Reflective Essay: The Chicago Theatre

“Chicago,” I said, as we drove past the Chicago Theatre. I read every word that my eyes could catch as we sped down the attractive streets of downtown Chicago. I was not sure where my driver was taking me, but I knew that I did not want to be in the car with this mean old woman anymore. She was my new caseworker, Ms. Jordan, and she was in charge of finding me a family. My old caseworker was Ms. Kelly, she was nice and she always made me feel loved. Ms. Kelly taught me how to read when I was four years old, and she bought me new books all the time ever since I knew her. Ms. Jordan seemed to be angry all of the time for no apparent reason. I had no hopes of being her target, so I tucked myself in the corner of the window seat and began to …show more content…
I wasn’t in any way interested in getting up in front a class full of critics, staring at me as I cited something as sweet as a poem. I was completely afraid that they would laugh or think I was corny. Reluctantly I joined the class and to my surprise it was my favorite class of all. I started off sitting in the back of the class and I would just spend the period observing the other students. One day, my teacher gave us an assignment that consisted of writing a play script. Whoever wrote the best script would have the chance for college actors to act it out. After turning in the assignment, I asked my teacher not to choose mine. My teacher chose my script anyway, and I couldn’t understand why she did that. Though I enjoyed writing, I didn’t want any of my classmates to hear my work. I decided against going to school the day of the performance because my nerves got the best of me. The next day I arrived to class and everyone gave me a round of applause when I walked into the room. The credit and acknowledgment from my peers made me feel good, for it let me know that they really liked it. Hearing how they were both moved and inspired by my play made me feel as though my writing had a purpose. I felt that maybe I should not be afraid of what others think because they just might like it. That day changed my life because I was no longer afraid to show people any of my talents. I was not worried about the fear of critique. I knew that this did not mean everyone would like my writing, but it was a start. After being so quiet and sheepish for so long, I finally started to become more comfortable with my reading and writing. I started to be this person who wanted to be seen and heard. I began to love reading my work in front of the class. I would ask the teacher to hang my work on the wall to show off to my classmates. I entered contests for writing and won them