Personal Narrative Essay: Falling Down in Public

I have fallen down a lot over the course of my life, many times with an entourage of people behind me to see me at one of my most vulnerable moments. But what I have realized after falling down and getting up, and falling down and getting up again is that after I’ve brushed the dirt off of myself, the best thing I can do is to keep my head up and not wallow in a negative defeatist mindset.

On this particular day, I burst from the doors of my seventh period classroom straight to the bus lanes, immediately spotting my best friend, Arianna. Arianna and I were very close, we lived in the same neighborhood only a couple buildings down from one another, and we rode the bus together; we played outside together practically everyday.

“Arianna! Arianna Johnson! Wait for me!”, I screamed.

My bookbag swung violently against my back, my feet slapping hard against the pavement as I chased after the girl, my eyes trailing her skinny frame and dark skin, her signature braided ponytail with bo-bo’s getting whisked away with the crowd of students weaving through busses for dismissal. Though, before I knew it, my face was planted in the asphalt, jeans torn and bloody from a nasty cut on my knee. I loved those jeans. All eyes were on me now, friends, teachers, strangers, it seemed like the whole school had congregated just to see me fall! All I could do then was pick myself up, and let out the most dramatic ‘huff’ of my life, stomped foot and all, willing my tears to go away. I sulked all the way to my bus, doing my ‘walk of shame’ alone. Having been the last one boarded, my eyes red rimmed and phantom tear tracks painted my cheeks, a clear sign of my failed attempt at not crying- My bus driver, Mrs. Ladel knew something was wrong.

Mrs. Ladel was one of the sweetest people I had ever met. Little 10 year old me- still a year younger than my peers, had myself convinced that I was all ‘grown and on my own’, a ‘big girl’ in every sense of the word, and Mrs. Ladel was the only adult who treated me as such, making the transition from Elementary to Middle school much easier.She had fiery red hair which adorned her head like a blazen crown, flowing beautifly all the way to her belly; and a smile had always painted her face- her best accessory. She always wore brown cowboy boots and blue jeans, and sometimes even a baseball cap covered her copper locs.

“Oh my gosh, are you ok!” Her face was riddled with worry, I had never seen her so frazzled.

Once the words left her mouth, the waterworks started back up again as the embarrassment and pain washed over me once again. I could hardly make out a proper sentence while choking down sobs and sniffles, wallowing in the shame of the afternoon, the burning in my knee topping it all off. True to her good nature, Mrs. Ladle did all she could to make me feel better. She gave me bandaids for my knee, and tissues to dry my tears, she even drove me straight to my apartment building so I would not have to walk a great distance.

The very next day when I boarded the bus for school, Mrs. Ladel made it a point to ask me how I was feeling and if my knee got any better, and I replied to her that in all honesty, “no, it still hurts.”

She asked the next day, and my reply was the same, and when she asked again the next day, my reply was still the same, and again the next day, until the next day when she stopped asking.

However, on that day, I was ecstatic, my knee felt better again, and I could not wait to share it with Mrs. Ladel, but the question never came. That morning, I stood behind a girl in crutches as I prepared to mount the bus; she was a dark skinned girl with shoulder length pressed hair, with bouncy ringlet curls. Mrs. Ladel greeted her with a cheerful “good morning!” and a warm smile.

“How’s your leg doing?” This question only made me more excited to share the progress with my knee.

“Much better! The crutches are helping a lot.” The girl who I had then deemed “crutch girl”, shuffled to her seat making room for me to board.

“Good morning!” excitement was practically dripping from my words

“Good morning” Mrs. Ladel greeted me back, a warm smile as usual.

I paused expectantly, one, two, maybe three seconds too long waiting for her to ask me that faithful question- “How’s your knee?” Something seemingly so small and insignificant has rendered me speechless.In that moment the glee fled from my face, sinking to the pit of my stomach, solid as a rock.

Why hadn’t she asked me how my knee was? She asked the other girl about her leg, Was I no longer important?

Lost in thought all throughout the bus ride to school, it finally dawned on me: even days after my fall, I had maintained a negative attitude, and dragged that baggage alongside me even after I was given multiple opportunities to show some growth and have a more positive outlook on things. Of course you should never go around setting yourself on fire to keep others warm; putting yourself in awkward positions for others comfortability is just as bad as being a negative nancy who knocks the wind out of everyone's sails. Being the bearer of bad news is always a bummer, and walking through life with a despairing and pessimistic viewpoint will draw the happiness out of yours and others' daily experiences, be mindful of the energy the exude because that mindsets in which you hold yourself in are truly impactful.