Life is full of ups and downs. You must understand that you will sometimes fail at things, and it is okay when that happens. Almost all of our lives, we have been taught that failure is really bad, and when we fail, we must drown (沉浸) ourselves in sorrow. This is an entirely wrong approach.

From a kid to an adult, you will fail at many things in life but that will only tell you about yourself. You will learn about your true capabilities, what you are good at, and what you are bad at. We must learn to accept the process rather than run from it. Only then will we be able to achieve our goals in life.

Let me tell you something about myself and how I faced failures in life. In my early years a school, I had trouble with some subjects. I used to get really bad grades. Sometimes, I would get an F, which would make me really scared. I used to think: What will I show my parents? So what I used to do was to cover those grades up. I would turn the F into a B just to please my parents. The short version is that it didn’t work out, and eventually, I was caught doing that. I learned a lot after that. I knew that I had to accept that failure and learn from it, and something good actually came from it. I started doing better with my grades. That F turned into a B naturally, and that B turned into an A.

Whenever you face a failure, never think that you are never going to recover from this. You must think of ways to better yourself. Did you know that it took Thomas Edison 10,000 attempts to perfect the light bulb? Bill Gates failed many times; even his first company was a complete failure. These prove that we must learn from our failures, not run from them!

When I was only 3 years old, my mother taught me to memorize and recite poems. She was my first teacher of the arts, and my father was the first to appreciate my performance. Even at that young age, I had a simple understanding of how art and culture affect us as human beings and how we can connect to each other through the arts, which shapes my life to this day.

When I was growing up, my parents supported my interest in taking acting classes and doing community theater. Their faith in me and the professional training I was getting from my theater teachers gave me a sense of purpose and a sense of self-confidence. I learned what artistic achievement actually was and what hard work the business was. Although many people see the rosy picture to our business, I was really learning what it would require for me to become a professional.

I became an actress, but arts education isn’t just about preparing our young people for a job in the arts. I recently talked to some of the kids attending theater education. Some of them want to work in theater, and some don’t. They are learning not only theater skills, but also about the world around them. By studying the arts, these students are open to worlds and lives that they might not have any other way of knowing about or any other way to connect with in their lives the way they are right now.

These young people are our future. We are passing the torch to them. And I think that’s one of the most important reasons why we need to foster (培养) the arts.

I’d done it before, and so I had no reason to believe that this time would be any different. I was sure that when I returned home from my mission trip. As always, I’d bring back nothing more than some mud on my boots. A hole or two in my jeans and, of course, a lot of great memories.

The summer before my high school graduation, I went to West Virginia with others as volunteers to repair the homes of those in need. Arriving at our destination, my group was assigned the task of rebuilding sections of a home that had been damaged by fire. No sooner had we parked on the home’s dirt driveway than we saw an excited little girl, no more than six years old, standing in the doorway of the family’s temporary home. Shoeless and wearing dirty clothes and the biggest smile I’d ever seen, she yelled, “Ma, Ma, they really came!” I didn’t know it then, but her name was Dakota, and four more days would pass before she’d say another word near me.

Behind Dakota was a woman in a wheelchair — her grandmother, we’d soon learn. I also discovered that my job that week would be to help change a fire-damaged dining room into a bedroom for this little girl. Over the following days, I noticed Dakota peeking at us every now and then as we worked. A few times, I tried talking with her, but she remained shy and distant, always flying around us like a tiny butterfly but keeping to herself.

By our fifth and final day, however, this was about to change. Before I went to work on her home on that last morning, I spoke for a moment or two with the grandmother. I was especially pleased when she told me how much Dakota loved her new room — so much. As we talked, I noticed something I hadn’t seen before — Dakota was hiding behind her grandmother.

Cautiously, she stepped into view, and I could see that just like her clothes, her face was still dirty. But no amount of soil could hide those bright blue eyes and the big smile. She was simply adorable. Slowly, she began walking toward me. It wasn’t until she was just inches away that I noticed the folded piece of paper in her tiny hand. Silently, she reached up and handed it to me. Once unfolded, I looked at the drawing she’d made with her broken crayons on the back of an old coloring book cover. It was of two girls — one much taller than the other — and they were holding hands. She told me it was supposed to be me and her, and on the bottom of the paper were three little words that instantly broke my heart. Now almost in tears, I couldn’t control myself anymore — I bent down and hugged her. She hugged me, too. And for the longest time, neither of us could let go.

I left for home early the next morning. I was returning with muddy boots and holes in my jeans. But because of Dakota, I brought back something else, too — a greater appreciation for all or the blessings of my life. I’ll never forget that barefoot little butterfly with the big smile and dirty face. I pray that she’ll never forget me either.