This I Believe

This, I Believe
Sam
Mr. Russo L.A.
5th Period

I finish my project. An immense painting, messily drawn onto the crinkled canvas, distorted heads peering into the light like turtles just hatched from an egg. The musty smell of acrylic stains the air. I stand back and look. Splendid. After a moment born from the breathtaking astonishment of a new life, brought to the world with a simple brush, I race down my seemingly endless flight of stair that lead to the kitchen, where my mom cooks the steak, soon to be consumed by insatiable children after the bell, and hold up my triumph with pride. I wait for the praise that is inevitable. The answer: “It’s perfect!” I knew it. It was the most perfect thing I had ever done.

The next day, as I get out of bed, I suddenly remember the great creation hanging on my wall. I decide to bring it into school as Show and Tell. I am so excited I can hardly stand it. I inhale my breakfast with upmost enthusiasm and then run to the car and wait for my mom to get in and drive me to the building so long feared, but now an outlet for creativity, for showing all the perfection the others would only dream about it. Ah, yes, I had these thoughts, much as it pains me to think about. I am dropped off in front of the school. I dash out, eager to show my ultimate superiority over the others. Once in class, the teacher asks for a Show and Tell. I whip out my painting and raise my hand, shaking with excitement. The teacher says “how about you, Sam.” So I run up the front of the room and raise the painting for all to see, smiling smugly. I don’t say anything, and after a few seconds, a hand pops up. The teacher says “yes, Roy?” “This thing sucks.” Roy said. This was when I realized the full potency of criticism. I saw, even in my young age, the value of honesty without all the white lies to soften the blow, without the warm comfort of all the untruths. I was devastated. I ran home right after school, crying the whole way. I never did get any thoughts on how to improve it, so it was disposed of.

When someone asks you how something is, you don’t say “amazing!” You tell them what they can improve. You tell them the truth. I believe in the power of criticism as an art to be taken seriously. Life without judgement will never end well. Without judgement you will never improve.