by Cherry Zhi, Age 15
One of my fondest childhood memories is writing a short story in grade two. I wrote about going to an amusement park. As the years have gone by, I have forgotten the details. However, I do remember how overjoyed I was when my teacher gave me an A+ and told me one day she would love to pick up my book from the bookstore. Little did she know the power of those words. It sent me into a spiral of daydreams about becoming an author and writing the next great classic.
But as the years went by, my childhood dream became more and more distant. I no longer got A’s on my writings. Little by little, I didn’t know how to write anymore. I lost confidence and I abandoned any dreams of becoming a writer. But deep down, I loved to write. When there was something going on at home or if there was something that bothered me, I would pull out an old notebook and scrawl away my thoughts. It was empowering and soothing at the same time to just let it all out. The end result wasn’t always pretty, but I mostly enjoyed the process.
This year, I moved to a new school and, surprisingly, my new teachers rekindled my childhood dream. It all started when one teacher told me that my essay was one of the best she had read that day. I was shocked and overjoyed. Then, another teacher told me I had a true gift in writing. Little by little, my confidence built up again. Now, I am determined to keep writing because I truly enjoy it. I don’t expect to become a renowned author. I just want to do something I love.