GENESIS
One week later
"You're doing really well, Gen. I'm so proud of you," Miss Melissa said, raising her hand for a high five. I slapped mine against hers, and she chuckled before handing me my papers.
I looked down at each of the scores I'd gotten. We had done something Melissa called a test—just to see how much I'd learned from her lessons.
In English, I scored eighty out of a hundred. And in math… a perfect hundred. I was so happy, I couldn't stop smiling—even when my cheeks started to ache.
Math had always come naturally to me. I loved it. Miss Melissa once told me I was a real genius with numbers—and then she explained what genius meant too. She was wonderful like that.
We didn't just do math and English. She also taught me spelling, reading, history, and even about my rights as a citizen. In my spelling test, I scored seventy out of a hundred. Sometimes, the letters get jumbled in my head, especially the alphabets. I often confuse e for i in certain words, and I still struggle with "ie" and "ei." But Miss Melissa never got mad. She always smiled and said,
"It takes time, Genesis. And you're learning fast."
That made my chest feel warm, like a little sun had lit up inside me.
Sometimes, when I didn't understand something, I would panic—afraid I was failing or that I'd be punished. But she would gently place her hand on mine and say,
"Mistakes are proof that you're trying."
And then we'd go over the lesson again—slowly, patiently, like we had all the time in the world.
She helped me read more books, even the ones with big, tricky words. At first, they danced on the page, refusing to stay still. But she taught me to follow each line with my finger. Now, I can read little stories all by myself. Even though I couldn't make a sound, she always followed along with me, correcting me gently when I got stuck.
My favorite story was about a girl who left everything behind to cross distant lands, all to uncover the truth about where she came from—and who she truly belonged to.
"Someday, you'll write your own story, Gen," Miss Melissa had said last week. "One where you're not just the girl in the story—you're the hero."
Hero.
I still wasn't sure if I could be that.
But when I thought about how far I'd come… maybe, just maybe, it wasn't impossible.
She taught me so much—about my country, the different states, how the government works, and what it means to be a citizen. Some of it was confusing, but she said it was to prepare me for high school. She explained it was a place with other students like me, where I'd take exams and get something called a certificate.
She also taught me about my body—how to care for it, my menstrual cycle, ovulation—so many words I'd never even heard before. But she explained everything gently. Carefully. Like she really wanted me to understand.
I would always be grateful for that.
"…So now that's done, there's one more thing we need to do," her voice pulled me from my thoughts. I looked up at her. She was still smiling—and it pleased me to see her that way.
"For the past two weeks, I've been teaching you sign language. This part won't be written. I'll say a sentence, and you'll sign it back to me," she said, nodding slowly.
I nodded with her.
"Do you understand?"
I nodded again, but she shook her head lightly. "From here on out, you sign to me."
I swallowed hard. I wanted to do well. I loved using my notebook to communicate, but it always took a little longer.
"Don't worry. You'll do great. Like I've said before, you're an exceptional learner. I know this isn't easy, but you've done so well."
I nodded once more.
"Good. Now let's start."
She said, "Where are you going?"
I hesitated. My hands trembled a little. I took a deep breath and lifted them.
First, I pointed at her—"You"—then curved my hand into a claw and made a small circle near my chest—"go."
I paused. That didn't feel quite right. I frowned and looked at her.
Miss Melissa smiled gently. "Try again. Think about the words in order."
I nodded and tried once more.
I pointed at her again, then brought my two fingers together like walking legs and pointed away from me—"Where go?" I wasn't sure if it was right, but I held the sign, hoping.
She clapped once. "That was good, Gen! Almost there. Now, remember how we sign 'where'?"
Oh! Right.
I raised my index finger and wagged it side to side—"Where?"—then made the walking legs motion again for "go."
Her smile widened. "Perfect."
My chest swelled with pride.
She gave me another sentence: "I am happy today."
This one, I remembered.
I pointed to myself—"I"—then brushed my chest in a circle with a flat hand—"happy." Then, I brought both hands down in front of me, palms up, and moved them in a small arc—"today."
I looked up at her quickly, nervous.
"Beautiful, Gen. Absolutely beautiful," she said, her eyes shining.
I signed thank you. (Flat hand from chin forward.)
She signed back: You're welcome.
We kept going for a while. Simple sentences like "I want food," or "My name is Genesis," or "I like books." Sometimes I got them right, sometimes I fumbled, but Miss Melissa was always patient, correcting gently, reminding me it was okay to be slow—as long as I kept trying.
By the end of the lesson, my fingers ached a little, but my heart felt light.
"You've come so far," she said softly as she packed up our papers. "Soon, you'll be able to have full conversations without writing. You'll have your voice, Gen. Just in a different form."
I didn't know what to say, so I just signed:
"Thank you."
"Teacher."
She looked like she might cry.
I wondered if one day, I could say I love you in sign.
Maybe I'll learn that next week.