Frank Sent This

I spent the day reading a fabulous book, The Middle Place by Kelly Corrigan. I loved it. It made me really consider my childhood and more importantly, my kids.

Then I was listening to a speech given by Sir Ken Robinson, who is considered a “Creativity Expert”. I want that title. I wonder how you get it…

His speech, which can be found here, is 20 minutes but seriously interesting and entertaining. If you have the time, check it out. His theory, about our educational system, is about how schools kill our children’s creativity.

He tells a story about a boy in The Nativity play at school and how the kings entered the room. The first one said, “I bring you gold,” the second spoke out of turn and said “I bring you myrrh” and the third spoke up and said, “Frank sent this.” Its funny but his point was that little kids don’t really worry about being wrong. They take a stab at it.

He says, kids all start out creative, willing to take a chance at being wrong and by the time they are adults we’ve taken that willingness away. He says, “If you’re not prepared to be wrong, you’ll never come up with anything original.”

“We’ve been educated to be good workers, rather than creative thinkers.”

I don’t want this for my kids. I know I am guilty of it myself. I think reading and writing are the most important. I want my kids to be exceptional readers and writers. What if they’re just not? Are they not as valuable as basketball players or dancers? What if they want to paint, or act?

Kelly Corrigan’s book struck me because her father made her feel like she was the most special person in every situation. She recognized as an adult it was his gift to do that with every person he met, but for a child, that really doesn’t matter. The only person she saw or cared about was herself. He instilled self-confidence and empowerment in her by never letting her be wrong.

I want my kids to take chances… I want to take chances. Don’t get me wrong, it’s hard to see the greatness when they’ve taken a Sharpie to my white board and drawn all over it, or the chair in the bathroom, or the wall (I really should take the Sharpies and hide them). But what different people they might become, if everything they do is an attempt at some kind of greatness instead of just another childhood, punishable mistake…