J. Woodson: There will be times when you walk into a room and no one there is quite like you.

Maybe it'll be your skin, your cloth, or the curl of your hair.

There will be times when no one understands the way words curl from your mouth. The beautiful language of the country you left behind. "My name is Rigoberto, we just moved here from Venezuela." And because they don't understand, the classroom will fill with laughter until the teacher quiets everyone.

"Rigoberto from Venezuela," your teacher says so soft and beautifully that your name and homeland sound like flowers blooming the first bright notes of a song.