Okay, I have to start typing something. My story is due in an hour and I have no idea on how to start it. I hear the typing of Miguel’s keyboard, Carlos’s constant throat-clearing, and a bird for some reason. I look outside the classroom window. The sky is heavy with clouds. What's a bird doing out in this weather? The branches bend as if pulled down by invisible strings. Still, the bird is out on a limb—no, literally!—singing with his surprisingly loud voice. If I were him, I would be quieter, as to not draw attention to myself. I mean, his feathers are a dull-brown color, his beak doesn't look like anything, and he can't even come up with his own tune. If he were a human being, he would probably go to jail for plagiarism. Yet, he sings at the top of his tiny lungs, which are probably the size of a corn kernel when full of air. How can he be so loud? I try to look away from the window, but my gaze keeps coming back. I will be in so much trouble when the teacher collects the homework and reads all this nonsense! My thoughts wander. What makes this bird special is that he's not. You cannot find a plainer, less interesting, more unattractive bird than that. But boy, he can sing, and he knows what he's capable of. He invests all his heart in it, despite of what others may say. Something just clicked. I know what my essay will be about. I deleted my paper and start a new one. I typed nonstop for a half hour and turned it in. I hope I get an A on my story about finishing my homework an hour before it’s due!