First day. First class. First nerves. First questions. How early is too early to get to class? Fifteen? Twenty? Thirty minutes? Lista to camp out in front of the classroom. Mami always said, "Nunca llegues tarde al escuela." I'll figure it out. The professor must’ve seen through my “perfect student” mask. Can I ask a question about the first assignment? I feel like I should know what “subvert” means. I’ll figure it out. Financial Aid called. Turns out a low-income family of five has the same buying power as the Clintons. “You now owe $23,000.” I’ll figure it out. Failed the first assignment. I figured wrong. Or maybe it was the dark cloud of a bill I have no method of paying that made writing the equivalent to solving integrals in calculus. Somehow, I have to figure it out. First semester. First month. First panic attack. First to go.