When I was seven, I moved from Ensenada, Baja California, to Pasco, Washington. 

I spoke no English. 

I had no friends. 

Before I enrolled in my first American school, I practiced my English with my mother. My favorite part was singing the ABCs, especially when I had to say L-M-N-O-P. The sound the letters made when touching the roof of my mouth still manages to produce a smile—even today. 

Unfortunately, no amount of studying could prepare me for the ridicule of mispronouncing ‘hamburger’ in the lunch line. 

Everyone laughed. Even the lunch lady. 

So I became obsessed with the English language. I read. Everything. I wrote whenever I could. I vowed to no one other than myself that I would learn English just as good, if not better than native speakers.

Learning English was a stepping stone; it was the beginning of a long-lasting romance. A love affair with learning. 

I learned more than just a language. I walked away with much more. I walked away with confidence, a belief in myself, and a love for words.

To all my classmates who laughed at me, muchas gracias.