The Most Creative Period of Our Lives

What does it mean when we say early childhood is the most creative period of our lives? Of our development? Yes, it’s something about brain science and neuroplasticity. The brain is still plastic, not set in its ways, and therefore much more able to imagine what’s possible without the heavy burden of knowing (or imagining we know) what’s not. 

NASA gave a test to a group of 4- and 5-year-olds, and 98% of them were determined to be creative geniuses. Why? Because one of the ultimate tests of being a genius is the ability to imagine a possible solution you have never learned. 

That’s play. That’s imagination. That’s creativity. 

And it doesn’t come by us adults telling, explaining, or showing. The more we direct, the less they play, imagine, create. 

The photo is from a very interesting mural that is passed by the young children daily as they take walks. It’s easy to pass it over. It looks like a white wall. Until you adopt the child’s gaze — one without a watch or a next appointment, and that’s hungry for interesting elements to add to their play. Once you get closer, you see carvings in the plaster that look like hieroglyphics, a series of scenes telling a story about a wild dog pack. 

I found it on a walk like that, where I was intentionally searching the neighborhood using my own child’s gaze (yes - it never goes away, and you can always reclaim it) in order to spark some new “destinations” or playful pauses in our daily walks. 

On this day, walking with our 4- and 5-year-olds, I asked the teacher to take us there. As the children began their first “Oohs!” and “Ahh’s!” and questions, “How did they DO that??” the teacher naturally began to answer. She started to explain what it was to carve something and the tool of a chisel. I interrupted her before she could continue with a loud “What do you think?” directed at the children. She took the hint, and we silently let the children interact with the wall. 

Why was it important not to start the experience with a fun fact? Afterall, that is counterintuitive to every tour you’ve ever been on and likely most classroom lessons. Afterall, it was the answer to the question asked. But, we weren’t there to learn how to make a carving in plaster. We were there to wonder and play. 

Perhaps, if the children's interest is deep enough (which we can only know by listening closely), this might become an investigation into murals, working with plaster, hieroglyphs, dog packs, or any number of things. In that next step we might have the opportunity to teach some fun facts about carving and chisels and even try it out ourselves. 

But we are not yet at that moment of answering. We are at the moment of asking questions. 

Any good investigation must start with a good question, and the children gave us theirs immediately. 

"How did they DO that??”

Why would we deny them the absolute pleasure and richness of discovering the answer themselves?