What could I do better? by Daria

What could I do better? by Daria - August 2026 Scholarship Essay

My brush gently floated across the watercolor paper, leaving behind bright, flowing lines that, to me, looked perfect. I proudly turned the page toward my grandma(babushka), Liuba, waiting for her approval. She studied my drawing for a moment. Then, instead of saying, “How beautiful,” she pointed to what I had done wrong.
I was confused. I brought her my drawing because I wanted to be told I did a good job. Instead, I got a critic which faded away my smile same as the brightness of watercolor fades over time.
At first, I did not always understand her. I was a child, and I wanted praise that made me feel proud of what I had created. Babushka Liuba, however, was straightforward. It was part of her strong personality, but I eventually realized that her honesty came from something deeper: she cared about me enough not to tell me something was good when she believed it could be better.
Growing up in my Slavic family, I became familiar with a kind of love expressed through honesty. Compliments were meaningful, but they were not given simply to make someone feel good. If something could be improved, one of the family members was there to tell you. At first, I sometimes saw criticism as a sign that my work was not good enough. As I grew older, I began to understand the core concept of criticism and how different it is from rejection. Liuba taught me that criticism can be a form of respect. When someone takes the time to explain what could be stronger, they are treating you as someone they know is capable of improvement. And now, by having a different approach, instead of asking, “Do you like it?” I began asking, “What could I do better?”
This became extremely important as I became interested in architecture. I learned that a first idea is rarely a final one. A drawing can have a strong concept while still lacking its proportions, composition, or structure. I stopped seeing my first version as final and began viewing feedback as part of the creative process rather than a judgment of my ability.
Receiving criticism now and listening before defending my work, I have learned that being proud of something does not mean believing it is perfect.
I still think about those smooth watercolor lines, and no longer see criticism as something that can wash away my confidence. I see it as another layer—one that can make my work, and me, stronger.