On the first day of my second grade, my father asked me if I could read well. "Yes, I can," I said. So he gave me a hand-painted map with street names and d on how to walk to school-the school was miles away, and I had n walked to school by myself.
He handed me the map with my lunch box and jacket and s said to me, "Everything you need to know is written on the map, so you should just read the map."
I felt afraid, but he just k me goodbye. I didn't know how long it took me to get there, or how many fearful moments I had, but I did remember f how I felt when I saw my school. I was happy and finally l. I was proud that I had made it! I jumped up and down. I wished I could tell him right then that I had done it.
When I got home, I didn't see my father. I couldn't w for him to come back and tell him what had happened. But when he came back, he didn't ask me anything.
Years later, I finally got the c to ask him why he did that and why he didn't care about what had happened since I was so young then. He said, "I didn't have to ask you, I knew. I followed you the whole way, but far e so that you could not see me. I saw you jump up and down at the last street corner. I felt what you felt." At the moment, I understood everything. Then I couldn't help c.
Father used his special way to teach me how to be independent, and solve problems on my own.
