Ok, have you listened to any episodes of Simon Sinek’s podcast – A Bit of Optimism? If you aren’t a regular listener, stop reading right now, go find it, and become a regular listener. It’s aMAZing! I want to be his friend, and his friends friend. I want to do his PR, be on his podcast, have him publish a book I write, or write one together, or go on tour together. (I’m laughing as I type this, but I’m also completely serious!)
During these times, we are all having to find new ways to connect. Join me every week as I talk with people that inspire me, about love, life, leadership and silver linings. The hope is that we all leave with something I think we need these days… A Bit of Optimism.
Yes, a thousand times, yes. We do need a bit of optimism these days, or I’ll just speak for myself. Yes, I definitely need a bit of optimism these days, and I’m finding it in these podcasts. But I want to go a step further and say, I have found more than optimism, I’ve found inspiration, affirmation, joy, and lots to think about. I will be blogging for sure.
Are you still reading? Stop. Go, and listen to a bit of optimism.
I’m finally taking a moment to write. As I sit wondering what to share, the sweet smell of freshly cooked waffles is finding its way into my space. “Mmmm, waffles.” quickly becomes “PIE! I can share another piece of PIE!” I hope you’re hungry, and ready to enjoy a delectable piece of PIE – Picture-book Inspiration and Encouragement.
Today’s PIE has been baked by the talented Skye Byrne and Nic George – The Power of Henry’s Imagination. The ingredients in this delicious PIE #4 are Henry, Raspberry (Henry’s beloved stuffed rabbit), Henry’s grandpa, the mailman, love, and the incredibly flavorful ingredients, Henry’s imagination and creativity. Henry and Raspberry do everything together — until the day Raspberry goes missing. Henry can’t find Raspberry anywhere – and no amount of looking seems to help. Henry’s grandpa tells him there’s only one thing to do — “Imagine Raspberry is with you!” Clearly, Henry and his grandpa love each other very much. So, given the advice, Henry does just that.
The illustrations in the book are lovely. They’re a delightful mix of photographed items and hand drawn images. The illustrations and wonderfully crafted words encourage us to imagine along with Henry — and perhaps into our own lives. The Power of Henry’s Imagination is a beautiful story, and a scrumptious piece of PIE just begging to be shared.
Henry’s imagination is awesome — and as the title suggests powerful. For me, what makes it so powerful is his willingness to enter into the process. He doesn’t just sit and think about Raspberry, he goes about his days as though Raspberry is with him. Raspberry and Henry go on adventures together. Henry goes on the adventures in the physical world. Raspberry adventures through Henry’s mind, heart, and imagination. These imaginative experiences brings joy, peace, and much less fretting into Henry’s life. It’s amazing, really.
Perhaps as you’re reading this you’re thinking. “Oh, come on. This is a made up story, and it’s about a kid and his stuffed toy. What does this piece of PIE have to do with me in my life?” It’s a good question — especially when the situations we find ourselves in often feel more real, more important, more fraught with anxiety and possibly dire consequences than the simple losing of a beloved toy.
Amazingly enough this piece of PIE has a LOT to do with us and the situations that cause us to feel things like worry, stress, anxiety, fear.
The neural pathways of our brains are strengthened by use. The ones we use the most transmit information the fastest. If you’ve ever hiked, or spent time by water you’ll recognize this phenomenon. The paths that most people walk are cut deeper, and are easier to notice and follow. The ones that are less traveled — by humans, animals, or water — are harder to find, and following them is much more difficult and time consuming. So, if we spend a good bit of time fretting, reminding ourselves of our fears, or the things that cause us to feel worried, those are the neural pathways that get strengthened and become easier to to travel. Happily that is also true of the pathways that might bring us joy, peace, and ease.
Our imagination and creativity — much like Henry’s — are remarkably powerful. The essence and power of imagination and creativity is the ability to bring something new into existence — new thoughts, new ideas, new emotions, new things. We imagine what is possible — or perhaps, we open our minds to the possibility that something else is possible. Noticing a new possibility, we choose to believe — crazy as it may sound — that this new thought, reality, option, item, emotion, possibility might be able to become a reality. Then, we open our hearts, minds, and lives to this possibility, and actively work with our creativity to bring it into existence.
For instance when I’m feeling anxious, I entertain the possibility that I can feel peace and joy — even in the midst of whatever is causing me to feel anxious. Then I work to make the possible real. I might become aware of my breath, my emotions, my thoughts. Deepening and slowing my breath is a physiological way to ease my feelings of anxiety. Bringing a smile to my lips and recalling a time I was, or a way I can be, calm, peaceful and happy, begins to allow my anxious feelings and thoughts to dissipate. The smile, and my imagination begin to feel and be real. Might there still be a reason to be anxious, sad, whatever I am experiencing — yes, of course, but my imagination is allowing me to create space, to create possibilities for moments of peace and joy. And as I do so, my brain is creating those neural pathways. It’s a remarkable thing.
And, it’s not just imagination creating thoughts and emotions — powerful as that might be. It’s also imagination creating ourselves — or perhaps allowing ourselves to see the possible and to begin to live it. When my students repeat our affirmations “I have a big beautiful brain. I have an awesome heart. I am kind. I am brave. I can do hard things. I am fantabulous.” I want them to hear it — from me and themselves — and to begin to see it, to feel it, to know it in their imaginations, and then to begin to embody in their very selves and lives. Repeating these phrases changes their inner landscape — strengthening the neural pathways that help them be their most fantabulous selves.
And, wait, there’s more. Imagination and creativity is what allows us to do all sorts of beautiful, new things each day. How might I show my love more fully? How might I help my family, or my neighbor? How might I listen differently, react differently, and therefore get a different response? How might I envision my students as their best selves? How might I include parents in new ways as partners in the learning journey with their children? How might I use what I learned yesterday to create an even better lesson for my students today? How might I set up my learning space?
And, as I run through all those “How might I?” (which by the way grow in power when they are able to become “How might we?”) I am struck by perhaps the greatest quest for my imagination and creativity. How do I want to show up today, every day, wherever I am? And, how might I do that?
Yes, Henry’s imagination and creativity is powerful. My imagination and creativity is powerful. Your imagination and creativity is powerful. How might you use it to increase the love, joy, beauty, fantabulousness of your life and the lives of those you touch.
I read The Power of Henry’s Imagination with my students at the end of the year this past year. After I read it, we talked about our imaginations. We talked about these questions: Have you ever used your imagination? Have you ever used it like Henry did — imagining something to be real that isn’t yet real? Then, I asked them to think all the way back to the beginning of the year. What did they not know how to do, or not yet believe about themselves? Had they used their powerful imaginations to help themselves accomplish their task, or believe something about themselves. All of them had. Their answers were amazing.
(To honor the students I’ve kept their spelling in their sentences.)
“At the beginning of kindergarten I did not know how to wite lower cace but I amagend that I cod now I can”
“At the beging of the year I had to amgin colering in the lines now I can.”
“I was shy so I imagined. Then I made new friends.”
I was, and am, blown away by their answers.
This year I’m going to use the book earlier on. I want them to know, think about, and use their imaginations and creativity to be their best, most fantabulous selves from the very beginning. And, I want to do the same as well.
Where Henry and Raspberry ever reunited? You’ll have to read the book to find out. Or perhaps just continue to use your imagination, like Henry, and have many great adventures.
a. a relater of anecdotes b: a reciter of tales (as in a children’s library) c. liar, fibber d: a writer of stories
I’m a bit aghast as I read the definitions.
I talk to the dictionary webpage “That’s all you have to say about storytellers? A relater of anecdotes? A reciter of tales – as in a children’s library? A fibber? A writer of stories?”
Yes, I know they are — technically — definitions of storytellers. But, in my humble opinion — with all due respect to G&C Merriam and Noah Webster — they are such pedestrian, dry, uninspiring, and perhaps even, incomplete definitions.
What is a storyteller according to me, you ask? So glad you’re wondering.
A storyteller, is: a. a wielder of power b. a connector of seemingly unconnected things c. one who deals in possibility, magic, truth, inspiration, hope. d. a teller of stories — written, spoken, shown, lived — to children and adults. e. me, and you
Are you suprised by my definitions? Are you thinking, “I’m not a storyteller. Storytelling isn’t my thing, I’m a teacher, a doctor, a parent, a crossing guard — I’m just me, I don’t tell stories.”
Ah, but it is your thing. Storytelling is our thing as humans. We are all storytellers. We craft our own stories, and we help others craft theirs.
Maybe in the place of the definition, the dictionary should just have a mirror, or the instructions: To discover what a storyteller is, find your nearest mirror and peer inside.
Still not convinced? Read on.
As you read, listen for the stories being encouraged and told.
I’m in for an MRI. I’m feeling all the classic nervous symptoms, but I’m, doing my best to use positive self-talk, prayer, and my breath as anchors to peace and hope.
I’m greeted at the door with hand sanitizer and a scanning thermometer. “Any cough, fever, recent loss of taste or smell?” “No,” I reply, adding, “Woo hoo and praise God! Have a good day.” She looks at me as though not quite sure how to respond. We make eye contact during her brief moment of hesitation. Finally she says “You, too.” before turning to the next person who has come through the door.
Arriving at imagining I’m handed paperwork to fill out. It includes a laundry list of “have you ever …” Except for the fact that I’m able to answer no to many of the questions, this doesn’t do much to assuage my anxiety. Now I wait. The only noise is the TV which fills the silence of the waiting room with less than positive banter of some news broadcast.
My name is called and the tech takes my paperwork. Looking at the paperwork rather than me, she asks me some questions as she walks quickly — ahead of me — down the hall. She points to where I am required to change out of the clothes I specifically chose to increase my sense of personal power, courage, and fantabulousness, into a significantly less than attractive, dull, hospital gown that seems to mock me by incessantly whispering “you are most certainly not well.” I quiet its voice with my new baby Yoda hat and mask. They speak to me with the optimism of the child who gifted them to me. “Keep breathing. You can do it, Ms. James. You ARE fantabulous.”
As I walk into the MRI room, my tech matter-of-factly hands me the panic button, as I lie down on the machine. She says, quite casually, “it’s going to take 35-40 minutes.” I do my best to control my voice so as not to yell at her as she disappears behind a door. “THIRTY TO FORTY MINUTES?!?!!!”
I close my eyes and take a deep breath as the table slides inside the remarkably small tube. I remind myself of my dad’s words as I left the house “Remember, even though it’s small, there’s plenty of room for some angels in there with you.” My tech’s voice, as though from some far off land, jolts me from that space of safety. “Ok, the first one’s going to be about 3 minutes.”
My oncologist’s office and infusion room is on the second floor. No matter how tired I am, I eschew the elevator, and head to the stairs. Today is no different.
As I start up the stairs, I unzip my coat. My eyes fall upon the hot pink superman emblem on my tech-shirt. With each step, I focus on my breathing, and repeatedly run through a set of affirmations. “I am safe. I am sound. I am well. I am whole. My body is working for optimal health. Life is good. I am good. God is greater.”
I refrain from even thinking “I’m nervous or anxious.” I’m feeling nervous and anxious – but they are most certainly not what I am. As I open the door at the top of the stairs, I borrow an affirmation from my kindergartners “I am peace.” My hand closes on the rosary in my pocket as I walk down the hall from the elevator. In the office, I laugh as I’m greeted “Good golly, Miss Molly! How are you today?”
I’m holding a plethora of cardboard tubes as some of my young Kindergarten architects and builders work to secure them with duct tape. They decided our classroom supermarket needed a door, and after studying a few, they have enlisted me — and my hands — to help with the construction.
The room is buzzing with voices and bodies, as Kindergartners do their best to move without knocking into anything, or anyone. In the corner I see two builders in some sort of power struggle. One face is angry, the other timid. Unkind words come from the angry one’s mouth. Unable to extricate myself from the door, I raise my voice to get the angry one to stop.
When my task with the door creators is done, I go check on the formerly angry and timid builders. We chat for a bit and settle the dispute that had precipitated the problem.
I then ask the owner of the formerly angry face if I might chat with her.
We find a quiet spot and sit together. I ask her if she understands why I raised my voice. “I was being mean.” she says. “Yes,” I reply, “You were.” She didn’t completely meet my gaze. I asked if she would please look at me. She did.
I proceed. “How did I sound when I spoke to you?” “Mad,” she whispers. “Yes,” I say in agreement, “and maybe even a little mean, right?” Now she is really looking at me. “I was right to ask you to stop.” I explain. “I wasn’t right to be mean when I did it. I’m sorry.”
I finally finished zipping the remarkably long zipper on my comforter-like winter coat as I walk out the door for recess. As I slip on my mittens, I notice my boots have come untied. “Drat!” I say to myself, or perhaps even out loud. I take a breath and remind myself it will only take a minute to tie them, no worries.
Out of nowhere two Kindergartners appear — eyes wide, faces glowing — “Do you want us to tie your shoes for your Ms. James? We can tie them!”
I chuckle and refrain from saying “No, that’s ok. I can do it!” Instead I smile and say “Thanks! That would be fantabulous!”
Did you notice the stories that were being told in each scenario? Not just the events themselves, but the stories being told. What stories did I tell? What stories did others tell me? What stories did I help others to hear, and hopefully, to tell? What stories did others encourage me to tell?
We tell stories by the things we think and say, the way we speak, our body language, the clothes we wear, the things we have in our spaces, the way we do or do not look at one another, the background noise we have in our environment, the relationships we encourage, and so much more. We tell stories with each little piece of our everyday lives.
Sometimes the stories we tell are very purposeful and intentional. Sometimes they are not. Sometimes we tell stories without thinking about the stories we’re telling. Sometimes — as in the case of Doug Dietz designer of MRI – we tell stories that we never intended to tell. If Doug is any example, and I think he’s a great one, that’s ok. We always have the opportunity to be intentional, and to change the stories into the ones we want to tell.
So my fellow humans, my fellow fantabulous storytellers, remember, we always tell a story. And, others always listen.
Let’s be intentional. Let’s tell the best stories possible. And, let’s help others hear, tell, believe, and live, their best stories too.
I got a wonderful gift from my friend Jojo. A bracelet that says “Beautiful girl, you can do hard things.” It’s fantabulous! It isn’t inked so it’s not screaming the message, just whispering into my eyes and my ears.
Beautiful girl, you can do hard things! There’s so much power in that little phrase. It felt right to use it in my latest inspirational journal post. I loved placing the words in my own handwriting and art-writing. I illuminated and elucidated them to capture the remarkable fullness of the things — or at least some of them — a beautiful one (me and others) can do. Hard things, yes! But not just just hard, difficult, painful things. Yes, hard difficult, painful things, AND hard, profound, awesome, creative, life changing things. And, lest I forgot, easy things as well.
It was a great creative endeavor. I took inspiration from a few journal prompt ideas, and then mish-mashed them with some of my own loves. It was — all at once — fun, refreshing, peaceful, and challenging. Perhaps because I was quiet and in the moment, I noticed a lot of thoughts, feelings and actions as they occurred.
MANAGING MESS Mess and I are friends! I embrace it as a part of my creative process. I know there is great power, potential, and possibility in mess. And yet, I also know at times, I need to clear my space — and my mind — so I don’t become distracted by it.
I found notes, and photos to be helpful as I managed the mess, or to be more positive, the plethora of ideas and materials I had. They kept the spirit of fullness with me, allowed me to manage many things at once, and assured me that my ideas would not be lost or forgotten.
Funny how both full-exuberant-mess, and cleared-expansive-emptiness are both beautiful and generative.
CONVERGENT AND DIVERGENT THINKING It was fun to allow my thinking to work as a team — collaboratively and freely informing one another. If I were going to illustrate what I experienced, I’d depict them as two beautiful humans, working in peaceful, profound partnership, with lots of conversation, observation, aha moments, and laughter.
COLOR, COMPOSITION, SPACE, SHAPE CONSIDERATION When I began, I had a vague idea and structure I was playing with, but that was all. I didn’t have a clearly defined color palate or composition. As I chose papers for the collage element, I was open to every piece of paper that spoke to me in any way. I didn’t worry if I couldn’t figure out the connection, I just chose. Only after I had gathered all that I loved, did I then begin to consider the path I wanted to take — keeping some while returning others to the box. Once I surrendered to the process it was quite liberating and enjoyable.
The negative space was the most interesting and complicated. Where should I put it? How big should each space be? Will I fill each space? What will I put in the space? Should I connect the spaces? Keep them similar? As with the paper choosing, I endeavored to be both intuitive and reasoned.
COURAGE, EMOTIONAL REGULATION, RISK TAKING, SEEING AND EMPLOYING MY GIFTS It was almost funny to experience the amount of courage and emotional regulation I had to employ — or at least be aware of — as I worked on this piece. It happened as I made new connections, tried new things, or old things in new ways. made mistakes, and even thought of filling the blank space.
I managed it a bit with the use of pencil before permanent ink, and experimenting on other pages first. The saying on the bracelet came in handy now as well — I can do hard things! I’m talented, experienced, able to take risks, learn and grow!
PLANNING, REVISING, ENGINEERING, CHOOSING It was wild to notice the plethora of decisions I was making as I planned and produced the piece. There were tons of problems I noticed as I went along, as well as an abundance of opportunities and ideas I hadn’t thought of in my original plan. All these things required, or enabled, re-planning. Funny isn’t it, how revision can be seen as a problem — an ugly must do — or a wonderful opportunity.
As I worked to fit the pieces of paper, as well as the words, and then doodles, onto the page I was amazed by the amount of spatial manipulation going on in my brain and hands. I was comparing widths and lengths. I was imagining how a particular shape could be split into two or three other shapes. I was comparing percentages covered with those uncovered to find the sweet spot for my piece. I felt a bit like an engineer planning some sort of complicated structure.
The agency in all of this was at times overwhelming, and at others completely exhilarating. Thankfully the overwhelm was momentary and easily foiled with a pause, look, and breath.
DISCOVERING, UNDERSTANDING, LEARNING ABOUT MYSELF – WHO I AM, WHAT I DO, WHAT IS IMPORTANT AND ESSENTIAL AND LIFE GIVING … AND THINKING OF MY STUDENTS
I noticed how my choice of words, and font was incredibly important. I was making meaning with what I said and inked in my own handwriting and art. I tried various fonts, and used the thesaurus to see if there were synonyms that seemed more wonderful in meaning, sound, or feeling. I played with the word order to give me the rhythm I wanted. And, even when finished I kept looking at the piece wondering if I had missed anything. Turns out that little word yes, at the bottom made it complete.
I did my best to be open and honest about myself. I embraced and proclaimed what is true about myself. It’s not that I’ve arrived, not that I’m all I can be, but it is what I am. I am beautiful. I can do hard things, easy things, profound and awesome things, kind, creative, and life changing things. And, in all these ways I can continue to grow.
Now, my students. So many of the things I experienced as I worked are things I want my students to experience — planning, revising, social emotional regulation, finding their voice, speaking their truth, loving words, creating fonts, finding their beautiful and unique handwriting, courage, consideration of composition and all its parts, reflection, agency, creative and critical thinking, and above all, an understanding that each one of them is a beautiful one. Each one of them is beautiful — in all ways — capable of hard things, easy things, profound and awesome things, kind, creative, and life changing things.
I want to take these realizations into my teaching practice. Some of my students have a hard time telling one story at a time. Perhaps it is not that their thinking is a mess as some might suggest, instead, their thinking is remarkable and their brain is incredibly full with ideas and possibility. Perhaps they need a photograph, or a notebook to store and protect their ideas. And, perhaps they need to be applauded for their mind that has so many ideas. My students who are more fearful may need the opportunity to play with all their ideas of story line, character, and setting, before settling on one. Opening them to possibility in the safety of a scrap copy might be incredibly freeing and joy-filled.
The learning and growth that I did through a creative endeavor was remarkable. My students can do the same. They can do it because they are beautiful ones. And, they can do it if I am intentional and help to guide them, be present to them, provide tools they might need, and marvel at their beauty. It doesn’t all happen in purely academic endeavors.
I am a talented, beautiful, competent, capable, and relatively confident adult, and yet it was powerful to receive those words from Jojo. When as an educator, I speak them to my students, imagine the power they have. When they learn to speak it to themselves …. wow!
Beautiful. It’s a good word. A word to see and embrace in myself. A word to see and be in the world. A word to encourage and affirm in others. Might we all be, act, believe, affirm, think, do, beautiful. Surely the world will be better for it.
My creativity, positivity, and art challenge this week is to use things found in some sort of print form — magazines, papers, letters, cards, coloring books, even junk mail is fair game — in my calendar journal posts.
Today I grabbed an old Bella Grace magazine for inspiration . As I flipped through the magazine I was drawn to two pages with images filled with words. I decided to do a riff on a black out poem.
I clipped words and phrases that meant something to me. I looked for words within words. I cut and rearranged the words to create new phrases and thoughts.
These are some of the words, I didn’t use. I didn’t see any connections that struck me so I stashed them in a bag for future use. Now, I see phrases that eluded me as I worked the first time. Here are two: Positivity is healthy, and Turn goals into friends.
I enjoy the black out poetry process, and see more possibility, when I cut the piece apart, rather than use the typical method. I think it’s the ability to see things together, and apart, as well as the increased opportunity to move the words around. Seeing the words from different angles — even upside down — increases my brain’s ability to concoct new phrases, see as yet unseen connections, and have aha moments.
It reminds me of Edward DeBono’s concept of lateral thinking. The easiest way to explain lateral thinking is to imagine looking at something from the side. When you do, you see a completely new item. For instance, a rectangular sheet of paper suddenly becomes a line. And, depending on which side you look at, it could be long line, a short line, or even a line with a point somewhere in the between the two ends. Oh, and if the paper doesn’t stay perfectly straight you can see all sorts of other shapes.
But, back to my cut out poem.
I arranged and rearranged the words in today’s space. I returned to the pile of cut papers and searched out other words. Every once in awhile, I spoke the words out loud to see if I liked the phrasing, meter, and emphasis.
I always kept in mind the vibe I hoped to create, and the story I wanted to tell. The general tone and direction remained the same, but the words themselves changed as I pondered and noticed new possibilities.
Finally pleasantly satisfied, I glued them to the page.
Other than some fab advice in my journal, what are my take aways? As the lead learner in my classroom what did I learn? What do I want to bring to my learners and incorporate into my teaching practice?
Remember, use, and teach about lateral thinking. It’s good to be inspired by others. If you take the ideas of others and make them your own it’s not copying, it’s not cheating. It’s collaborating, creating, and being inspired! Look for things you know. Look for things that are unique, unusual, or that surprise you. Take time. Play. Breathe. Enjoy. Be open to new ways. Connections are important. Search for them, see them, and make them — especially ones that surprise or entertain you See possibility Wonder about the connections and possibility you noticed, as well as those you didn’t. Embrace the importance of your story Explore and enjoy the sound of words and phrasing Search for the best but enjoy the rest Iterate, iterate, iterate. Remember there is always tomorrow rich with possibility and new opportunities to go again.
Sometimes it’s tough to maintain one’s sense of hope, positivity, and peace. Lately I’ve felt weighed down by the struggles around and within me, and discouraged by the remarkably large number of people suggesting there’s no hope, and all is lost.
I cannot abide that kind of thinking. I find suggesting hopelessness amazingly wrong and dangerous. It’s one thing to feel hopeless, it’s a completely different thing to suggest it’s the truth.
So, I’ve decided to combat hopelessness by serving up some fantabulous PIE! Luscious, life-changing PIE.
“Pie??!!” you say?
“Indeed!!!” I respond. “PIE – Picture-book Inspiration and Encouragement.”
I Am One is full of hope and possibility. Hope and possibility that begins with one — one person, one action, one kind word, one gentle conversation. Sometimes the one is acting alone, sometimes the one inspires others to join in, or to begin their own world changing journey of one.
I Am One encourages belief in oneself and others, an understanding that no one is too small, and the certainty that the power of one is really quite strong. The words are simple, and well chosen. It’s the kind of writing that is easy to read, and even memorize, yet still full of awesomeness and strength. The illustrations seem simple — at first — but given a second a third look, or even a really good first look, they add richness and meaning to the story.
If you’re feeling like you could use a lift, or some encouragement to take action, this book is for you. If you have little ones in your life who need to be affirmed in their understanding of their own power and awesomeness, this is a book to share.
I am one. You are one. We matter. We — alone and together — can find one thing, one thought, one word, one deed, one something, to help beauty, goodness, kindness, peace, joy, love, and respect increase in this world.
Be in awe of everything. I love that! Be in awe of everything.
Be in awe of the amazing sky.
But also be in awe of the fork you use. Be in awe of the beautiful red tomato. Be in awe of the green tomato tops that dance like stars after they’ve dropped their weighty fruit. Be in awe of the cutting board, the kitchen counter, the floor, the house, the air, your breath, your very self. Be in awe of everything.
Being open to awe, inspiration, and wonder changes things. It transforms the way I think, what I notice, how I feel, how I interact with things and people, perhaps even how they interact with me.
I didn’t come up with the idea. I’m taking a poetry course with Jacquiline Suskine over at One Commune. Be in awe of everything is her title for Day 1. I haven’t listened to the talk yet. I will tomorrow.
For now I just want to sit, breathe, and be in awe.
I love being inspired late at night. There is something magical about losing oneself in the creative, artistic process, without regard for time or the need to sleep.
In Paint, Play, Explore,Rae Missigman talks about mark making (she calls them art marks), repetition, and embracing whomever one is as an artist. Her thoughts jumpstarted my creative thinking and process last night. I scrambled out of bed and began a renewed exploration and experimentation of roses and leaves.
It was fun — and freeing — to work with familiar, loved shapes. I moved from color pencils to acrylic paint as I created a plethora of roses and leaves.
I considered painting the background black but worried the intense contrast might wreck the piece. Instead I chose a rich blue color. I may experiment with black another day as I do love black and white, but for now I’m pleased with the blue.
I appreciated the “rustic” look I achieved by painting with a bit of abandon. But, the mark making artist in me was unsettled and less than satisfied.
Clearly, the piece was unfinished. So I continued. I added lines, dots, and embellishments. My inner artist was happy with the additions. And, as I embraced my own unique marks, repetitions, and style, my inner critic was quieted.
Today I continued my mark making and repetition.
Nice, right? I really enjoy the mark making and repetition. It’s fun, and clearly the repetitions and art marks make the piece! I love the fullness and pop of the roses and leaves in the center. And, the white outlined roses in the sea of blue add a surprising layer of depth.
I think perhaps I tweaked Rae’s idea of mark making and repetition. I’m not sure, I’ll have to keep reading her book to find out. But, in the meantime, I’m super happy with my interpretation of her idea, and the space and possibility this has opened in me.
A colleague of mine — who is equally enthralled with imagination, curiosity, wonder, and creativity — shared this article with me. It’s a nice article, with things that made me go “Hmmm…” as well as ideas I definitely want to work with my girls.
My only tsk moment happened when I re-read the article for this post and noticed the subtitle is “Three strategies for helping upper elementary and middle school students develop their mind’s eye.” Perhaps the author thought lower elementary and early childhood children don’t need to have strategies to stir their imaginations. Perhaps she thought her strategies were beyond their young minds.
My experience says nothing could be farther from the truth! (If you’ll allow me to be a bit hyperbolic!) My Kindergarteners enjoy using their imagination, and they benefit from language that values and encourages it, as well as strategies to use it in new ways in their learning and life. So, that said, I hope all grades will give the article a read.
The author of the article, Diana Rivera, studies imagination in the field of psychology. Who even knew you could do that? I think it’s fabulous, but I had no idea! Now that I do, I’m going to be doing a bit more research!
Anyway, I like her suggestions for “stirring students’ imagination.” I will definitely be using her thoughts to enhance my own practice of stirring my students’ imagination. But first, I allowed her ideas to stir my imagination!
I was prepping a read aloud and connected project. I love the Gus Gordon picture picture book — Herman and Rosie. and had decided to use that for my read aloud. I discovered this amazing AUSLAN online reading of the book. If you do nothing else, watch the video, and read along with the book as it shows in the background. It’s really a joy.
I wondered what to do as a project. I’m not one for specific “do this” kind of projects, and everything I thought of left me a little blah. Then I received and read Diana’s article.
Dare I just let the girls use their imagination? Did I trust them, and me, and the process that much? What if it didn’t work out? What if they were disappointed?
I took a breath, or more precisely let out a big sigh, and thought “What’s the worst that can happen?” They may not enjoy my idea. They may not be able to imagine anything they would like to create. I may be disappointed in myself fi I cannot help them imagine, create and have fun. I may have to say, “”It’s an experiment, and sometimes experiments don’t work out as planned — at least not on the first try.”
So with really nothing to lose, and lots to gain, I decided to give it a go!
It was fantabulous!!! At first they seemed a bit perplexed as I explained the project.
Them: “What are we doing for project?”
Me: “We’re going to use our imaginations and think of what we might create that has a connection to Herman and Rosie.”
Them: “But what are we going to make?”
Me: “I don’t know! We have to think about it. Use your imagination. What can you think of in your brain that we could make?”
Them: silence …
Me: “It could be anything. Maybe we want to imagine a place we’d explore and make a map like the one in Herman and Rosie. Maybe we like to sing so we’d make something for singing.”
One of them: “Maybe we can make musical instruments!”
Me: “That is an awesome idea. We can make musical instruments!
Them: “Musical instruments? We can make musical instruments?!”
Me: “Sure. Let’s give it a go.”
It was a beautiful day so we moved outside to our play area. Several girls crowded around the table and set work. As they worked they had to also problem solve how to keep the papers from flying away — it was beautiful because of a rather strong breeze.
The first to make a guitar brought it to me.
Her: “How do I get inside it?”
Me: I was stumped. “Get inside it?”
Her: “Yeah,” she said, as her fingers moved along the string lines she had created, “Inside it. So I can play it.”
Me:”Oh! You want strings?!!”
Me: “Wait right there!” I hurried inside to get a pack of rubber bands and some more cutting tools.
We worked together to decide on the number of strings she wanted, and the number of strings that could fit on her guitar. We problem solved — adding popsicle sticks for strength and stability — when the strings caused the guitar to bend in half. Finally we basked in the glow of a mini working guitar.
As she strummed it, she looked at me and said, “Maybe tomorrow I’ll make a guitar pick.”
She wasn’t alone in her imagining and creating. Several others created instruments too. Many of them created guitars and my original young guitar inventor was able to act as expert and help them.
One of the next days as she was dismissing, she popped her head back into the room and asked “Why are so many people making guitars, Miss James?” “I’m not sure, but I think it’s because they really liked your idea, and your guitar.”
She didn’t say anything, just looked at me.
I continued, “What do you think? Do you think maybe you inspired them to create guitars?” A smile I will remember forever illuminated her face. She shyly shrugged, and left the room, aglow, saying “Maybe!”
Perhaps, along with asking myself “What’s the worst that could happen?” I should have also asked “What’s the best that could happen?”
Several remarkably wonderful best things that could happen were shown to me by all my creators — most especially the smiling, glowing girl.
We can imagine things and create them.
We can help each other.
We can inspire one another.
And best of all, we can learn that we are inspiring!
I recently presented a workshop on Design Thinking with a fabulous NJAIS colleague. It was an incredibly thought-provoking experience for me. Teaching educators about using design thinking in the classroom forced me — or, more correctly, allowed me — to immerse myself, again, in a plethora of creativity and design thinking resources. I read, listened and thought deeply, as I searched for the connections, and inspirations to share with the participants.
The idea of rapid prototyping was particularly provocative. It’s not the norm for education, and yet it has the potential to be profoundly valuable. By prototyping rapidly — with ideas, strategies, or products — we gather large amounts of information in a relatively short period of time. In the process, we discover our own strength and agency, and we experience the hidden potential of failure.
Rapid prototyping and gathering information from each failure, is a natural mechanism for learning, problem solving, and innovating. I experienced its value as I watched my students attempt the Tower of Hanoi math game.
I prepped them for the process. I emboldened them in their willingness to try. I told them they might not get it — the 1st, the 5th or the 100th time — but they should keep trying, and learning with each move, mistake or failure. After listening to the rules, they gathered their three blocks, and set to work figuring out the puzzle.
One of the girls was the epitome of rapid prototyping. Rarely taking her eyes off the blocks, she moved them without discussion.She made hundreds of moves. She appeared undeterred by her failure to solve the puzzle, and seemed to find joy and interest in the process.
The number and quickness of her moves, might suggest her moves were aimless or unstudied. Someone watching might wonder whether she were learning anything, or making any progress. But, looking at it with the eye of a design thinker, it became clear she was rapidly prototyping.
Her movements were speedy, and many. But, they were definitely not without observation, noticing, thought, or purpose. As she made her moves, she clearly learned about the blocks, the puzzle board, and the ways in which everything worked together. After what seemed like hundreds of moves, she paused, looking at the board. Then, she made the seven moves necessary to solve the puzzle!
(I particularly love this photo that captured the rapid movement of her hands as a blur of motion.)
It was fascinating and a bit humbling to watch her! I was struck by how wonderfully it illustrated how we learn, as well as my role as an educator.
I must create a culture and environment that supports my students. A culture with resources that bolster their knowledge and understanding, while encouraging them to be brave, and to believe in their ability to work and learn. I must give them provocations and opportunities to problem find, and problem solve.
Then, I must step back and let them do their thing. I must resist any urge to jump in and rescue them before they actually need my help. I must sit in my own discomfort, and trust. Trust the process of learning. Trust creativity and design thinking. Trust rapid prototyping and learning from failure. And mostly, trust them!
Finally I must breathe! My breath helps me pause and gift my students with time and space. It helps me remain calm and confident, unafraid as my students heroically brave the unknown.
It’s a spectacular process that inspires and teaches me. My students — our students — have a tremendous amount of courage, insight and capacity to do and learn. All they need is the opportunity — and our trust and breath.