In the eyes of what seems like every grade school English teacher, one ought to start to open a paper with a hook, such as a quote, statistic, or anecdote; the following is a hook combining the three of these things: “Creativity involves breaking out of expected patterns in order to look at things in a different way,” in the words of the inventor of “Lateral Thinking,” Dr. Edward de Bono. This is de Bono’s own definition of creativity, but due to the nature of the term, its definition is very subjective; regardless of how one defines it, though, creativity is the groundwork of any art, literature included. The encouragement of creativity is crucial to palatable literature and the development of one’s literacy, despite the restrictive nature education standards have created around writing. This has suddenly become evident to any student advancing to higher levels of writing, as one is not limited to the same rigidity, and the absence of creativity in earlier years of learning creates a vacuum of originality.

Naturally, I do not have every memory of my childhood stored like files in a computer, forever downloaded and available virtually for more than a lifetime — very few people do. Being only a man might be the root of this issue, having plenty of flaws for sure (particularly memory, in my case). Thus, I can only rely on those who were coherent before me, such as my beautiful mother, who always pushed me to read another one of her original release Harry Potter books, or watch another episode of Avatar on Nickelodeon; after all, these were things I was interested in, and they stirred up the creative chaos of my childhood. It did not matter if I was “cool” or if it was what the other moms did, she only cared that I wanted for myself, and followed it to fruition. According to Mom, I spent much time with my older cousin Darby, who was on the brainier side of our moshpit of children; one day, around the age of four, without any prompting or context, I began reading to Mom one of my many colorful little pre-K books, likely “There’s a Crocodile in the Garage,” or Karen Schmidt’s “The Gingerbread Man.” This was the beginning of my literacy, at least in the form of reading, and soon after writing. It was not long before my kiddie bedtime stories grew to be marathons of The 39 Clues in second grade and The Hunger Games in fourth; though long gone were The Berenstain Bears, that early time of life still allowed for imagination and freedom of thought.

In growing older, the content of English classes became less fantastical and more so analyzing bitter nonfiction, or digging through ancient, complex poems with little to no interest to all. Middle school began and so did the teaching of the one-to-two sentence thesis with three to four reasons, at least three body paragraphs (each with evidence and accompanying commentary), and a conclusion that in sum is a pirated introductory paragraph to tie the knot on the essay; this is what is also referred to as the “standard essay format,” but was expected for really any brand of paper. This was the strict code that my classmates and I had to abide by through high school, and it played a key part in the death of creative and stylistic writing, restricting the flow and malleability of every paper. Despite the impersonal form of writing that was pushed, it was during this time that I met some of the most significant sources of my literacy to date. At the beginning of ninth grade, I joined my high school’s Air Force JROTC, introducing me to semi-militaristic terminologies and concepts, such as standard operating procedure (SOP) and physical training (PT). One of my instructors was a Chief Master Sergeant, the highest enlisted rank in the Air Force, and a great mentor to our unit; he taught us to understand and practice the basics of leadership skills, a valuable literacy to have in the pathway to officership. Chief, as we call him, really just shows his cadets what it means to think for themselves, be a good neighbor, a decent citizen — after all, the primary mission of the Corps is to develop citizenship. Not only do Chief’s heavily-anecdotal lessons equip one with these tools, but they also allow for one to see an alternate form of teaching and a unique relationship with one of the most creative-minded teachers possible. In the field of language, I had the pleasure of studying German under a teacher whom we call Frau, directly translated to, but not connoted as, “woman.” She built the foundations of my comprehension of the German language, exploring various creative teaching techniques, and even chaperoning my exchange trip to Germany during the summer of sophomore year. These figures in my life, or “literacy sponsors” in Brandt’s words, reintroduced much needed creativity to my academic life. There is that word again: creativity. All notable learning experiences are rooted in creativity; in truth, I cannot fully remember one that fell into the ranks of standardized, inanimate education. The only exception to this rule is that in eleventh grade I took AP Language and Composition under the one and only Mrs. Jennifer Wenska, infamous for her harsh criticisms and stark sarcasm; Mrs. Wenska, also known as “The Father of Mankind,” also known as “The Vulture (from The Jungle Book),” or just simply as “Father,” taught the curriculum by the order of fascistic monopoly College Board, which did include the “standard essay format.” In conjunction, however, Wenska also allowed for engaging, comedic class antics, such as the nicknames listed above — this was the difference between her sponsorship (Brandt) and the usual grueling English course. This gave students a chance to express themselves, one seldom provided by standardized English education. Even in a class strictly regulated by AP officials, Wenska incorporated creative thought to build an environment that one would enjoy and retain worthwhile writing skills.

Acknowledging the “other side” in a paper, as taught by College Board’s AP, is admittedly an aspect of the regime that does not insult creative writing flow; thus, I will say the process of learning how to “properly write” under my various grade school teachers has benefited me, as each contributed to my development. In the early stages of my literacy, I wrote in a journalistic style, essentially blotting points and thoughts onto a page in the key of a subject. When presented with a structure, albeit prohibiting true style, it lent a hand in organizing my writing into a legible, logical work. Another example is this: I was raised by my strong, educated mother who has led a career in marketing and e-business analytics, and in turn, has a matching vocabulary. The key to marketing, essentially salesmanship, is selling with words; this principle decorated my papers through high school, earning myself the title of “Master of Bull****ing.” Entering twelfth grade, I believed that after acing my prior AP English class, I was a proficient, college-level author– and then came the first 3/5. It was under Mrs. Traner, my then-English instructor, that I removed the “flowery” language that plagued my papers, and thus I grew furthermore as a writer.

To restate, it is practically an unwritten law that worthwhile writing comes from creative process. This is overlooked by lower education levels, and is resultantly an issue for college-level writers, such as myself. Freedom of thought is to literacy as amino acids are to protein — the basic building block; I look to my own history in reading and writing, and there do not exist any true outliers. The development of my literacy, not only in English but in other languages as well, has been directly correlated with the use of out-of-box learning. “Literacy sponsors” (Brandt) and the experiences associated with them are instrumental in one’s story and the ability to understand his or her narrative. It is necessary for students growing as readers, writers, and citizens to be enabled in thinking for themselves and take on attributes of preference when doing so — also known as being creative. For an interest not only of my own, but also on a societal level, a proper education should entail the prompting of creative exercise, rather than the current system which dampens it, and ultimately sets students up for failure.

 

Work Cited

Brandt, Deborah. “Sponsors of Literacy.” Writing about Writing, edited by Elizabeth

Wardle and Doug Downs. Bedford/st.martin’s, 2011, pp. 244-265. Originally

published in College Composition and Communication, 2 May 1998, pp. 165-85.

Zalani, Rochi. “47 Creativity Quotes to Inspire the Creator in You.” ECM, 30 Jan. 2021,

https://elitecontentmarketer.com/creativity-quotes/.