In this, I believe
This I Believe The fat old lady in the third row yawned loudly, certain that I was going to bore. I took a deep breath and looked in front of me, assessing the sheer beauty of the crowd and of the situation I was in. It was the fifth month of my Study abroad in Italy, studying in a school and city where anyone barely spoke English. I was facing a hall of students and officials from over 90 schools of the country, about to present one of the last acts of the National Summit. For weeks I tried convincing my class to enact a play with me, but English scared the Italians, and Shakespearean English, more so. When I walked into the President’s office to ask if I could perform alone, he laughed and told me in his heavily gesticulated Italian, that no one’s going to help me, but yes, I could. I smiled. I was given one of the last slots, not because they expected it to be great, but because they expected most people to have left. But they hadn’t, and I was not going to disappoint. ...