I’ve always known my limits within my native language. When I was little, I was in all senses illiterate. I knew how to interpret and speak it, but I couldn’t read or write. My parents signed me up for Chinese classes multiple times for short periods in order to study Chinese, but I’ve found those classes never really worked. I don’t know if it was because of my lack of interest, or just some sort of inability to learn Chinese. At a certain point I was just so bored in class that I wished my mom had never signed me up. 

Nevertheless I persisted. During my last period of Chinese classes, there was a contest being held by the school: perform anything related to Chinese. This reminded me of a time when I was younger, still living in China. I can’t remember who or when, but one experience always stuck with me. I spent a long time standing in front of someone in bed reciting a poem that was assigned to me. I knew that my fluency in Chinese was a strength, but up until now I didn't know how to use it. I immediately signed up. This was my first time participating in a competition of this sort. I was scared, down to my core. How could I face an entire audience who all knew Chinese, probably even better than I did? But every time I thought of giving up, that one time of me reciting in front of someone kept coming up. I was filled with determination. After hours of practice, I knew the poem like the back of my hand. I could even use my emotions to convey a stronger message. I knew what the poem meant. I knew I could recite it. I could picture the imagery almost as if I was there. The day came for me to show what I was made of. Waiting in the stand had me anxious. I could feel myself heat up and burn. They called names and I was so worried I was going to get skipped, or I would miss my name. But of course that wasn’t what happened. As soon as they called my name, I headed down to the stage. I don’t know if it was just me, but the stage was enormous. Looking down at the stage from the stands was like looking down a building at people and cars who were just ants. 

I began my recitation. I was anxious. But I shut off my brain and let my subconscious take over. I recited perfectly. After the recitation I was handed an envelope. I look inside to see a crisp 20 dollars with a letter of congratulations. Up until now I didn't even know there was a monetary reward. I was ecstatic, I could just leap into the moon. I showed my dad in the car and he was proud, even more than I was. The message of this story is to never give up, never think you are not enough, never back down from a chance.