The Country of Creativity

 (disclaimer: my ideas, my memories, my thoughts, my words, structure and format by ChatGPT)

I have always lived in the country of Creativity. I have explored its provinces and have lately discovered a new one - working in the online world of school.

Creativity was modelled and celebrated from my earliest memories. I saw it in the way my grandma made shortbread with three pricks of a fork for decoration. I saw it in the way my mom cut a jack-o’-lantern face into a slice of bologna. I heard it in the way my dad would wake up my youngest brother by playing a random chord on the ukulele. From the depths of sleep, my brother, who has perfect pitch, would accurately identify the chord. These moments were not complicated, but they were grand in their impact and in the legacy they left behind.

Over the years, I explored creativity in many ways. I wrote and illustrated a book about a turtle named Bart, who met an unfortunate demise when he was mistaken for a sandwich. I made job charts for the fridge door. I designed maps and added calligraphy. I hand-sewed stuffed animals and made yarn dolls and sock puppets. Once, I even turned potatoes into people for a sermon my dad was giving.

I played the piano, the flute and the ukulele. I joined the grade 8 band, and was part of the high school musicals "The Music Man" and "Finian’s Rainbow." I wanted to be a dancer, but I did not have the confidence in my body to pursue it. I also thought about applying to be part of Toymaker & Son, a faith-based touring drama company. Even the creative paths I did not take were part of the country I was exploring.

Creativity was evident in other ways. Our backyard fence at our Andrews Place house became a guest book and graffiti wall. Anyone who wanted to could paint on it. Over time, it filled with names, pictures, colours, and memories. It became much more than a fence. It became part of the story of our home.

Creativity was also practical, playful, and unexpected. Very early in our friendship with the Boese family, I showed their kids how to stick Jell-O Jigglers to a window. It was out of the box and became one of those small creative moments that stayed with us. Creativity meant finding ways to make ordinary moments meaningful.

Creativity was always part of my teaching. At Dunach Elementary, I worked with an amazing team of people to write, produce, and stage school concerts. From sets to scripts, we brought together music, stories, costumes, ideas, and the gifts of many different people. The finished concerts mattered, but so did the shared work of creating them. Even The Silent Monks Hallelujah Chorus was carefully and intentionally crafted. (https://youtu.be/bbFd86OztdQ?si=VeAzbQDR_BpFptN5)

Later on, I pursued a MEd in Arts Integration. The real 'aha’ moment came when I read Ellen Dissanayake’s "Homo Aestheticus," during my studies. Her idea of creativity as “making special” gave me words for something I had already seen and experienced for years. It helped me understand that creativity was not only about making art. It was also about care, attention, beauty, meaning, play, and welcome. I have never wanted simply to give students information. I want learning to feel welcoming, interesting, understandable, and meaningful.

And so I have recently discovered a new province in the country of creativity - using technology to create K-9 and high school courses. Online resources have facilitated making connections, solving problems, arranging ideas, and noticing possibilities. Choosing a title, finding the right image, changing the layout, and connecting history, mathematics, faith, and art are all part of the creative process.

Perhaps the most significant realization of late is that creativity does not always have to end with a finished product. Sometimes I buy beautiful fabric, paper, bowls, or other things because I enjoy them. I may have plans for them, and sometimes those plans never happen. I used to feel guilty about that. Now I know that enjoying beauty has value too. Something can bring joy, interest, or inspiration for a while, even if I never turn it into anything else.

I still live in the country of Creativity, but I understand its landscape differently now. It includes the things I make, the problems I solve, the beauty I notice, the people I welcome, and the ideas I help others discover. Some provinces are lively and productive; others are quiet places of enjoyment, curiosity, and wonder.

I no longer believe that creativity must always prove itself through a finished product.

Sometimes creativity is simply the act of making something special—and sometimes it is recognizing that something already is.