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Abdulatif
High School Student
Tashkent, Uzbekistan
My name is Abdulatif. I was born on September 19, 2009, in Tashkent, Uzbekistan.
At the age of 9, I became more serious in learning, which led to me becoming a member of one of the best schools in Uzbekistan, which entered the list of global schools - the Presidential School in Tashkent. I know that this is only the beginning of my journey. Before joining the school, I wrote poems and stories in two languages. However, with the help of foreign teachers in my school, I learned English well and began writing poems and stories in English as well.
Overall, my interest and passion for writing poems and stories came from my grandparent, who wrote four books and motivated me to continue his work.
When I was 8, I became a member of my school’s poetry team. One of my poems was published in a book, making me the youngest poet in my school and earning me a certificate. Even if poetry may not be respected among young people today, it still remains as one of the most important hobbies in my life.
Except writing, I am interested in table tennis and hope to become a professional player. Over the years, I have achieved several successes, including trophies, certificates, and cash prizes, by participating in both school and competitions held outdoors.
In the future, I want to continue working hard, I'm not going to stop when hard work is paying off. My aim is to develop my writing skills and continue to achieve success in both literature and sports.
The Chick That Wanted to Fly
Jan 31, 2025 1 month agoThe mother hen sat for many days over her eggs, warming them with her feathers. Soon, her little chicks would hatch and enter the world. She moved her head and clucked softly, "Cluck, cluck!" The big day at last arrived. One at a time, little chicks poked out of their shells. There were yellow chicks, brown chicks, and white chicks. The new chicks struggled to stand, but their little legs could not yet stand, and over and over, they tumbled over again and again. Yet, they chirped with joy, chatting with their mother, it seemed. There were older chicks that had poked out a little early, and they were hopping about, flapping little wings and pecking at the ground. Watching over her chicks, the mother hen saw that one of them was not at all like the others. This chick had lovely brown feathers, with black and white markings on its wings. But that wasn't all—it kept flapping its little wings, wanting to fly. Even when it lay down, it did not sleep; it lay with its feathers puffed out, staring at the sky, its little feet in the air. The mother hen worried about this one. "Why are you lying in that position? Chickens don't sleep in that position!" she inquired. "Oh, Mother, I enjoy seeing the sky. I can see the stars and I long to fly up and touch them," exclaimed the little chick, its eyes full of wonder. "But we are chickens! Chickens don't fly in the sky—we inhabit the ground. You must be happy with that." "But why have we wings, then?" questioned the little chick. "Wings help in many other ways," exclaimed the mother hen. "A lion has strong paws, and an elephant has a big trunk, and we have wings to protect ourselves. Now, sleep!" But no matter what she told him, the little chick continued dreaming about flying. He practiced daily, flapping his wings with all his might. Initially, he couldn't even lift himself off the ground at all. But one day, he could manage to climb onto the fence surrounding the backyard. After a couple of days, he could fly even higher. Every single day, he continued practicing, becoming a little better and a little better. One morning, when the mother hen saw him, she grew irritated. "Stop at once!" she exclaimed. "We're not eagles, chickens. In case you fly too high, you can fall and hurt yourself. Or worse, a hawk will pounce and grab you!" But the little chick disregarded her. He continued practicing. The old rooster noticed him and invited him over. "Come, I have a lesson to impart," exclaimed the rooster. "A long, long time ago, a chick such as yourself lived. He too desired to fly. In spite of all our warnings, he did not pay any heed. He even convinced other chicks to fly with him. One at a time, one at a time, they took off in the sky. But when they flew too high, the hawks spotted them. All of them became prey for the big birds." The little chick shuddered at the mere thought of it. "You are smart and kind," whispered the rooster softly. "But do you actually desire for this to occur again?" "No… never," whispered the chick softly. "Good," nodded the rooster. "So, then, be a good chicken. To become happy, we don't have to fly. Our family lived in such a manner, and we're fine." The other chickens, too, shared their opinions: Uncle: "A partridge can't become a nightingale. Live on the ground." Cousin: "If you fly, then you will only cause yourself trouble." Aunt: "Being simple and secure is best, my sweetie." Older sister: "Life won't change, whether you fly or not. Look out for yourself." The little chick desired to become a good son and obey his family, and therefore, he ceased attempting to fly. Years have gone by. He grew older, became a dad, and had chicks of his own. Perhaps, if he continued practicing, he could have flown and seen the whole world high in the sky. But now, that dream no longer existed. Even if he desired, he was too old to fly. Instead, he instructed his chicks in the same lesson that he'd discovered: "Chickens don't fly." After all, how can a chick desire to fly if it has never experienced the feeling of being above the clouds?
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