When was the last time you felt truly creative — not ticking a box, not chasing a grade, but simply playing, exploring or making something because it brought you joy?

For many of us, that feeling seems a long way away.

As children, creativity often comes naturally. We draw, build, make up stories, sing, dance, explore and ask endless questions. We don’t usually stop to wonder whether we are doing it “right”

Then something changes.

School can teach us, sometimes unintentionally, that there is a right way and a wrong way. We learn to colour inside the lines, follow instructions and produce work that can be assessed. Creativity can become something extra — something we do after the “real” learning has been completed.

And gradually, we can begin to associate being creative with being good at something.

If our drawing isn’t good enough, we stop drawing.

If our ideas aren’t praised, we stop sharing them.

If we get something wrong, we learn to avoid trying again.

I wonder how many adults now say, “I’m not creative.”

But were we ever actually taught that creativity belonged to all of us?

School experiences can shape the stories we tell ourselves. If we repeatedly experience being corrected, compared or told there is only one right answer, we can become reluctant to take risks. This doesn’t necessarily disappear when we leave school.

It can follow us into adulthood.

We become the adults who say:

*“I’m not artistic.”*

*“I can’t write.”*

*“I’m just not creative.”*

*“That’s for other people.”*

I see echoes of this in learners too. Sometimes the biggest barrier isn’t ability — it is the fear of getting something wrong.

And perhaps that is the real cost of losing our creativity.

We don’t just lose the ability to draw, paint or write stories.

We can lose curiosity. We become less willing to experiment, question, imagine and see another possibility.

But I don’t believe the spark disappears completely.

It gets covered.

Under expectations.

Under comparison.

Under the fear of being wrong.

Under years of believing we have to be “good” at something before we are allowed to enjoy it.

Perhaps creativity isn’t something we need to learn.

Perhaps it is something we need to remember.

And if that spark is still there, maybe we can begin to uncover it.