Back in grade 11, I volunteered to teach a class of grade 3 on how to make snowflake. I was really proud of myself because I was recommended and selected by my highschool teacher.
There I was, teaching grade 3 to cut straight lines and bending the paper so it forms beautiful curves. Almost everyone got it, except for this one kid. Instead of bending the paper, he folds it. He was extremely upset. His snowflakes doesn't look like anyone else's. It was devastating to him. With my eyes opened as wide as I could, I exclaimed, "You've managed to make the most special and unique snowflake."
I wish I could have told you that my brilliant remake stopped the boy from being upset, but it didn't. He kept crying because he felt like a failure, simply because his snowflake is like no one else's.
Since when did we begin to suppress the uniqueness of a child?
Since when did we start to emphasize the importance of being the same as everyone else?
Since when is being "me" not enough?
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