I was in 7th grade when my art teacher presented all the students with an 8×8-inch copper plate. He explained to us that as soon as we pressed into the plate the lines would be permanent, so we were to give thought to what we wanted to create before starting. Every student was provided the same tools and resources, my relief shaped into a butterfly, and was chosen for exhibition at the state capitol.

I was thrilled and ran home after school to give the good news to my parents who I knew would be steadfast in support of attending the debut. As I walked home, I could hear the shouting from two houses down, my parents were fighting again. As I neared, my dad stumbled down the stairs in drunken tears as my mom was vehemently wailing in the dark house. The power had been shut again, I decided it was best to go straight to my bedroom and wait to share the news.

It took a few days for the fighting to stop and electricity to return, at which point I shared my news and observed a hopeful glimmer in my parent’s eyes. I was certain that like the little copper plate, with the proper tools and resources I could go on to create a better life for all of us.