“I am enough of an artist to draw freely upon my imagination. Imagination is more important than knowledge. Knowledge is limited. Imagination encircles the world.”
--Albert Einstein
Your child's imagination is at risk. Their ability to think outside the box, or rather, climb inside a cardboard box and fly to the moon, is fading.
I'm a writer--not a teacher, not a parent. I live in an infinite number of imaginary towns, cities, and worlds; on an infinite number of planets, in an infinite universe. In the morning I swim from the depths of my mind to the surface, where light dances off the glistening waters as I discover where I will live for the day. As I wander through my new world I meet all kinds of bizarre creatures. They teach me about their world, and then suddenly there is a spark. It's scary at first, but I was taught to trust that instinct and follow it wherever it leads me.
Some children are not so lucky.
Today, children go through a rigorous course study in order to prepare them for state mandated tests. The materials they are given to read all serve a purpose. And with such an intense curriculum teachers can't make time for creativity-they barely have control over their lesson plans. It's all pre-written, by the state. We are not creating "thinkers." We are creating test takers, and workers. Some of the world's greatest thinkers lived in a time where there was no such thing as standardized testing. They had the freedom to live in their imaginations, and as a result, created incredible things. They read the classics, and learned about the world through literature. This generation will know how to study, but will they know how to listen to their own creativity? Will they be able to trust their spark, and follow it? Albert Einstein said "Logic will get you from A to Z; imagination will get you everywhere."
At the 2012 Society of Children's Book Writer's and Illustrators Winter Conference, a panel member told a room of nearly one thousand writers and illustrators to adjust their material to fit the new core curriculum standards. I was appalled. I looked around the room to see if anyone else had actually just HEARD what this woman had said, and watched in horror as attendees nodded their heads, scribbling furiously as though she had just given them some secret formula to becoming a successful writer.
I will NEVER adjust my writing to meet the needs of state mandated materials. When we talk about making "adjustments" to our writing to fit the needs of the state curriculum, we are walking on a very thin, very dangerous line. "Authors, write what Big Brother tells you to write." Once we cross that line, we create a generation of children who don't know how to read for pleasure. They read, wondering what material in the story they will be tested on. We are depriving them of the glorious freedom of roaming the endless shelves of libraries, selecting a book and falling into a new world.
I spent last year touring elementary schools reading my book, "The Gray Days", and leading imagination workshops with students. I asked students to close their eyes, and listen to my words as I led them through a visualization exercise. The exercise brought them from familiar territory, their bedroom, into an unfamiliar realm as they were asked to to imagine a staircase appearing in their bedroom. It could go in any direction, be made of any material, and lead them anywhere. They would then spend a few minutes living in the land their staircase had brought them, before returning to their bedroom, opening their eyes, and rediscovering reality.
Upon opening their eyes, I asked them to write or draw whatever they saw. A handful of kids began immediately. Others hesitated. Some sat, looking at me, their eyes wide with terror. One child whispered to me, "I think I did it wrong." After assuring the class that there was no right or wrong answer, a few children picked up their pencils and bowed into their notebooks. But one boy stands out in my mind. After five minutes of watching everyone else write and draw, he looked at me, afraid. With his eyes on the floor, he explained that he had not seen anything in his imagination. He had been afraid that it would be wrong, and therefore did not allow it to take him on a journey. He didn't trust his instinct, and was afraid of the creative spark. I worked with him for ten minutes, guiding him through his own imagination. What we finally came up with was a description of his bedroom, and the sounds of what was going on downstairs. "Progress." I thought. At least he was able to see, and hear something.
As children shared their stories with me, I found that most of them could not step out of their realities. The staircase they described led to their attic, where they found boxes of stuff. When I asked them to climb inside a box to see where it would bring them, most described a box of old stuff. They were wrestling with themselves, struggling with the need for approval and the need to imagine. I continued to assure them that there was no wrong answer, and this prompted some more daring stories. A handful of kids wound up in the ocean, or in space. One bright-eyed girl told me about her upside-down staircase that had a trapdoor which opened to the sea, where she swam with lions. But I will never forget the boy who told me he was afraid of his imagination because it was wrong.
J.M. Barrie said "The moment you doubt whether you can fly, you cease for ever to be able to do it." We must encourage children to fly in the realm of imagination. We must teach them to trust their own creativity. Imagination is an endangered species. If we continue down this path of education, it may become extinct. What does that world look like? Let's save imagination, before it's too late.
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