Unleashing Your Kid’s Hidden Talents

Posted on February 2, 2015

I was in the final stages of writing my manuscript for The “Perfect” Parent, working with my editor, Joan Tapper, when we struck up a conversation about writing styles. Considering her experience, I asked how she would define my writing style. Being a new author had been quite a journey of self-discovery, and I was curious. She said, “I’d describe Roma’s voice as personal, reassuringly conversational, spiritual (some might say, “New Age), occasionally poetic, and calm.”

As I heard the word “poetic,” my heart raced, and my eyes teared up. You see, as a tween, I used to spend a good amount of time writing poetry. I would turn to poetry when I was happy, mad, or sad. Once, when I was trying to get some homework done, I got into a tiff with a fly that I ended up swatting. As I watched it take its last breaths, I even wrote a whole poem that I called “My dear friend, Fred.”

About two weeks later, my father brought me a clipping from our local newspaper and, lo! and behold, in the family section, I saw my name, picture, and poem published with the heading, “Winner of poetry contest: My dear friend, Fred.” A week later, I went to receive my winnings —50 dinars (about $100)—and those pictures were in the local newspaper as well.

My mom had found my poetry folder and had shown it to my father, who mailed it into a newspaper contest. My parents were thrilled, and they encouraged my hidden talent with great enthusiasm and pride. As for me, in my mind, I was now an award-winning poet, and there was no stopping me! I wrote regularly—short poems, long poems, sad poetry, and funny poetry. By the end of the year, I had written about a hundred poems. I had even won first and second place for at least ten of them! In my little hometown of Kuwait, I was quite the renowned poet!

One afternoon, when my dad was out of town, I was going through the mail and happened to notice an envelope addressed to me from The Writers’ Ring, a society of poets based in the UK. My mind was racing… Had they heard about me? Were they writing to invite me to participate in LONDON?? Golly, was L-O-N-D-O-N—my fave city—ready for me? “Very well, then! Here I am!” Anxiously, I opened the envelope, and this is part of what it said:

“The poem shows evidence of talent and much promise but it is very weak in construction and few rules of verse-writing have been observed. But your daughter has plenty of time to catch up with that. I suggest she work on her writing skills and resubmit her application to be part of our children’s society in two years.”

I had been rejected! How rude! I ran to my room with the letter hidden in my shirt, locked the door, and cried my eyes out. I read the letter again and again and cried harder every time until I fell asleep. That was the end of my poetry-writing career.

Two weeks later, at dinner, my mother asked my father, “Did we hear from that poetry company in London?” My father said, “No, I never heard back.” I knew exactly what they were talking about, but I never said a word.

After that, every so often, my parents would ask if I had written any more poems, and my reply was always the same: “I’m not into poetry, anymore.” As much as I enjoyed writing poetry, I gave it up because of the opinion of a single person working in a company that no longer even exists. What I carried around for years to come, however, was the emotion associated with that single incident. Why else would I get so teary-eyed when I heard the word “poetic” 30 years later?

Repressed memories are bound to show up at some point or another. I’m glad that my poetic inclination has resurfaced and that I have allowed myself to explore it once again. It gives me the same magic feeling I had as a tween.

Is there any such talent that was an active part of your child’s life and that has now been buried? Is there any activity that they thoroughly enjoyed that they have now given up? If so, dig a little and explore the reason why. Remember to be as kind as you can. Repressed memories carry heavy emotions, and as you unearth them, you might bear the brunt of them. It’s all for the greater good, though. If you love your children through their pain, it will help their music resurface.