ryochiji (![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} ryochiji) wrote,@ 2008-12-03 22:09:00 |
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on creativity
Last night, I was watching this highly entertaining and, IMO, inspiring talk titled "Do schools kill creativity?" by Sir Ken Robinson. In it, he talks about how Gillian Lynne became a dancer after doing poorly in school and going to see a doctor. This story reminded me of a similar event in my own childhood.
When I was in elementary school in Japan, my parents thought I was retarded. I guess the PC term is "learning disabled" but they've said out right (after the fact) that they thought I was retarded. I mostly got 1s and 2s1. I had trouble memorizing kanji characters. I spent most of my free time playing alone with toy bricks, or in the sand box. But I liked to draw and make things, so they sent me to remedial art classes. They thought, even if Ryo fails in school, maybe he could make a living as an artist2.
I can still remember the first day my dad took me to art class. Being a shy kid, I was quite nervous. My dad had with him a painting I drew in school, which he proudly unfurled in front of the teacher. My heart sank. It was a boring picture. A couple of chickens had wandered into our school one day and caused a stir. When it came time to do a painting, that's what came to mind. But it was a half assed painting. I much preferred painting imaginary castles.
"He painted this." My dad said proudly. "Look at the colors on this chicken." He pointed at a greenish black explosion in the middle. "And notice how there's half a chicken on the left here." He pointed at what was, indeed, half of a chicken. The other half didn't fit on the paper. Big deal.
But it was a biggish deal. Many years later, I eventually realized that by that age, most kids (especially in Japan) had been taught to paint inside the paper. But somehow I'd retained my ability to think beyond that rectangle, and to see a world that didn't fit inside those boundaries. I was literally thinking outside the box, when few other kids could. My parents recognized that as a valuable skill. So they sent me to art classes, instead of cram school.
Fast forward 20 years. "But mostly, it was your creativity." Evan told me, about why he recommended me to the hiring committee at Google. "You came up with workable solutions I hadn't heard before. Creativity counts." He added.
It wasn't until I watched that talk last night that those two events in my life, separated by 20 years, made a connection. But I think that's exactly what Sir Ken Robinson is talking about. Arguably the best thing my parents did to prepare me for one of the most selective jobs3 in an industry that didn't even exist yet, was to send me to art classes. Of course, I wasn't completely off the hook academically either. They made sure I had the basics, and my mom even devised a special way to teach me kanji characters, that didn't require rote memorization (kanji characters are essentially pictograms, so we came up with a story or mnemonic-like device for each one).
It also helped that I wasn't, in fact, mentally challenged4. But it's also obvious to me today that, in a traditional sense, my intelligence is only slightly above average. I don't consider myself to be smart, at least compared to the people I met at the UofC, or work with at Google. The one thing I have to offer, often times, is that I see things a little differently. But that's made all the difference.
1 - In public elementary schools in Japan, students are graded between 1 (worst) and 5 (best) and on a curve (i.e. the distribution of grades is predetermined).
2 - In English, this sounds like a contradiction. I think artists are regarded with more respect in Japan than here, although I'm not certain they're necessarily financially better off.
3 - I can't find public data, but percentage of applicants hired is very, very low (lower than the percentage of SAT takers who score 1600, apparently). Someone also told me that they'd interviewed 50-60 candidates, but only know of 2 that were hired.
4 - Ironically enough, it was my art teacher who told my parents that I wasn't retarded, after he noticed how I was able to design three dimensional models entirely in my head.
Last night, I was watching this highly entertaining and, IMO, inspiring talk titled "Do schools kill creativity?" by Sir Ken Robinson. In it, he talks about how Gillian Lynne became a dancer after doing poorly in school and going to see a doctor. This story reminded me of a similar event in my own childhood.
When I was in elementary school in Japan, my parents thought I was retarded. I guess the PC term is "learning disabled" but they've said out right (after the fact) that they thought I was retarded. I mostly got 1s and 2s1. I had trouble memorizing kanji characters. I spent most of my free time playing alone with toy bricks, or in the sand box. But I liked to draw and make things, so they sent me to remedial art classes. They thought, even if Ryo fails in school, maybe he could make a living as an artist2.
I can still remember the first day my dad took me to art class. Being a shy kid, I was quite nervous. My dad had with him a painting I drew in school, which he proudly unfurled in front of the teacher. My heart sank. It was a boring picture. A couple of chickens had wandered into our school one day and caused a stir. When it came time to do a painting, that's what came to mind. But it was a half assed painting. I much preferred painting imaginary castles.
"He painted this." My dad said proudly. "Look at the colors on this chicken." He pointed at a greenish black explosion in the middle. "And notice how there's half a chicken on the left here." He pointed at what was, indeed, half of a chicken. The other half didn't fit on the paper. Big deal.
But it was a biggish deal. Many years later, I eventually realized that by that age, most kids (especially in Japan) had been taught to paint inside the paper. But somehow I'd retained my ability to think beyond that rectangle, and to see a world that didn't fit inside those boundaries. I was literally thinking outside the box, when few other kids could. My parents recognized that as a valuable skill. So they sent me to art classes, instead of cram school.
Fast forward 20 years. "But mostly, it was your creativity." Evan told me, about why he recommended me to the hiring committee at Google. "You came up with workable solutions I hadn't heard before. Creativity counts." He added.
It wasn't until I watched that talk last night that those two events in my life, separated by 20 years, made a connection. But I think that's exactly what Sir Ken Robinson is talking about. Arguably the best thing my parents did to prepare me for one of the most selective jobs3 in an industry that didn't even exist yet, was to send me to art classes. Of course, I wasn't completely off the hook academically either. They made sure I had the basics, and my mom even devised a special way to teach me kanji characters, that didn't require rote memorization (kanji characters are essentially pictograms, so we came up with a story or mnemonic-like device for each one).
It also helped that I wasn't, in fact, mentally challenged4. But it's also obvious to me today that, in a traditional sense, my intelligence is only slightly above average. I don't consider myself to be smart, at least compared to the people I met at the UofC, or work with at Google. The one thing I have to offer, often times, is that I see things a little differently. But that's made all the difference.
1 - In public elementary schools in Japan, students are graded between 1 (worst) and 5 (best) and on a curve (i.e. the distribution of grades is predetermined).
2 - In English, this sounds like a contradiction. I think artists are regarded with more respect in Japan than here, although I'm not certain they're necessarily financially better off.
3 - I can't find public data, but percentage of applicants hired is very, very low (lower than the percentage of SAT takers who score 1600, apparently). Someone also told me that they'd interviewed 50-60 candidates, but only know of 2 that were hired.
4 - Ironically enough, it was my art teacher who told my parents that I wasn't retarded, after he noticed how I was able to design three dimensional models entirely in my head.
