"Another bad day at school?" my father asked.
"How could you tell? I didn't shut the door heavily or anything," I replied. Over the past two months I had either done this or thrown my backpack across the room ever time I came home from school. Papa thinks it has something to do with moving to a new house.
"I know this move has been hard on you," Papa said, "However, with a lot of hard work and some time, you will make new friends."
"You don't know how hard it is. My baseball team would have won the championship. They won't even give me a chance to pitch here. All I get to play is right field, and that's the worst!"
Papa turned toward me. "Things will get better I promise you. Do you know why you were named David Lorenzo?"
"Yes, your name is David and grandfather's name is Lorenzo."
"Good, and what makes your grandfather so important?"
"He was the first in the family to come to this country and all that," I answered.
"That is only partly correct. Your grandfather was a very great man. In Mexico, he had been a teacher. When he came to America he could only get low-paid labor jobs because he didn't speak the language. It took him two years before he spoke English well enough to be allowed to teach here, but he did it. He never complained because he knew change could be difficult. Did he ever tell you that?" my father asked.
I looked down at my feet, ashamed at my behavior. "No. That must have been hard," I said sheepishly.
"Your grandfather taught me that if you let people see your talent, they will accept you for who you are. I want you to always remember what my father taught me, even if it takes a few years for people to see who you are," said Papa.
All I could say was, "Okay." Then I asked, "What should I do now?"
Laughing, Papa said, "How about you pitch a few to me? You need some work. "
