A fictional story:
Three children are dancing around on their knees in front of the teacher, hands in the air, begging to be chosen to take the lunch orders to the office.
Let me do it!
The teacher stares over their bobbing heads and says, Matthew, please would you take this to the office, as I know I can trust you. The three children's hands go limp and they sit with a plop, looking deflated.
The next day the same thing happens, though the three's enthusiasm is muted, and another child is chosen. The day after that, the children stare into the faded carpet as the teacher chooses someone else to take the lunch orders to the office.
At the end of the year, when the teacher calls for volunteers, she wonders why everyone seems so unenthusiastic. Why don't any of you ever want to do anything, she grumbles in frustration. The children stare.
But Miss, Simon pipes up, every time I volunteered for the things I wanted to do, you chose someone else. Are we allowed to do anything?
The teachers shouts at him, saying, don't get clever with me Simon. There is no reason to stop trying.
Sorry Miss, Simon mumbles, but he doesn't stick up his hand again, and he tries not to comment again in class.