I hate to say it, but Grit might have a point...

I've been putting off writing this post. Why? Well, because I suspect that if my virtual friend Grit reads it, she will probably - in the nicest possible way, of course - say 'told you so!' And the worrying thing is, she might be right.

So, what am I burbling on about?

Earlier this week, I checked on the afore-mentioned Grit, and was fascinated when she directed me to this animated version of a speech given by Ken Robinson at the RSA (that's The Royal Society for the encouragement of the Arts, Manufactures and Commerce if, like me, you had no idea who they are) where he argued very convincingly that the current form education takes - one first conceived 200 years ago - is no longer working for children assaulted on all sides by far more entertaining forms of input.

I watched it (and recommend you do too), and was fascinated. But secretly I was hoping that it wasn't really true, especially the bit where he talks about the systematic reduction of children's ability to think 'divergently' and creatively that happens more the longer they spend in formal education.

Then, 2 days later, it just so happened that I was scheduled to go into Boy #1's class to work with them on creativity. The format was this: I was to read the class a story I had written for my children a couple of years back, and then talk to them about how they might come up with their own ideas for stories they were putting together in a book as the class.

Well, they loved the story. (It was about birthday parties, so of course they loved it...) And then we started to talk about them making up stories for themselves. Now, I don't know about your children, but when my two role-play at home, the sky's the limit. They could be anywhere, be or do anything; fording a stream of boiling lava, jumping from ship to ship in a freezing ocean, fighting monsters in space. That is, I have to say, my experience of most 7 year-olds, and certainly of the ones from Boy #1's class when they come over for playdates, or when I see them racing around in the school playground.

However, something seemed to happen which limited their imagination the moment we started to talk about actually writing stuff down. It didn't happen to all of them, I have to say, (funnily enough Boy #1 was just as capable of imagining himself as Ben Tennyson in writing as he is in play) but it seemed as if for some children the only things they could envisage putting on paper were ones grounded completely in reality. No matter how hard I tried to persuade them that in a story anything could happen, they simply couldn't make themselves do it. It didn't matter that they might be superheroes in their spare time, or adventurers exploring the Amazon when they go for a walk in the woods; when it came to putting pen to paper in class, they could only write what really happens.

Even the secret that I shared with them - that amazingly, the story I had read to them had come completely from inside my own head, that elephants can't talk, and don't go to birthday parties (don't ask) - didn't seem to be able to break down the wall of 'we're in school now; so that means we can only deal with the tangible and the rational'.

Which I have to say, considering that I was supposed to be dealing with 7 year old children with over-active imaginations and at the height of their creative powers, I found pretty depressing. Although not quite as depressing as the close-down response from their otherwise excellent teacher when I foolishly mentioned my impressions to her.

But Grit, please don't say it...