I’m sitting here staring at a blank screen. I know it’s about time to put out a blog, but I’m stuck. I’m not feeling it. And, really, when we engage in a creative pursuit, shouldn’t it feel a little easier? Shouldn’t it flow rather than be pulled painstakingly from you?
That’s one of the beautiful things when watching a gifted brain at work. They enter flow. Their ideas come flooding out as though no dam, blockade, or closed mouth could keep them in. The energy palpates the space around it. It is inspired and inspiring.
And yet, here I sit. Feeling uninspired. Needing to write. And it dawns on me . . . this is one of the greatest disservices our current educational system inflicts upon its students. It forces faux inspiration in the name of supposed creative learning. It prompts and pushes and pulls students to produce regardless of their inner calling. It tells students what to write, when to write it, and how long it needs to be. It encourages students to look at someone else’s art and replicate it. It teaches students to push through, produce for someone else, neglect the import of flow and muses and self-determined inspiration. It teaches students to lose their voice.
I am not blaming teachers. Their muses have been equally pressed down beneath the weight of standardization and measurable output. They have had their inspiration and flow robbed from them to the same degree that their students suffer it.
I wonder what our schools would look like, feel like, and create if teachers and students could write when they felt inspired to write and write about whatever they felt inspired to write about. I wonder how much more alive our students, particularly our gifted students, would feel If they were allowed to simply find their voice and use it as they saw fit. I wonder what impact on the world’s kindness, compassion, generosity, and problem solving. And I wonder what I can do to encourage this type of growth. And, for now, I wonder what to write.