This is the true life of an insignificant freshman who is deathly afraid of stairs.
    Sure, every single freshman is intimidated by Paul Laurence Dunbar High School. The imposing front entrance, the wavy-glassed-walled corridor, the hugeness of it all… it’s- it was- pretty frightening. But everyone got used to it by the second day.  No big deal. And five minutes is plenty of time to get anywhere, right? Just find some stairs and push your way through.
    Well, maybe it’s not so easy for some, not if they have climacophobia- the fear of falling down stairs. It’s true. Okay, well, maybe I shouldn’t go that far. I am not scared. I have no problem with stairs. They are handy, if you want to get up and down somewhere.  
    But I still think there should be little signs at the top and bottom of every set of stairs, warning people of the risk of falling, of maiming themselves for life, of tripping others and injuring them as well, or, at the very least, making a monstrous embarrassment out of yourself.
     Over the summer, people would often ask me if I was scared about high school. I would immediately start rambling about the various dangers of stairs and the major health hazards they pose to unbalanced people.
    It’s just that I don’t want to fall down the stairs at school in front of hundreds of people. I don’t want to cause other people to fall and start off a domino effect, one falling down after the other.
     Somehow, I know that other students would not be happy at all if I caused injury to them- or, even worse, be late to class. And it very well may be another reason for upperclassmen to become even more frustrated with the freshmen.
    My whole high school career depends on whether I fall down the stairs or not. It’s a pretty heavy burden, especially when stacked on top of my 70-pound backpack.
    So, it’s probably understandable that on the first day of school, in addition to the usual worries about where to sit at lunch and not getting lost in the crowds, I was panicking about the stairs. Sadly, the first time I would have to use the stairs would be after second block, when the halls would certainly be filled with students lingering around to catch up with friends after the summer break. As the first two periods flashed by, I nervously bit at my nails, thinking of alternatives to the stairs. With utter horror, I realized that since the elevator was off-limits and the ramp was far out of the way, I had no alternatives.
    I would have to face the stairs, after all.
    The teacher dismissed the class, forcing me to slowly shuffle towards the stairs. All of a sudden, the stampede of students started to force me down the stairs. I slowly and gingerly tried to pace myself down the stairs.
     The stairs seemed even more long, crowded, and unsafe- than usual- as I made my way down. Couldn’t they put some cushioning at the end to break falls or something? Why didn’t they put another ramp here instead? Why were the people around me in such a hurry, anyway? As all of these questions overwhelmed me, I realized I had made it to the bottom of the stairs. I had actually gone down the stairs without completely losing my balance and falling!
    However, the momentary feeling of euphoria vanished in the wake of growing dismay at how many other trips up and down the stairs I would have to make.
    Now, here comes the big question: Have I fallen down the stairs yet? Well… yes. It was only once, though- and nobody was in sight, thank goodness! However, I’ve started to get used to hurriedly rushing down the stairs between classes- I think. Of course, the ramp comes in handy sometimes, as well.
    Now all I have to deal with is how to get to my locker during the school day and being able to carry that humongous backpack all over school…
    Maybe I will  embarrass myself during high school. But at least I know it won’t be falling down the stairs. Hopefully.