We talked at length about how, in turning off our love for what we do and putting on a mask that we think will satisfy our peers and teachers at school, we cease to be truly ourselves.

By Hamish Clark | Originally Published at May 1, 2013
I had an interesting discussion with my 5th Grade class today. Lately I have been reading Sir Ken Robinson’s book The Element and I wanted to try out some of the ideas in it on my students. So I asked them the question ‘are you intelligent?’ Then I told them they needed to respond by placing themselves on a scale from one to ten, ten being very intelligent. They reacted in much the same way he suggested they would, having an emotional response to the implications of the question, pitching low or high depending on how successful they perceived themselves being in school. Then I asked them the question ‘are you creative?’

They reacted much more positively to this question, with most of them pitching themselves high, as he had suggested they would because in his opinion most children see themselves as creative. Then I asked them if they thought the first question was a good question and if it wasn’t, to tell me what it should be instead. They were stumped. I shared what Sir Ken does in the book, that the question should be ‘how am I intelligent?’

After some heated discussion we agreed that what this question was really getting at was passion, which we then reduced to love. The love you have for the things you enjoy. So I asked them ‘what do you love doing?’ There was a wide range of answers, from dance to sport. Then I drew a line down the middle of the board, labeling one side ‘Home’ and the other ‘School’ and asked them where they did the things they love. Unsurprisingly, they all fell on the home side of the board.

At this point I should give you some background on my classroom. I integrate tech in every subject, with all my students storyboarding, shooting, editing and producing film. They write, record and perform songs. We integrate public speaking skills into every subject. We dance. We blog. They game online and in the classroom. I teach them to be mindful. We meditate. They read voraciously. They are learning to like computation but eagerly solve real world math problems. They write whenever they can. They are extremely creative, witty, outspoken and confident. Every day when they leave the classroom I shake their hand, look them in the eye and give them some advice for the next day, congratulating them if they have done something they were proud of. This is one of the reasons I can have this type of conversation with them.

Then I drew a vertical line on the school side of the board and marked it from zero to ten, equally spacing the marks. I pointed at it, asking them ‘is the reason you don’t bring your love of the things you enjoy to school this? Are you afraid that if you do, it will be ranked and rated according to the same criteria you feel you are when you do schoolwork?’ After some discussion most of them admitted that this was probably the reason. One of them then said ‘I have better things to be doing than school’, which sparked a flurry of discussion about all the things they would rather be doing. I then redirected their attention to the second question, which they had all marked themselves highly on and said ‘if you are all so creative, how do you bear turning your creativity off for most of the day?’

I asked them why it was, given the way our classroom is, that they still had this view of school as a place where they cannot share their passion. After some thought, we came to the conclusion that maybe this was learned behavior. That we had all been taught that school was a place where you went to learn ‘that stuff’.

We talked at length about how, in turning off our love for what we do and putting on a mask that we think will satisfy our peers and teachers at school, we cease to be truly ourselves. One of them asked me ‘Mr. Clark, do you ever turn off your love?’ I said I did. Then we talked about the fact that maybe, even at their age, they were now on a kind of autopilot, emotionally prepared to weather the storm and escape relatively unscathed, with their personal passions intact. I pointed out to them that by conforming this way they were wasting valuable time and opportunity and shared Sir Ken’s feeling that you have to nurture your talents in order for them to develop. Then I redirected their attention to the second question again and asked them if they thought it also needed changing. One of them, now wise to the way things were going, told us it should be ‘how am I creative?’ He was absolutely right.

The whole conversation and the nature of their responses confirmed something that I have suspected for some time. Not only must we provide exciting, engaging learning experiences for our students but we must also provide every opportunity and incentive for them to bring their passion to school. One of the first ways to encourage this is to bring our own, visibly respecting and nurturing it in front of them and thereby making it normal. I do this regularly by rapping to my students about everything under the sun. They know I used to be a professional musician and they enjoy my freestyle improvisations. They frequently ask me how it is possible to do what I do and I tell them that I spent a long time honing my craft, sharing it at every opportunity. This type of sharing needs to become part of the classroom culture. In my classroom, we often ask each other ‘was it passionate enough?’ when we are critiquing each other’s public speaking. This question can be reformulated for everything we are doing. We should be asking ‘am I passionate enough about what I am doing?’ If we aren’t, we need to develop our ability to use our passion for the things we enjoy as a lens through which to view our work.

This connection to our passion, which is really our intrinsic motivation for everything we do, means that we aren’t wasting the day away. In order to make this more of a reality in my classroom I have been working hard to help students understand that there is nothing wrong with being passionate and that they have a powerful responsibility to themselves to explore their passions. I am trying to show them that this takes time and that they should be developing their passions as often as they can. By doing this, they will gain a deeper understanding of themselves. In shaping an environment where this is commonplace, you also create a community able to function as both passionate performers and audience. Original thought and action will become the order of the day. Conformist thought will become unthinkable. Literally. There is risk involved. But it is no greater than the reservations your students have about sharing their passion in an environment they feel doesn’t welcome it. Perhaps, it is no more difficult than overcoming our own fear of the same.

Hamish Clark is currently an Education Technology Coach at Chatsworth Orchard International School in Singapore He works with learning facilitators to enable them to allow children the creative freedom they require to take charge of their own learning. In his 20 years as a professional creative he has learned many things, but as he says “foremost among them was the ability to collaborate to make the whole greater than the sum of its parts. Once children relearn how to become energised creators it is easy for them to collaborate and dream big. As learning facilitators, it is our job to make sure that as little gets in the way as possible, including ourselves!”

This piece was reprinted by EmpathyEducates with permission or license. We thank the Author, Hamish Clark for his kindness, observations, explorations and for what we believe invites reflection, and perhaps action.