One of the first serious attempts I made to write a novel was

Randa Abdel-Fattah, voice of stories and chronicler of identity, once remembered with reverence: “One of the first serious attempts I made to write a novel was when I was in Grade 6 and I had read ‘Matilda.’ I wrote my own version and my teacher had it bound and permitted me to read it to the class—cementing my love of reading, writing, and Roald Dahl!” In this memory lies the origin of a calling, the sacred moment when a child first discovered the magic of words, encouraged not by accident, but by the vision of a teacher who recognized the flame within her.

O listener, consider the power of this story. A child reads ‘Matilda’, a tale of a girl whose love of books transforms her world, and from that spark she dares to create her own version. This is no small act. To imitate is the beginning of creation, for every artist first learns by echoing the masters. Yet in this echo, the child found her own voice, the first steps on the path toward becoming a writer. And the teacher, seeing the treasure of this effort, did not dismiss it, but exalted it—binding the story, giving it form, and granting it an audience. That moment, small to some, became monumental to her destiny.

Here we are shown the sacred truth of encouragement. Had the teacher ignored the child’s work, the story may have faded into a forgotten exercise. But instead, by binding it, by giving her the honor of reading before her peers, the teacher proclaimed: “Your words matter. Your imagination has weight. Your voice is worth hearing.” And with that affirmation, a lifelong love of reading and writing was sealed. Thus, we see that sometimes the course of a life is changed not by grand events, but by the gentle recognition of a child’s gift.

History has many such examples. Recall how young Thomas Edison’s own schoolteacher dismissed him as slow, but his mother, refusing to accept such judgment, nurtured him at home. Her belief in him fueled his curiosity, and from that encouragement arose inventions that changed the world. Or think of Maya Angelou, who found her voice after years of silence when a teacher encouraged her to speak through poetry and literature. In each story, the affirmation of a guide turned potential into greatness. So it was with Abdel-Fattah, whose teacher gave her the courage to dream with ink and paper.

But there is another wisdom here: the power of books to inspire creation. Roald Dahl’s Matilda was more than entertainment; it was a seed. In the story of a girl who defied neglect through knowledge, Abdel-Fattah saw herself, and more importantly, saw possibility. This is the eternal power of literature: one book can ignite a thousand others, one story can awaken countless storytellers. To read deeply is to converse with the great minds of the past, and to write is to join that conversation.

The lesson, then, is twofold. First, let every teacher, parent, or mentor remember: your smallest act of encouragement may change the course of a child’s life. To take a work seriously, to honor it with respect, is to whisper to a young heart, “You can.” And second, let every reader remember that books are not merely for consumption, but for creation. What you read can become what you write, and in this cycle, the torch of imagination is passed from generation to generation.

Therefore, children of tomorrow, treasure your books, for they are seeds. Treasure your teachers, for they are gardeners. And treasure your own voice, for it too has the power to grow into a mighty tree of stories. Do not despise the small beginnings of imitation, for even the greatest authors once traced the lines of others before they drew their own. Let encouragement fuel you, let reading inspire you, and let writing be your answer to the voices that came before.

For in the end, Randa Abdel-Fattah’s memory reminds us of this eternal truth: the journey of creation begins with inspiration, grows through encouragement, and blossoms into lifelong love. From a single teacher’s act, from a single book, a destiny was written. And so it may be with you.