“The Greatness of Literature” To be honest, I can’t recall ever being excited about having to write an essay on epic poetry, “Julius Caesar” or “The Odyssey”. I also don’t remember wanting to read “Romeo and Juliet”, “The Scarlet Letter”, or “The Canterbury Tales.” I hated literature because I could only think of it as boring and a complete waste of my time. One day I was having a conversation with my dad about how unimportant I thought reading or writing were and he said something that made me change my mind. His exact words were: “you think they’re boring because you only go back to the bad experiences you’ve had with them, but think harder and try to remember all the good experiences as well.” That was the first time I realized that literature has had a great impact on me and that it is something I must be thankful for.
Growing up I did not have a stable relationship with my mother and I blame that on my inability to communicate feelings. I was always scared to say what I truly felt or thought because I did not want to hurt her; I thought I would be disappointing her if I didn’t feel about things the same way as she did. Even though I got mad at her almost every day, I obviously still loved her and I wanted her to know, so I had to find a way to tell her. Since talking to her in person wasn’t really an option, I figured writing a letter would be easier, so one day I sat down with a blank sheet of paper and a pen in hand and I thought: “this will be the day I will tell my mom how much she means to me”. A couple of hours flew by and I still hadn’t written anything down. I realized that writing such an important letter was actually very difficult if you don’t feel comfortable talking about yourself or expressing emotions. After giving it some thought, I remembered how much I enjoyed writing short stories in class, especially stories where I could choose the subject and create my own characters, and I said to myself: “Maybe I could write a story about a young girl who is trying to let her mom know that she looks up to her and admires her for everything she does and how strong she is”. Again, I sat down with the same sheet of paper and pen that I had earlier and started writing. About 45 minutes later, I was done with my short story and I was ready to give it to my mom so she could read it. I couldn’t have been more excited to see what her reaction would be when she read those three words at the end of the story. I walked over to her room, gave her the paper and asked her to read it. I noticed she was surprised and confused at first, but she slowly started realizing what it was all about. She was smiling from ear to ear and when she got closer to the end of the story I could see her eyes filling up with tears and I knew she was going to cry; I was hoping they would be tears of joy. She took a deep breath and read the last three words out loud: “I love you”, then put the paper down and gave me one of those nice, warm hugs that only moms know how to give. While she was hugging me she said she loved me too and that she was very grateful to have a daughter like me. At that moment, I understood all the good things that writing could bring to my life. Now, every time I feel stressed, angry, upset, or annoyed, I turn to writing because nothing feels better than letting some steam out and, to me, that is the best way to do it.
Last year I was invited to a program called National Student Leadership Conference (NSLC) and I was accepted into their Medicine and Health Care Program in George Washington University. This was a huge deal because only four people from my country were invited to participate, so I was extremely excited and I couldn’t believe it was happening to me. After anxiously waiting for exactly three months, it was finally July 10th and I was on my way to Washington with my mother who would stay with me the first day and then leave me at the dorms. A day went by and it was time to say goodbye to my mom and move in with a random person whose name I couldn’t even pronounce. My mom dropped me off at the university and some people helped me out with my suitcase and showed me to what, for the next 10 days, would be “my house.” I walked in the dorm room and I was already feeling homesick and just wanted to go back to Panama. The thought of not knowing anyone was terrifying. A few minutes later, my roommate came in and introduced herself. Her name was Ash’shanae Cohen and she was 17 years old. I was 18 at the moment so the age difference wasn’t bad at all and, because she was also there for the Medicine and Health Care program, I figured we would have some things in common. We talked to each other about ourselves and our interests. Our conversation was going fine and I was excited to see that we would get along. We talked for about 15 minutes, then she stood up and said: “I’ll be back later” and after that, I hardly ever saw her. For the first two days I felt I didn’t really have anyone to talk to about everything that was going on and how much I loved some of the things we had to do or how much I hated waking up at 6 a.m. every day. I was frustrated and my frustration was starting to get in the way of me making the most out of this experience. At the end of the third day, when I was getting ready to go to bed, I decided I needed to make some changes. I had to change my attitude and try to enjoy the program as much as I could, but I didn’t know how to make myself feel better. That’s when I saw a sheet of paper and a pencil next to my bed and I decided that I would write something every night for the rest of the days that I would be there. I started a journal and it instantly made me happy. I wrote about everything that happened each day. I would say it was what I looked forward to the most. My roommate didn’t seem to understand why I enjoyed writing so much and I didn’t bother to explain because, no matter how hard I try, there never are enough words to say how writing makes me feel. Once again, writing helped me through some tough times and that is why I enjoy it as much as I do.
Although I like to write, I cannot say I feel the same way about reading. A few years back, all that went through my mind when I saw someone reading a book in their spare time was: “How do they do it? How can they not think this is boring? Do people really do this for fun?” If you asked me I would say it makes no sense. The only reason I ever read any books is because I was forced to do so and it was for a grade, but this is not something I enjoyed doing. I have never liked reading, not only because I have the attention span of a goldfish and it is extremely hard for me to concentrate on anything for more than a certain amount of time, but also because I love sports and I would much rather be playing soccer or riding horses than staying at home forcing myself to at least read 10 pages. However, I have to admit that I was fascinated by two of the books I had to read in high school and those are the only ones that have been able to keep me entertained from the first page to the last. I never thought there would be a day when I would prefer to read a book than spend some time with my friends or practice soccer, but these books proved me wrong. After I began reading each one of them, they became an addiction. I was always looking forward to turning the page and finding out what would happen next. These are: “Sangre de Campeón” and “Roberto por el buen camino.” What both of them have in common is their theme or message. They encourage you to keep fighting and to keep your head up when you are going through rough times. What caught my attention the most was the fact that the main characters in these books were always trying to look at the bright side of things, even when staying positive seemed impossible to do. This made me feel inspired and motivated me to make some changes in my attitude. I am thankful to my Spanish teacher for having given me both of these books. They opened my eyes to the greatness of literature and it is thanks to them that I have come to realize that life is like a very long bicycle race where, no matter the obstacles, you must always keep pedaling. You may trip and fall, but you shall never stop. Even though I still would not say that reading is something I find pleasurable, I now understand why some people do.
When it comes to describing myself, reader is a word I would not use and I am not sure I could even be considered a writer yet. My priorities have always been my extracurricular activities and schoolwork, which is why I only read when I have to. However, this is something I would like to change. I know that reading and writing give you more knowledge on many subjects and help you improve your vocabulary and grammar. I would like to find books about some things I know I would be interested in and then make some time to read them because I am sure that with time, this will also help me concentrate better and read faster. Perhaps it will give me more ideas on what to write about and I might, eventually, be able to write my own books. If I ever do write something big, I hope it touches many people’s lives as much as my two favorite books touched mine. It took me a couple of years, but I finally understand why literature can be fascinating.