When I was young, daddy and mummy sent me for some art & crafts class. Every Saturday afternoon, the kids will all be drawing and painting. Then, we will hand up our pieces of "art" to the teacher who will then award us a grade.
I always got B for my work. I remembered that there was once, I thought that I would get an A for my work. But sadly, the teacher only gave me a B. I was sad. Daddy and mummy comforted me by saying that it is a good thing to be confident of my own work, but sometimes other people have different standards.
For the next piece of work, I was already discouraged and just anyhow doodled and I thought a B would be justifiable. The teacher gave me a C. I was devastated.
I used to think that I wasn't too bad at art & crafts, but because of all these, I started to think that I'm actually bad at it. To be precise, I sucked at it.
I thought I was an 8, then you told me that I'm actually a 7. So I tried to be an 8, until you made me realise that I've become a 6.
