Nurture creativity

I’m going to try something a bit unusual for a teacher column on education. Mainly, I’m going to attempt to model what I’m presenting — in this case, advocacy for creative opportunities for kids in the classroom. Just please bear with me for a short preface.

Numerous studies connect the nurturing of creativity with deeper learning and increased productivity in the workplace. Unfortunately, this practice is not necessarily part of teaching in all classrooms.

Meanwhile, innovative companies such as Google and Apple are known for supporting unstructured recreational time for workers and for authorizing designated (often 20 percent of the work day) computer time for personal projects using company resources.

The philosophy is that in encouraging unfettered creative thinking, the spin-off benefits will be realized by the company. As a result, workers have developed personally profitable products while maintaining high levels of workplace productivity. In the case of public education, I’m proposing that in offering innovative opportunities for students to express and apply what they learn, they can deepen their learning and more directly connect lessons to the real world.

Her words sail across the room

like the lead boat in an ocean regatta.

They turn on a dime, rounding a buoy

And head confidently toward the next mark.

As spectator, I’m spellbound,

enthralled by the smoothness of her skill,

plying waves, trimming sheets,

leaving a smooth wake in a restless ocean.

Only weeks ago this young woman found her sea legs.

With practice, she learned to come about,

fluidly reclaim the tiller

as the deck beneath her rocked starboard and port.

Yet she didn’t master the helm alone — or overnight.

In the classroom we’ve collectively nurtured a safe, relaxed living room.

Our seats became couches, tables our bay windows,

journals, display cases for once dark corners.

Daily practice helps us learn to turn off

inhibiting parts of our brains.

No longer is there nothing to say when a journal is opened.

Sticks of graphite record unrestrained

meanderings of imagination.

At first, when segments fail to hold together;

we celebrate moments of clarity.

Then gradually, with greater confidence,

strengthened trust,

lines become coherent stanzas

phrases become melodies.

Melissa’s metaphors model Mozart.

Henry’s haiku herald Hendrix

Peter’s prose prompts Proust

Diana’s desires deliver Dickinson.

Young poets discover their

previously unrecognized voices.

They pull images out of experience,

face challenges never before

imagined as manageable.

And when words fall on the floor,

like Julia Child’s tandoori chicken thighs,

we learn not to gasp, or scream, or cringe.

We dust them off, smiling, and keep on cooking.

Paul Morley teaches language arts and fine arts at Burchell High School.