Stefani

Stefani is a child with a quiet presence and an attentive gaze. One of those children who first listen. Then observe. And only when they feel truly safe—begin to speak.

At the beginning of the school year, when she stepped into the doors of Denis Diderot School, she didn’t speak. Not because she couldn’t, but because she didn’t believe anyone would listen.

She wasn’t used to the rhythm of a classroom—neither to the letters, nor the tasks, nor the attention of the other children. The changes between subjects confused her, group activities overwhelmed her, and even the simplest instructions felt like a language she was only just beginning to learn.

She couldn’t recognize letters. She struggled to form sentences. She got lost in daily routines. Math intimidated her. English made her withdraw. The world of learning felt distant and unfamiliar.

But what made us choose her was not the challenges she carried with her—it was the quiet, determined desire to try. Every day. We didn’t choose Stefani because she "met the criteria." We chose her because we saw a child who—despite the fear, the confusion, and the silence—wanted to show what she carried inside.

And then, she began to speak...

Real progress isn’t measured in numbers. It’s measured in direction. And in the things that make you unique.

For Stefani, it was her ability to see the world in her own way—and little by little, to find the words and forms to share it.

One of her most expressive talents emerged in art class. Nearly all her clay projects depict natural scenes—trees, animals, seasonal changes. For her, working with clay isn’t about creating objects, but about shaping how she understands the world. Through art, she began to connect with science—giving her own examples, describing what she sees, making sense of natural processes.

Her other strength is language—not in forming syllables, but in expressing her thoughts.

When she works with words, she chooses them carefully. In Bulgarian language lessons, she often illustrates the words she selects and explains why she chose them. It gives her not just confidence, but a sense of ownership over her thoughts—something that was entirely absent at the start of the year.

Stefani is also a child who loves to share—when she feels understood. During storytelling and retelling, she engages with real focus and interest. She doesn’t just repeat what she’s heard—she adds her own observations and insights.

In group work, she no longer withdraws. On the contrary—she contributes. She helps classmates who struggle. She asks when she doesn’t understand. The sense of security she lacked at first now shows in her actions, her words, her presence.

Stefani’s world is still quiet. But it’s no longer closed.

It’s filled with imagination, ideas, and curiosity. Sometimes she needs time. Sometimes—support. But she never lacks the will. And she never stops trying.

Today, she moves forward at her own pace. She seeks knowledge. She builds confidence. She has found a space where she can simply be herself—not perfect, but heard.

This opportunity became possible through the support of the School for Every Child Association.

Thanks to people who believe that a child doesn’t need to be noticed to deserve a chance.

They just need to be seen.

This is Stefani’s story.

And if it touched you—maybe there’s a place for you in the next one.