"Sit here for the present"

...was the instruction Ramona Quimby received from her kindergarten teacher on the first day of school. So she sat without budging, even for recess, to wait for the promised gift. But finally she learned that she had misunderstood. Poor Ramona. If only she'd known a bit better what to expect.

But when you live at school...

...and your mom works at school,

you get to do things like...

find your classroom a day early,

and if the teacher isn't there but the door is open,

find the desk labeled with your name,

find the desk labeled with the name of the one classmate you've met,

learn the names of the two girls sitting on either side of you,

and study the wall and discover you're the only child in the class with a May birthday,

and that on the first day, you'll be in the independent reading group while your teacher is working with a second group and the reading specialist is working with a third,

but the names are on cards that slip in and out of clear pockets, so all of that will probably change on different days,

and you can explore the book rack and find to your delight that two series that you like are well represented there,

and you can read the word problem on the board and decide to think about that more tomorrow.

Then you can find your locker in the hall,

and go next door to look around the Mandarin teacher's bright new room with the hanging lanterns, and meet her, and talk about the weather panda on the board,

and meet the friendly new nurse and be shown the corner where sick kids lie down, and learn that she knows about your allergy and knows about Benadryl, too,

and you can practice walking back and forth from your apartment to your classroom three times,

so you're ready to walk to school All By Yourself --

your choice --

on the first day.

All of which is pretty great if you're new and a wee bit nervous.

So you lay out your uniform,

put your show-and-tell in your backpack,

and go to bed imagining the first day...

...wondering what could be in that wrapped present that--no joke--is on each student's desk in the second grade classroom.