Invitations to learn
The area was in an alcove with a large wooden table, we placed self-hardening clay. At first, students sculpted cups and saucers, dogs and cats, none of which were particularly well done––and wasted clay in the process. None of their shapes offered inspiration. The area needed its invitation.
I decided to post guidelines: (1) use enough clay to fit in one hand; (2) do not make a recognizable object, such as a cup and saucer; (3) create an abstract shape with at least one hole. A series of remarkable sculptures emerged. It led to one student’s discovery of dampening and smoothing them with polished rocks to create a faux glaze. Soon children were massaging them while listening to stories in the carpet area. Unwittingly, we discovered a way to build meditation practice into the classroom.
I displayed their grey abstracted clay figures on red velvet as a mini-sculpture garden. Sarah wrote to me years later,
Molding clay by hand. Polishing it with smooth stones. This was one of my favorite things to do. Through this, I discovered that there isn’t any right and wrong, when it comes to art, it’s how it feels, sounds, smells, looks. It’s all about what’s pleasing to you. It also helped define who I am. I look at life as an ever changing piece of clay. I find beauties in gifts Mother Nature gives us. I create works of art that please my soul.
I did not recognize at the time that Sarah captured the essence of who we were. Her words articulated what I believed to be the rights of every child in their education: discovering what you love; learning to be non-judgmental; engaging all your senses; to be pleasing (despite being challenging); coming to know yourself; recognizing the ever changing aspects of life, to see beauty in the world, and to be creative to please your soul.
Ironically, the title of my first book, published in 2010, Teaching from the Middle of the Room had as its subtitle, Inviting Students to Learn. It has been my mantra throughout my career.
