The first three chapters of, Sparks of Genius, were important to me personally, in that they began with challenging me to think outside the box or, in other words, to take off my peripheral blinders in order to think holistically about the subject of creativity. One of the ideas in Root-Bernstien’s book explores that artists’ creativity should come from more than just their ability to see things in a way that others may not, but that it should come from an ability to use all of their senses in conjunction with one another for true originality of their ideas to be displayed. A truly creative artist or writer longs to capture their audience through more than just visual or auditory stimulation, they desire to create for them a genuine emotional experience. This is where creativity gets complex; it is no longer just about using the right words or colors, it’s about understanding the reality and emotions behind the right words or color expressions.
For the most part, I think the above definition for creativity, when attached to the arts, is more widely accepted and understood. It is within the Sciences that we start to lose this concept; the focus—at least in the way many do education—is more in the head than in the heart. We teach students to “think” like scientists or mathematicians, but we teach them to “feel” when it comes to the arts. I was intrigued by Henri Poincare’s quote when he said “There is one thing that strikes me, and that is, how far young people who have received a secondary education are from applying the mechanical laws they have been taught to the real world . . . . For them the world of science and that of reality are shut off in water-tight compartments” (Root- Bernstein, 17). Since I am not currently in the classroom (but I can certainly look back to the five years I taught and see the truth of Poincare’s quote), I thought of this concept and how it relates to my own daughters and their love for horses. They like reading horse stories, watching horse movies, pretending to be horses and playing with their horse toys. But their love for horses does not stop in this make believe world; they also like to read about the different kinds of horses and how to take care of them. They are learning “text book” information about riding and caring for horses—but even this, I have found, is not where their greatest knowledge and understanding of horses has come from. Their understanding has grown most through their personal experiences in the realistic world— actually spending time around horses, learning how to feed them, ride them, clean and care for them. Not only has real, personal experience promoted understanding of “book” knowledge, but it has overall, made them more passionate about horses and “reality” has made their “play” time even more creative. I can certainly see how this would be true for the artist and the scientist.
I love the idea of integrating subjects in education. Why let the mathematician always know when the shift into Language Arts hits them, or why let the artist always know when Science is being discussed? The Véjà Du assignment showed how even the mundane can appear new and intriguing, and before we know it (or before our students know it) we find ourselves looking a little closer at something that previously would never have caught our eye. If someone would have shown me a picture of an umbrella and told me to study it closely, I would not have been as eager to begin as I was doing it the other way around where I looked at pictures and discovered it was a umbrella. Couldn’t this work with our students as well? We do not have to tell them up front they are doing math, or language, or science. We could just give them interesting pieces and parts of it—enough to capture their interest without turning a deaf ear. . . especially since we do not really know if the one who appears to excel in science will go on to be a scientist or a famous artist.
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