I arrive at the school, and when I park the bike, I realize how hard I’ve been gripping the handlebars. Frustrated with myself, I tug off my helmet and scrub a hand through my hair as I engage the kickstand.

Get it together, Murray. You play hockey professionally in front of thousands of people all the time. I think you can handle a few hundred students who probably aren’t paying attention to anything you say anyway.

The last point in particular makes it easy to get over myself. This is nothing compared to what I do almost every night, and even if I totally bomb, it’s not like it’s going to be the end of the world. Still, I stand by my bike and run through the entire speech one more time just to make sure I really have it down and head for the school.

I can’t remember the last time I set foot in a high school, but as soon as I step through the doors, I feel like I’ve walked through a portal into a past time in my life. Even though I’m in a different country from where I grew up, suddenly I feel like I’m right back in school myself. I was always so focused on hockey that I missed out on a lot of the other school stuff, so it’s hard not to feel a little wistful as I walk through the main hall toward the office.

“Good afternoon.” A secretary greets me without looking away from her computer when I step inside to check in. But when she glances over and sees me, she jumps in her seat a little and pushes away from her keyboard. “Oh, Mr. Murray. Welcome to Bear River High.”

“Thanks,” I say, clearing my throat.

She clearly recognizes me, which is both flattering and nerve-wracking. If the school staff knows who I am, the students definitely will too, which means higher expectations.

“Go ahead and sign in on the form there for me, and I’ll get you a visitor’s badge,” she tells me, pointing at a piece of paper on a clipboard on the counter in front of me. I pick up the pen beside it and scribble my name and signature on it, and by the time I’m done, she’s holding a badge out for me. It’s nothing special, just something I can wear to let other staff know I’m supposed to be here.

“All done?” the secretary asks as she leans over the counter to check my work. I nod and slip the badge over my head. “Great. Follow me. Principal Cyprus wants to meet you.”

“Yeah, sure.”