“Okay, does this make you feel better?” The sun was just beginning to peek out from the depths of the clouds. A light fog covered the bright green blades of grass in our neighborhood park. Small birds flew high above the ground, chirping among themselves. I breathed a deep sigh of relief and replied, “That's better, Mom.” It was round three of being behind the wheel; the first two times I went so far as to dub it an "epic fail". During my first time behind the wheel, I was so nervous that I mistook the accelerator pedal for the brake pedal. I'm sure many know how that story goes, yet luckily I was in an empty parking lot; luckily we just scared away a stray cat. By my second attempt, after hours of repetitive driving, parking, and changing turn signals, I had diminished my basic driving skills. Round three was here and I wanted a challenge. There I was, getting ready to walk off the black sidewalk of the parking lot and straight onto the mean main streets. We woke up very early that Sunday morning, to avoid the heavy traffic. There was my mother in the passenger seat. He kept telling me old stories about when he first learned to drive. As he recalled memories from the depths of his mind, he rambled on about how he had no sense of direction. “I couldn't tell you 4th street from 5th street,” he chuckled to himself. Then she remembered that she didn't even know what "giving in" or "merging" meant, even though she was a foreigner. As Mom resurfaced memories from the depths of her mind, the only thing that emerged from me was sweat. My eyes were wide open, fixated strictly on what was happening in front of me. Peering out the windshield, my eyes darted from the sedan to my right, to the Camry to my left, ... middle of paper ... without the slightest sense of anxiety. The streets began to vibrate with the sounds of traffic, as more cars began to pass by on the stretch of road. “You're doing great,” Mom reassured me. After about another hour on the road, scraping the pavement, we were both ready to go home. “You know mom, you taught me a wonderful lesson today,” I told my mother with great appreciation. “You weren't bad at driving at first,” he began, but I knew he didn't understand what lesson I was referring to. That day I realized that sometimes different ways of learning and teaching are much more efficient than others in a given situation. Even if a way of teaching may seem like it doesn't make sense, or even if you don't realize it's happening like it did to me, you have to have some faith in the teacher. I looked at my mother again and simply said, “Thank you.”