Jordan Scott: ... that shines from my open mouth. All they hear is how I don't talk like them. All they see is how strange my face looks and that I can't hide how scared I am. My mouth isn't working. It's full with words of the morning.

Mornings are always hard, but this one's especially tough. I'm more stuck than ever. My teacher says we all have to talk about our favorite place in the world. Today is my turn, but my mouth just isn't working and I want to go home.

My dad picks me up from school. "It's just a bad speech day," he says. "Well, let's go somewhere quiet." My dad takes me to the river. We walk along the shore, looking for colorful rocks and water bugs. It feels good to be quiet and alone with my dad, but I can't stop thinking about my bad speech day. All those eyes watching my lips twist and twirl. All those mouths, giggling and laughing. I feel a storm in my belly. My eyes fill with rain. My dad sees I am sad and pulls me close. He points to the river and says, "See how that water moves? That's how you speak." I look at the water, bubbling, churning, whirling, and crashing. My dad says I talk like a river.

This is what I like to remember to help stop myself from crying. I talk like a river. Or if I'm not wanting to speak at all, I talk like a river. When the words around me are hard to say, I think of the proud river bubbling, churning, whirling, and crashing. And I also...