We all remember first day nerves, I remember my first day at secondary school, aged 13, I rode up the driveway on my bike to this Edwardian Building, with it's Art Deco detailing, got off and wheeled it into the Boys-Only entrance. Then I promptly caught the pedal on the riser of the step into the building and fell over. This sight caused much amusement to some older boys in the 5th year who were stood watching. I felt very embarrassed.
First day as a Graphic designer I was asked to design a greetings card for a garden centre so I went out into the street to collect grass/flowers and twigs which I could scan and draw... much to the amusement of the other designers who told me I wasn't at university now and they didn't do that kind of lateral thinking in the studio, instead I should just draw something or use clip-art.
First day as a teacher, walking into a classroom and wondering what I had to say to get a noisy class to be quiet! I held my hand up and counted down from 5...4...3...2....1 slowly one by one, every hand started to rise and the class were quiet.. 2 minutes later that were chucking paper planes and shouting again.
I started my new job this week. Another first day. I got off the bus in the city centre and suddenly found myself in the middle of a torrential downpour, soaked to the skin I had to sit in the office, drenched, but slowly drying out and smelling like a damp dog. I have a 3-4 week induction plan which includes training, being mentored and visits, as well as out of office additional training to attend. It's very in depth, but interesting. There is an acronym for everything and for everything an acronym.
Even though as a supply teacher every day was in effect my first day, I knew the routines and stock phrases, children are children where ever I went, different names but same characters. Here though, in this new job I am the new boy and suffer those first day nerves for real. I don't know the building, or the stock phrases, and there are no children to manage. I am the new boy, wearing a suit/shirt and tie when every other man in the office has a shirt with top button undone. I am the new boy taking my packed lunch and leaving it in my bag when everyone else loads up the communal fridge. I am the new boy, trying to learn everyone's names and giving weak hand shakes when being introduced to someone else. I am the new boy here. Luckily though I'm not alone, their is another new boy, who started 3 weeks ago, and a new girl who started same day as me.
Each night this week I've gone to bed and not managing to fully relax as I'm anxious about what to expect from the following day. Once in the office I'm having to ask permission to do certain things, where as in the classroom I was used my word being the final word, in this new environment I'm a team member. I'm trying to get used to life without a bell defining time for me, marking a new lesson, a new segment of the day. Hardest of all I'm having to adjust to a longer working day, which leaves me drained and only fit for bed - I wonder when I'll paint or write again. I realise now how lucky and spoilt I've previously been with my time.
The office is in the city and parking is very difficult, infact impossible. Last week I'd been going on the bus the cost of which soon adds up so much so that I've bought a bike my first since 2003.
The mountain bike has 18 gears, mudflaps, lights, a lock and a bell! What I didn't expect was how unfit I'd become over the last 9 years. In the shop I attempted to hop on the seat to try it for size. Only I couldn't hoist my leg over the cross bar. The shop keeper saw me lowering the angle of the bike, like a reverse limbo dancer raising the bar to make it easier, and offered to steady the front wheel while I climbed on.
After I'd paid for the cycle I walked it over the local park and mounted it. They say, you never forget how to ride a bike, my mind hadn't forgot but my body certainly had. I pedalled gingerly around the park, trying not to ride into dog walkers and joggers. Veering left and right like some drunk in charge of a childs skooter. My legs refusing to provide the necessary energy to propell me forwards. I have been driving a car for the last 7 years and didn't realise how lazy I'd become. My legs must have turned to mush. Had it been that long? I felt so nervous on the road, like it was my first time.
When I was thinking about writing this blog I realised the link between my nervous bike riding and my anxiety about starting to the new job. In many ways I'm hoping that soon I'll be riding none-handed in the office, balancing all the files and dodging all the acronyms.
