A driver and passenger got in their van, buckled up, and put the keys into the ignition. The driver flipped on the headlights and was getting ready to pull out of the parking spot when suddenly a figure jumped out of the darkness and landed on their window screaming. As the silhouette pulled back, the driver, still wide-eyed and jumpy because of what had just happened, slowly started his pre-driving routine again. But unbeknownst to the driver, the young boy who had done this was not only more afraid and ashamed than the driver but had a longer journey ahead as well.

Before this moment, I hated to be embarrassed. Every little thing I did, my mind told me the laughter people threw at me was an insult. However, when I was walking home with my dad and brother one night, I was told my mother was going to pick us up. So seeing a van exactly the same color and model as my mother’s, I decided to scare her. Walking slowly up to the driver door, I suddenly jumped up and yelled nonsense at the window, before noticing that the person I was looking at was not my mother. Quickly backing up, I was enveloped into the waves of laughter created by my family.

But something this time had changed, I was not angry or mad at the fact that I was being laughed at, but instead enjoyed and took part in the humiliation of myself. Somehow this large mistake differs from the other smaller occurrences of the past; however, there still was a limit to my tolerance of the laughter I faced. By the time we were home from the van incident, the feeling that people were laughing at me returned. I was back to where I had started but it was slightly less intense. And then came the second van.

Waiting after school for our van to come, I and other Math League members had nothing to do, so naturally, they started to play on their phones. But I was paying attention, looking, scanning, and searching the horizon to see if the van had arrived. Then I saw it, a grey vehicle pulling into the school parking lot. Gathering my peers, we all walked out and raced to see who would get to sit in the back seat. It was not me who got in first, nor was it me who was told “This is not your van” by the woman driving this imposter of a van. As the swarm of us Math League kids walked away the laughter followed.

Unprotected by family, the witnesses of the last time, I was ridiculed constantly for the rest of the day. The mention of cars, vans, or vehicles, everyone would instantly start laughing. This time, however, something else was different, I laughed at every joke and none of it bothered me. I now understand these mistakes occur and to survive I must just laugh it off. Now every small thing I do and mistake I make, I will chuckle, laugh, and even giggle all of it off. But with everything I have learned, I know, one day a third van will show, so do be careful when a kid’s van identity issue is exposed.