I was about 11 years old. I had written a poem in English about the season autumn as an assignment for my English class at school. I was dreaming about what autumn was like when writing the poem and I managed to get a nice rhyme to it as well even though English is my third language. I was really happy with the poem and so was my mom who read it to check the spelling before I handed in the assignment the next day.
I felt proud as I was awaiting the marks for the assignment, I had a feeling I’d managed to write something more than my teacher was expecting, I knew the mark was going to be good. And so it was, I got a 9 out of 10. As my teacher at the time handed the assignment back to me she said “You didn’t write that all on your own, did you sweetheart?”. I was confused, of course I had written it all on my own. I told her that it was all my own work besides a quick spell check by my mom. She smiled a bit and said “That’s right, so your mom helped you with this, I could tell”. “NO” I wanted to scream, it was I who had written it, why would she think I’ve had help writing it? I didn’t say anything, I just accepted the authority and took my assignment back, feeling depleted.
Why do we kill the creativity of children as we become adults? Why do we not believe that children are able to create beautiful words, pictures, movements, tones, etc.? Just as beautiful as adults can, or even more beautiful actually. Children are more pure than most of us adults, they are not yet living in the box which is telling them how everything is supposed to be, they are able to convert their feelings into something beautiful, something real. Why do we kill the possibilities children see outside the box and make them fit into the box?
Telling a child that their own pure words they’ve written cannot possibly have been written by them, is like telling a child to stop dreaming and putting a roof on the box. Children believe that everything is possible until adults tell them it’s not. Children believe in dreams. It is through dreams and believing in our own possibilities that beautiful reality is created. We can only find that beautiful reality as long as we allow ourselves and everyone around us to dream.
I’ve never stopped dreaming. My dreams have always been big and crazy and lately even bigger and crazier. I love it. The greater my dreams, the greater the beauty of my reality becomes.
Never stop dreaming. Never tell anyone to stop dreaming, because if we do, what is there left?