be an actor, the first day of uni was just like my first day at school, nothing went to plan, surrounded by strangers but I wouldn’t’t let my mum hold my hand. You learn a lot at uni, mostly about how if you make a mess in your flat, turns out its still there later when you go back. You learn how to keep your room clean, and by clean I don’t really mean clean I mean your revolutionise interior design by replacing the wardrobe with a floor drobe. Your learn how to cook, badly and budget, even worse, I don’t know where money goes, it doesn’t make sense how I still end up eating noodles from asda that cost 10 pence. I stick on the kettle, about to whip up a new batch of instant noodles from scratch, when I realise my first year is over. Where did it go, what have I got to show for it. But Then I look at me now, right now, at the moment ,I’m writing this, on the dot in the spotlight. cause I’ve taken what I learnt back when I was 8, 11, 13, 17, 19 and instead of forgetting it all and letting the past drift away, I’m using it every day, day to day, my life today, tomorrow and the next day will be affected by what happened yesterday. Without my past 19 years I couldn’t be here, in front of you, reciting this in front of you, inviting you to view a short extract of a long journey which has led to this very second of my life, everyone’s got a story to tell, some don’t go as well but for me, I'll just wait and see than you for listening, I couldn’t ask for anything more I just cannot wait for what the rest of my life has in store.

What's your story?

Tags

Comedian, Comedy, Family, Family Fun, Family History, Family Life, Family Matters, Growing, Growing Old Inspiration, Growing Up, Humour, Humourous, Humourous Poetry, Humourous Stories, Humourous Story, Life, Life Changing, Life Experience, Life Journey, Life Poetry, Lifestyle

Meet the author

author avatar Im Nick Robertson
Hey I'm Nick Robertson. Actor, Writer, Poet, Comedian and none of the above. Enjoy...

Follow me on Twitter! @ImNickRobertson

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