Saturday, October 31, 2015

The Curious Creative

Watercolor on paper         12x18            2015
Just about every day of my teaching career I've had at least I one student ask me the same question.  From kindergarten through 12th grade they're all curious about the same thing.  Before I even let them in the art room they want information.  Sometimes they stop me in the hall when they first get off the bus.  I might be deep in conversation with another person and I'll feel a tug on my sleeve.  As I turn around they'll ask me, “What are we doing in art today?”

At times I feel a little impatient or annoyed.  I'm not going to go into all of the things we need to do in class.  I would have to repeat the answer over and over again.  Plus whatever I say will lead to more questions.  I don't have time for all of that!  

But I ask myself the same kinds questions everyday. I start my wakeful thinking with curiosity.  As I get out of bed in the morning I ask myself things like:
- What am I going to wear?
- What am I going to eat?
- What's on my agenda?
- How am I going to get it all done?

Some mornings I approach the day with a sense of dread because of all the things I "need" to do. Taking care of my obligations can deflate my enthusiasm and, at times, paralyze me.  I procrastinate, avoid, make excuses and end up feeling stressed and frustrated. I'm worry more about taking care of things rather than just enjoying the day.

What kind of attitudes would I get if burdened my students with the specifics of academic objectives? What if I told them what they really needed to accomplish in each class?  What if I said, "you're going to be exposed to a standard of learning where you will be using drawing, cutting and gluing to create a work of art."

But instead I say:
First Grade               12 x 18             Mixed Media Collage

"We're going to get in my rocketship and fly to the moon! We're about to do something AWESOME!"

I started using this phrase when I taught middle school.  At first it was just an answer to preserve my sanity.  Then it became part of my regular dialog. Sometimes my answer prompts more questions:

"You have a rocketship?"
"How long does it take to get to the moon?"
"What are we going to do when we get there?"

Or it starts a discussion:

"Do you think she's telling the truth?"
"Do you see the rocketship?"
"Do you think we'll be back for lunch?"

Or sometimes it just makes them smile.

My hope is for my students to enter the classroom excited.  I want them to be seeking answers, instead of dreading the lesson. When they see paint, glue, crayons, brushes and papers, I want them to feel inspired to experiment.  So when I call them to attention, they're enthusiastic to hear what I have to say.  I can then steer the artroom rocketship as they expand their creative curiosity.   Some days we even sprinkle on a little glitter!

Curiousity is the root of all learning.  Asking questions gets ideas flowing.  My brain, like those of my students, questions everything.  And like them, I'm seeking inspirational answers, instead of boring "to-do" lists.  

So I'm challenging myself to begin each day with a simple question:

"What awesome thing am I going to accomplish today?"

Then I'll polish up my rocketship and fly to the moon.

Do you want to come?