I recall very clearly an art class when I was in secondary school, in which we had been asked to create a pen and ink drawing. I found I quite enjoyed this activity and eventually, having created something that I was really pleased with, I shared it with the teacher - she told me it wasn't finished.
Dutifully (because I was that kind of child), I went back to my desk and added some more lines, but upon returning to my teacher, I was told again that it wasn't complete. This cycle continued until the end of the lesson and the next week, we moved on - I never did 'complete' that piece of art.
My learning experience from that lesson and others like it was that I was no good at art and that I never would be, because I didn't seem to be able to grasp the apparently arbitrary rules regarding what was 'wrong' and what was 'right' in terms of art. From that point on, I decided that I wasn't creative. After all, creativity is about being able to draw and paint, right?
It wasn't until I became a parent that I questioned this definition. When my son was very small, I would dutifully get out the paints and try and encourage his 'creativity'. Perhaps picking up on my evident lack of enthusiasm, however, he never really got excited about painting or drawing. In the meantime, though, we both loved music and language and we would make up songs and stories, play around with words, creating silly new ones that were reminiscent of the language of Roald Dahl (though not quite to his standard or I'd be a best-selling author by now) and at Christmas, my husband and I would spirit up increasingly crazy ideas for the visiting elf. However, it wasn't until I took a more traditional approach one year, by creating a papercraft advent calendar on our kitchen wall that I remember anyone else ever using the word 'creative' in relation to me. Yet, the friend who shared this with me, saw me as a creative person. It was a revelation and at that moment, I began to re-frame my view of myself in relation to creativity.
These days, I understand how creativity is at the heart of much of what we all do in life, both personally and professionally. You can be creative in planning a birthday surprise for a friend or designing a room in your house, but equally, in planning a lesson or designing a curriculum.
As a teacher of MFL, I see everyday, how learners can be creative with their use of language and even in how they approach that language learning; however, many of them, like me years ago, would never consider themselves as being creative. This is sadly a narrative that teachers are being forced to perpetuate in schools as a result of guidelines that dictate marking in relation to the number of fronted adverbials rather than the child's creativity.
Much like with my art experience, this restriction of the creative process through the application of a set of imposed rules can only serve to create future adults who have shut down their creativity. For my part, I often share my art story with my adult learners and remind them that the vocabulary and grammar they learn are merely the stepping stones that allow them to use language creatively. As a result, they use the language to tell jokes, to create humorous dialogues and to tell stories and it is in this side of the classes that they clearly find their joy. For so many, though, the opportunity to re-frame may never arise and so, we must ensure that children are encouraged to explore and take flight in whatever way we can. After all, an extra line on a pen and ink drawing or the correct use of a fronted adverbial will not make the world a better place, but creative thinkers just might.
@JChillingworth
Comments
Post a Comment