My Alma Mater

by: Getrude Mensah

A new environment.  

But a new beginning, they said.  

Honestly, it didn’t feel like it.  

Everything was just different but certainly not new.  

After all, it was still just a school.  

I had been to one too many throughout my short years, and it all felt the same.  

A siren that rang as a constant reminder that I had no time to waste.  

Voices of teachers that were supposed to be motivational but felt like judgment and criticism.  

Students walking through the halls like rivers that already knew their course.  

Now how was I to feel welcome in a place where everything reminded me that I didn’t belong?  

I did what every other person within these walls like me did.  

I carried hope like a fragile book, careful not to let it fall.  

Perhaps I didn’t need to feel like I belonged — I just needed to get through it, as everyone before me did.