Big school

My son is excited. He's going to his new 'big school' this afternoon for a few hours. I on the other hand I am feeling quite nervous. I remember how I dreaded the prospect of leaving the safety and warmth of my infant school to embark on my journey into junior school. It all seemed new and strange, full of unknowns and people I hadn't met. The teachers were scary. Two in particular were known for their occasional bouts of rage. During lunch break, dinner ladies would patrol the playground. I recall there was no grass, just a very hard tarmac'd surface with strange lines and circles painted on it. Falling over would result in hideous bruises and bloody scrapes which would be treated with TCP and witch hazel. I always sought out the kindest dinner lady and soon befriended her. She had a new digital watch. I hadn't seen one before and it was amazing. I clung to her as much as I could. I felt safe with her and she protected me from the big boys.
I would hope against hope that the bell wouldn't ring and I wouldn't have to go back in to class. The route back took me up a flight of stairs unchanged from the day they were built at the turn of the last century. The brickwork was shiny and appeared to be sort of varnished.
Returning to class, I would take my seat once more unsure of what was in store for us. I had a good view of the clock. That was good, as I would have my eye on it a lot, willing the hands to move faster... but they never did.