The Art of My Name
Hello—my name is Maya, and I love to draw the shapes letters make when they dance.
Mrs. Smith (the teacher) smiled and said, "Today we will make the Art of Our Names," bringing out a box of bright name cards.
Maya wondered what her name meant, and if the letters knew any stories to tell.
Mrs. Smith asked each child to decorate their name-card with colors, symbols, or family stories.
Maya painted a bright yellow star on the M, a wave on the a, and a tiny kite on the y.
Suddenly, a playful gust of wind burst through the open window and lifted the name-cards like paper butterflies.
A card landed on the windowsill and slid outside toward the large school garden.
One card flew into the coat cubby and peeked out from under a row of bright scarves.
Another card sailed across the playground and landed on a laughing friend's bicycle basket.
A cheeky squirrel grabbed a card and darted up the old oak, chittering like a tiny messenger.
Maya and Amir chased the scattered art through colorful corners of the school, finding cards in unexpected places.
In the library, a card rested atop a book of poems written in many languages, the letters looking like tiny friends.
Under the art table, a card had become a paper boat that bobbed on a shallow puddle of paint.
Each card seemed to hum with a small story — a family song, a place, a secret recipe, a grandfather's laugh.
But when the crowd of cards came together on the steps, Maya noticed one card was missing — her own.
Her heart fluttered like a loose letter; losing her name felt as if a piece of her story had wandered away.
Then Amir found a tiny trail of painted dots that led away from the steps into the school garden.
They followed the dots past the swing set, under a rainbow of hanging ribbons, and toward a low brick wall covered in murals.
Behind the wall they discovered a secret mural made of letters — each namepiece painted by a child formed a part of a huge, beating heart.
And there, tucked into the mural's center, was Maya's name — not lost, but woven into everyone's art like a hidden stitch.
Mrs. Smith stepped forward and said, "Each name is a story; together they make us whole," and the children cheered.
Maya painted one final bright kite onto the mural to mark her place and felt braver than she had before.
She learned that names carry stories, belonging, and the power to connect people like threads in a colorful cloth.
From that day, whenever Maya wrote her name, she remembered the mural, the chase, and the many small stories tucked into each letter.
When you open this book, you can make your own name-art — draw, ask your family, and listen for the small stories hiding in the letters.
Back Page: The Art of My Name is a map to friendship, family, and all the ways letters can sparkle — keep exploring.
