A Writer's Beginnings

On a rainy first-grade morning, I had a doctor's appointment and I got to skip the first few hours of the school day. I felt a bit naughty as it was my first time missing school for any reason. Maybe, I thought, I will arrive after writing time and in time for recess. I bounced into the classroom, pigtails swinging, only to realize that my teacher was passing out the writing paper. I sighed and took my seat. The writing paper we used was blank on top and lined on the bottom. They were the really big lines marked with dotted lines in the middle meant for handwriting practice. There were probably four lines in total on the page, leaving room for a picture in the blank space. Just looking at the page made me nauseous. I wrote the letters as slowly and arduously as possible, so as not to have to complete a second page.

One third-grade Tuesday, my teacher asked my class to lean into an important moment and write about it. I chose to describe a past injury in great detail. My teacher asked me to read my work to the whole class. I beamed with pride. After having done so well, I was scared of underperforming. I wrote the same story for my first writing assignment in fourth grade, hoping to impress my new teacher. 

On a twelfth-grade afternoon, my writing teacher called me into his classroom. “Have you checked the website yet?” Mr. Kline asked. I shook my head, my eyebrows scrunching together. I followed him to his computer. It took me several seconds to recognize the National Art and Writing Awards website. With my heart in my throat, I searched for my name. I stopped breathing when I saw the results: My work had won two honorable mentions and a gold award in the regional competition. Mr. Kline rocked back and forth on his heels with a grin on his face. I could only grin back.