Lukiv's Educational Stew, Ingredient 1 of 5:
What Can the Student Imagine?

Dan Lukiv
M.Ed., English and Creative Writing
McNaughton Centre, Quesnel, BC, Canada
E-mail: lukivdan@shaw.ca

Unless you're driving a car, or landing a jumbo jet, or doing something else that requires that your eyeballs are well and operative, close your eyes and imagine a scene. It's your scene, so it doesn't have to include me and others screaming as they bounce along whitewater chaos, enjoying the spray and sting and jerk in the soaking cavity of a twisty river raft. Your imagination in gear, leave rationality, or call it conformity, linearity, and left-brain bear-trap logic (Rico, 1983), behind. The New Illustrated Webster's Dictionary calls imagination "the constructive or creative faculty, expressed in terms of images which either reproduce past experiences or recombine them in ideal or creative forms" (1992, p. 483).

Do you enjoy placing yours in gear? Walter Mitty (Thurber, 1942/1969) certainly did, although not for positive reasons. His imagination became his pathological "escape" from his wife-the-nag; however, I speak of imagination more in the benign sense of wonder and creative, frothy thought that enriches, not destroys. But I have to ask, does the rationality of mortgages, diapers, car pools, and retirement plans pop the bubbles of that frothy part of our minds? Egan (2003) argues "the imagination is the ability to think of things as possibly being so" and that "it is a hard-working core of children's thinking". He also argues that it can "be blown away with the growth of rationality" (p. 2).

How can the teacher help the forces of rationality stand at bay for at least part of each school day to allow students the opportunity to exercise their imaginations? According to Egen, "there has not been much research on students' imaginations ... they are clearly central to students' learning" (2003). If Egan has gone too far in this statement, then let me say, "they are clearly [important for many students]."

I'll mention a few such students before I answer the question in the previous paragraph. Mello (2001) interviewed fourth graders from Washington Intermediate School about their responses to a "wide variety of world tales from multicultural sources [that] included myths, folk and fairy tales, sections of epics, legends, and fables." The energy of several responses reveals the importance of imagination to several of the students. With regard to one story read aloud, Brendan said,

I just imagined that this guy. I just pictured him with the hair (the King of Ireland's Thirteenth Son) and in the background I thought [about Lincoln]. I go to Lincoln State Park every year and I am at this campsite across from this well. And we walked in and we could see that over the water there was this big tree that had fell down and it fell down and that's what I pictured. Except I didn't picture a big tree I pictured a little trail that goes like that. And there would be all these rocks over here and the mountains over there and a bunch of things like that. (p. 6)

I relate to Brendon and his leap of creative thought. Egan (2003) calls this a "metaphorical leap." I recall first-year Literature classes in which my professor used a phonograph to play a recording of Richard Burton reciting Dylan Thomas's "Fern Hill" and a recording of a cast of well-voiced actors performing "Under Milkwood." Those classes left me engrossed in my own imaginative musings about what Thomas's childhood wanderings might have been like in mossy Wales, and about what conversations people I knew who had died might have been if they had been buried in the same graveyard and could have actually spoken to each other. These musing became my own very enjoyable metaphorical leaps.

I relate to Mello (2001) when she explains, "through stories and storytelling, children were exposed to long-standing archetypal models that engaged their imaginations" (p. 9). She adds that "Egan (1999) [...] finds that 'the classic fairy tales have considerable power to engage the imaginations of young children in [classroom settings]'" (p. 3). Again, I relate to these statements. I clearly remember my grade-three teacher asking us to read a story that showed me how much fun and how interesting my looking at the world from a different perspective could be (Lukiv, 2002b). In the story, the farmer-husband and the housekeeper-wife each complained about his or her lot and workload in life. Each decided the other had life easy, very easy, and so each traded places. The husband became the housekeeper, and the wife became the farmer. The result was hilarious because each was hopelessly incompetent. That farm and the home became a kind of bedlam filled with burnt food and mooing, un-milked cows. I looked at housekeeping through the eyes of the farmer, and I looked at farming through the eyes of the wife. I became hysterical.

From the day of my silent reading of that story, I have never forgotten how much I enjoy looking at the world from different, unusual perspectives. I believe that story has encouraged me to dream up bizarre people in fantastic circumstances, encouraging me to make many metaphorical leaps as a writer. I refer to some of my characters--Hooper Quirk, Booger Jimm, Professor Hamburger, Dr. Dewknob, and Miss Snapdragon--in the time-travel adventure of my Quibils and Quirks.

What about silent reading and stories or poems read aloud? Both events can stimulate the imagination of students. In my recent study of events in elementary and high school that encouraged one established Canadian writer to take up creative (imaginative) writing, I discovered that indeed many events, including silent reading and stories read aloud, can stimulate imaginative thought. Arthur (a pseudonym) described eight themes that highlight events that encouraged him to value imaginative thought, culminating in his becoming a successful poet. One of those eight themes states, events that promoted the wonder of uninterrupted language experiences and that promoted the intrigue and wonder of flights of imagination fuelled by the connotative and imagistic value of words encouraged him. (Lukiv, 2003).

Thoughts of these sorts of events that promote flights of imagination take me back to one day in grade four, in 1962/63 still in the clutches of a century of formalism (Sutherland, 1995), or call it rationality (conformity, linearity, left brain thinking), when learning briefly changed for me. Our usually stern, aloof, and precisely-accurate teacher surprisingly said, "We're going to do something different today. We're going to talk about the universe. I'm going to ask you a question, but there is no right or wrong answer. Now then: How big is the universe? Does it go on forever, or does it stop? And if it does stop, how does it stop? Remember, now, there are no wrong answers."

Our teacher worked hard to encourage us to allow our imaginations no limits. I (and my fellow classmates) slowly recovered from the shock of being invited to participate in such an unorthodox assignment. I believe I felt my brain turning on. Perhaps newfound numbers of neurotransmitters had jumped to life. My brain seemed to soar across a chasm filled with "5 x 4 = 20" (and other apparently-for-the-moment unimportant facts) to an expanse, a landscape, on which any thinking would do.

What a day! Comments leapt from our grade-four mouths:

"Maybe it never ends" / "How can something never end?" / "Maybe it starts all over again" / "Maybe it ends at a brick wall" / "Could the universe be a circle? So wherever you go, like in a spaceship, you end up back where you started?"

Our teacher, who I remember looked delighted, continued encouraging us to dream up as many possible answers to her "How big is the universe?" question until we literally ran out of ideas. How different from lessons I had digested daily at school--lessons for which "teachers conducted individual or group drills of number facts or the times tables [or conducted arithmetic races that determined winners and losers]" (Sutherland, 1995, p. 106). I thought about those possible--and according to our teacher, anything-will-do--"universe" answers for hours after that class, in which no one that I can recall won or lost. Each time I ran those answers through my mind, I felt exhilarated.

Fifteen years later, I learned in the University of British Columbia (UBC) teacher training classes that my fellow students and I were brainstorming, creatively dreaming up ideas, and about ten years after that I learned that some people call it lateral thinking.

Thereafter (unfortunately), the daily program of formalistic schooling didn't often offer the luxury of brainstorming--brainstorming within a framework of open-ended discussions (another term I learned about during my UBC teacher training). Such discussions were for me the food of lateral-thinking ecstasy or sublime creative thought.

I would have been a much happier student in school if teachers had regularly provided a variety of creative outlets other than art, which I found I wasn't very good at, which encouraged imaginative thought. Lateral-thinking ecstasy felt good. It still does. Instead of that, however, I almost constantly experienced the drone of linearity, which I understand plays a role in much learning. I majored in mathematics in the university setting, taking one course after another that directly prepared me for that next step into that cosmos of logic, symbolism, and manipulation. But excessive linearity in school without the opportunity for imaginative thought drove me up a wall.

As my example of learning mathematics implies, linearity has its place: "It is commonly argued that one of the securest findings of educational research is that new information, to be best understood, must be attached to knowledge the student already has" (Egan, 2003, p. 1). Egan refers to Herbert Spencer who "argued that children's early and simple experience had to form the basis for all future learning and that there must be a regular and orderly progression from what is already familiar to what is slightly less familiar" (p. 1). Herbert Spencer must have known about similar views by John Amos Comenius, born in 1592 in Moravia, now part of the Czech Republic. Comenius, disturbed that schools of his day gave "no thought ... to establishing specific goals for learning" and that "instruction [was not] designed to lead students gradually from simple ideas to complex ones" (Comenius, 1999, pp. 21-22), set the goal of establishing "a progressive system of teaching... . Children should be taught in [linear] incremental steps, he said, with elementary concepts naturally leading up to more complex ones" (p. 22). As he wrote: "Students should not be overburdened with matters that are unsuitable to their age, comprehension, and present condition" (as quoted, p. 24).

Comenius captured the attention of educators to such a degree that in 1654 he received an invitation to serve as the president of Harvard University. Egan echoes Comenius' point of view when he says, "I am not arguing for ignoring students' prior knowledge and everyday experience" (2003, p. 3). And yet, he adds focus for modern educators when he says we need to "acknowledge the importance of students' imaginations" (p. 3). He implies linearity places more "restrictions on children's learning and curriculum possibilities than is warranted when we consider their imaginative lives. We can start with what they can imagine" (p. 3).

These quotes from Egan takes me back to that question I asked: How can the teacher help the forces of rationality stand at bay for at least part of each school day, to allow students the opportunity to exercise their imaginations? In different words, how can the teacher prevent the rigors of much to learn, presented in a linear framework such as curriculum guides tend to lay out for courses in arts and science and most everything else, from robbing all class time for imaginative pursuits? The answer lies in providing opportunities for creative thought, in making sure we provide these opportunities, or events, just as some of Arthur's teachers provided them.

Sometimes those events were simply Arthur being left alone by his teacher to "daydream," to play with words in his head that a poem or story brought to his attention. He said, "[I] looked out the window, formed pictures in my head." Sometimes Arthur had been left alone by the teacher to experience intrigue over the "connotative meanings and the association with the rest of the sentence and the paragraph" that the teacher and class had been considering (Lukiv, 2003).

These were imaginative events for Arthur. Sometimes those events were a result of "teachers that were ... focussed. ... on ... imagination" who respected Arthur's need to sit and daydream and imagine and play with the connotative and imagistic value of words in his head from poems and stories considered in class (Lukiv, 2003). The Ministry in effect supports such events through comments such as "the learning environment should stimulate students' imaginations" (1996a, 1996b, 1996c, p. 2). Arthur's intrigue lay in the ability of those events "to arouse and hold [his] interest or curiosity" (Intrigue, 1992, p. 514), and his wonder lay in the ability of those events to create "a feeling of mingled surprise and curiosity" (Wonder, 1992, p. 1132).

Apparently Arthur's daydreaming served him well, actually encouraging him to view creative thought seriously enough to take up writing poetry seriously. But "in times past, daydreaming was viewed with disdain by mental-health workers, doctors, and educators... . Sigmund Freud ... viewed daydreaming as infantile and neurotic" (Is it Wrong to Daydream?, 1993, p. 24). But as Dr. Eric Klinger states, "Daydreaming is a common and normal activity" (p. 24). He adds, "Daydreams are themselves a way of discovering creative solutions to problems. People who daydream imaginatively can sometimes find solutions that would not occur to them were they to work on the problems deliberately" (as quoted in Is it Wrong, 1993, p. 24). Many coaches and trainers agree. For example, one ski instructor "tells learners to form a mental picture of an upcoming ski run, imagining themselves navigating every curve and dip of the course" (p. 24). Many researchers would nod.

Broadly speaking, daydreaming includes "not only involuntary flights of the imagination but also more deliberate ones" (Is it Wrong, 1993, p. 23). How can the teacher make use of these flights? The answer is simple: encourage students by validating their imaginations. If "your imagination may ... prove to be useful if you have a difficult task to perform" (p. 24) and if it can "mentally rehearse the handling of difficult situations" (p. 24), then it holds validity. Horowitz, the great concert pianist of the 1900s, apparently often rehearsed pieces through his imagining himself playing them rather than actually playing (Perahia, 1990). His imagination, his metaphorical leaps, seemed to work okay, considering "Rachmaninoff himself was so impressed by Horowitz's performance of his Third Concerto that he never played it again" (Perahia, p. 2).

Johns (2000), in his phenomenological article entitled "Body Awareness and the Gymnastic Movement," explains that "gymnasts begin the preparation long before the final movement is achieved ... by imaginatively living through the sense of the activity" (p. 1). He calls this "the mental preparation before the practice period" (p. 1).

Imagination holds validity in many other areas too. For example, events that encourage imaginative thought clearly reside in the area of creative writing. Consider this assignment that I give my grade 12 creative writing students: Let me tug at your imagination. Imagine a stream of consciousness that someone you know (friend, relative, schoolmate, or workmate) might experience. 'Put' yourself in his or her mind. Be someone else for awhile. Don't tense up. Relax. Write." This asks the student to make a metaphorical leap from whom he or she is to another person, encouraging a lateral-thinking ecstasy to gather up ideas. We often ask students in their poetry and fiction-writing assignments to make metaphorical leaps, to take their experience and knowledge and point of view and transform those three into works of art. As a writer, I do that regularly. For example, I read Rico's (1983) book about right brain verses left brain thinking, and this poem emerged from my own experience, newfound knowledge and point of view:

CORPUS CALLOSUM (2002a, p. 51)

One to one,
A moonrise,
A to z,
A Van Gough-sunflower,
A wart,
A face,
Mr. Spock's ears,
Azimov's foundation,
If x, then y,
If x, then then,
5 + 2,
Horton hates a Who,
Chart a flow,
Paint love orange,
Stay on the line,
Ever see a man with
no eyebrows?,
Red light: stop,
Red light: Jim Morrison,
I before e,
Milkwood tea,
Compound words,
The woman is a pig,
Run through the gears,
Van Gough-self-portraits,
A thousand words spoken,
A Mona Lisa-silence,
How to fix a plugged toilet,
What is gravity like?,
A brain is an organ,
The green is the right
          dreamscape.

Creative writing affords lots of landscape for metaphorical leaps and lateral-thinking ecstasy, and so does art. Art puts imagination to work, as does creative writing, to produce a tangible result: paintings, mosaics, sculptures, sketches. We might call imagination that produces a tangible result "creative imagination," something that abounds in this thing we call our universe. We could consider "the exquisite patterns on the quivering train of the peacock, the delicate bloom of a rose, or the high-speed ballet of a glittering hummingbird" (What is Art?, 1993, p. 4). Don't you find our universe a creative extravaganza? One National Geographic writer, intrigued by the lavender filaments of the tacca lily, asked a young scientist what their purpose was. His simple answer: 'They reveal the imagination of God'" (p. 4).

Teachers who encourage creative imagination in the form of art projects allow students to reveal to some degree who they are, to reveal their experience and knowledge and point of view. If the artist's work reflects the individual, then does it surprise us that students often jump for the opportunity do an art project? At my secondary alternate school, McNaughton Centre, students often clamour to get through the door of the art room to work on projects. These students appear almost driven to imaginatively express their experience and knowledge and point of view.

I have mentioned creative writing and art as ways for students to engage their imaginations. Reading is another way because it can open "the doors of your intellect and imagination. ... You can be transported [through imagination and concentration] to the ends of the earth, meet exciting people, ponder eloquent poems, digest new and stimulating ideas, analyze current events and relive history" (Read? Why?, 1983, p. 22). Imagination and concentration, then, can work together to increase reading comprehension and enjoyment. "Concentration is ... strengthened by imagination" (Your Personal Study, 1956, p. 282). The student uses his or her "imagination and the ... [five] senses to picture the subject vividly" (p. 282). This allows the mind to be "completely engrossed. Concentration will be complete and the impression made will be deep and lasting" (p. 283).

If I want to truly remember or understand what I read, I employ my imagination to make the scene, or even the concept, as memorable and understandable as possible. If you are an avid reader, I suspect you do likewise. Some call this application of strategy "metacognition" (Allan & Miller, 2000). I could call it imaginative visualizing. Why not encourage our students to try it?

In the sense that I have been speaking, imagination could be called a literacy strategy that helps "students learn content... . Less successful students do not use effective strategies and usually are unaware that strategies even exist. ... [Teachers] will want to learn what strategies... can help [students] learn better" (Allan & Miller, 2000, p. 8). Understandably, "strategic learners are conscious of what they know, how they learn, what tasks require, and how they are progressing. Educators call this consciousness--metacognitive awareness, or thinking about thinking" (p. 14).

If we are going to encourage imaginative visualizing in our students, then why not ensure that our classrooms are also libraries? Provide a variety of opportunities for students to read. Arthur certainly appreciated those opportunities (Lukiv, 2003). In fact, teachers who offer their students a variety of reading experiences may be encouraging some students to excel in literal, even inferential, comprehension. This can be achieved through reading programs, literature programs, through access to class libraries and school libraries, through visits to municipal or otherwise public libraries to book fairs, and through creative book displays. Thus, these teachers encourage their students to engage their senses imaginatively to "experience" what they read, The Ministry of Education, BC, lists a vast number of resources for silent reading in each of its three guides (1996a, pp. B-9 to B-126; 1996b, pp. B-9 to B-122; 1996c, B-9 to B-103).

And remember (in line with what can the student imagine?), although imagination can serve as a "metacognitive" aid to reading comprehension, "reading stimulates the imagination... . 'You have so much freedom,' says a 10-year-old boy. 'You can make each character look exactly the way you want him to look. You're more in control of things when you read a book than when you see something on TV'" (Guard Against Aliteracy, 1996, p. 21).

Not only can reading, creative writing, and art engage imaginative thought, but so can musical improvisation. I have taught several students the blues scales on the guitar and watched them soon make metaphorical leaps through their imaginations to express themselves in unique ways through informal improvisation. Of course, more formal sorts of improvisation exist. For example, "in Europe, especially during the seventeenth through nineteenth centuries, musical improvisation was highly developed in the hands of master composers" (The Art of Musical Improvisation, 1974, p. 24). Beethoven's pupil Czerny said of his master, "His improvisations were most beautiful and striking'" (as quoted, 1974, p. 24).

I must refer, too, to "twentieth-century American jazz. Jazz musicians [would] ... decide beforehand what they would like to play and develop improvisationally. Melody, harmony, rhythm and form [were] predetermined. It remain[ed] for the musician to build an improvisation around this" (The Art of Musical Improvisation, 1974, p. 26). How high in rank was imagination in these improvisations? If they were anything like "the polished improvisations of ... master musicians [such as Bach and Beethoven]... imagination [came] first... . The tranquility of a woodland scene. Colorful birds in flight, a murmuring brook, majestic trees--they [were] all there" (The Art of Musical Improvisation, 1974, p. 24).

Improvisation aside, imagination often directs the musical composition, as in the obvious case of Beethoven's Symphony Number 6. In its first movement, we discover an "idyllic mood... . A sort of skipping rhythm is heard ... as if the composer were imagining village children at play" (Glesner, 1996, http://w3.rz-berlin.mpg.de/cmp/beethoven_sym6.html). In the other four movements, Beethoven's metaphorical leaps "present" us with quails and other birds, with a country dance, and with a raging storm. Can we--teachers with knowledge of musical theory and composition--encourage some of our students to use their imaginations and the 12-note scale of western civilization to make their own metaphorical leaps? The answer, it seems to me, is yes.

In addition, can we as teachers of Social Studies or physical sciences or art encourage students to design cities, to design buildings in these cities, buildings such as many of the famous structures of history and today that bathe in creative design, in imagination, in metaphorical leaps? Many rich "potentates have been able to enlist the aid of men of ... imagination. Think of all the... graceful columns [of] their architectural masterpieces! There is, for example, the Sad-Sutun or Hall of a Hundred Columns at Persepolis" (Eye-catching Architecture, 1970, p. 21). Other examples to stimulate the imagination abound. The "U.N. building in New York city ... displays the influence of Le Corbusier, the well-known Swiss architect" (p. 22). Other buildings--as well as bridges and even cities that "Extreme Engineering," a television show soon to premiere on the Discovery Channel, will present through an imaginative forum of computer graphics--should provide students with creative fodder.

Perhaps you teach mathematics. It's linear, yes, but doesn't it require an imaginative mind to apply mathematical abstractions to the real world (mathematicians call this applied mathematics)? Actually, doesn't it require innovation--imagination--in finding the solutions to mathematics problems, especially problems of a complex nature? Do you encourage students to value the power of innovative thought? Do you help them appreciate the imaginative value of Newton's invention of Calculus?

I wonder: would Brian Marcus, the new Head of the Mathematics Department at UBC, support my direction? Apparently, "he encourages students who want to study theory, but notes that with the need for mathematics in all areas of science and industry, it is a good idea to learn some applied tools as well" (New Math Head, 2003, p. 2). I suppose the answer to my question would be yes.

Other-than-mathematics science teachers could help their students value their imaginations by asking them to conjure up applications to concepts or to chemical, physical, or biological procedures they are learning. Science fiction overflows with imaginative application that later became reality. For example, the 1960s Star Trek series introduced the personal-style computer for work stations when computers on earth were still whirring, centralized monoliths.

Science teaches might want to introduce their students to "MOST, Canada's first orbiting space telescope ... The MOST team will study infinitesimal surface vibrations, or oscillations, in sun-like stars... . [MOST] will be able to detect reflected light from recently-discovered planets outside our solar system" (Suitcase Satellite, 2003, pp. 1-3). Do you see the possibilities here? What could students imaginatively "see" in the data? New black holes, quasars, radio galaxies, red giants, supernovas, pulsars, neutron stars, star clusters, nebula, white dwarfs? Weird configurations? Bending of light and changes in the speed of light to create the illusion that things are at such and such a place at such and such a time when in fact things are not where and when they seem? Bizarre gravitational effects implying the existence of undiscovered gravitational properties?

Couldn't students' imaginations have "fun" with MOST? I hope so. I hope that through art, science, social studies, language arts, and frankly, all the other subjects, that teachers will encourage their students to engage in creative thought, allowing them the opportunity to make their own metaphorical leaps, to enjoy lateral-thinking ecstasy--to imagine "things as possibly being so" (Egan, 2003, p. 2).

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Academic Exchange Extra invites reader responses to any writings in this issue--especially articles advancing the scholarly debate of issues raised.

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