A child's dream

English was never the hardest subject for me even though it was my second language. In fact, growing up, I never developed an accent. Everybody in my family has an accent and their jealousy erupts every time I speak. However, reading and writing poems was one of the most despised subjects for me. I remember listening to my fifth-grade teacher as she began to read poetry for the first time. I could barely speak English and know my teacher was teaching us a totally different language. What is the meaning of this? How could poetry be so confusing? I had the most difficult time trying to understand or even write poetry. One day, I was sitting in class listening to my teacher read one of her favorite poems (Shall I compare thee to a summer's day) when she closed the book and smiled. She turned towards the board and began to write our assignment. We were to write a poem describing our mother's love in any way we wanted. You could have imagined my face at the time. Shock! Students began to murmur while tears began to pour out of my eyes. I could not write anything let alone a poem. My teacher told me to "give a try" and "just be carefree." So, I took her advice and began to write random sentences. To my amazement, they began to flow and I could not recognize this ability in my heart. I wrote and I wrote and somehow it just kept making sense. Hesitant, I read my poem in front of the class and watched the expression on my teacher's face. The next words that came out of her mouth changed my view of poetry forever. "You have talent, my child," she said. From then on, poetry is the only means of survival for me guaranteed.