Our traditional K-12 system has lost its creativity, if it ever had it. Few thinkers inside that system approach challenges and problems with the question “How can we make this better?” Instead, our K-12 leaders are more than willing to double-down on what they believe has worked for them, and kids, in the past – better teachers, charismatic school leaders, an engaging curriculum, and high-stakes testing.
But what if we favored creativity in schools over rote memorization? What if we favored “doing different” over doing the same things we did back in the 20th century?
Today and Monday, we will explore two very different examples of creativity. One has to do with what is called “the social prescription” and the other has to do with what one community is doing with their old motels around town. Very different topics, but both examples of how we could become more creative when it comes to our children’s learning.
“The Social Prescription” comes from journalist Julia Hotz in a book titled “The Connection Cure: The Prescriptive Power of Movement, Nature, Art, Service, and Belonging”:
“A middle-aged man with mysterious pains walks into a doctor’s office, where three helpers greet him.”
“’When your pain began, what else was happening in your life?’ asks the first helper, a teacher from Nepal.”
“The patient – we’ll call him John – thinks for a minute. He realizes his pain began right after his wife died. With no reason to leave the house, John didn’t, and now, he spends most days in bed, achy and alone.”
“The second helper, a chemist from Iran, chimes in: ‘Do you have good? Cash? A reason to get up in the morning?’”
“John thinks some more. He says he has basic needs covered, but his will to wake up died when his wife did.”
“Then the third helper, a physician from Greece, asks John about his pain from the other end: ‘When your wife was alive, what made you feel healthy?’”
“This time, when John answers, his whole face lights up as he describes a dreamy scene: Each morning, he and his wife would walk in the park – greeting the songbirds, the oak trees, the neighbors. After work, he’d sit in his backyard and strum his guitar, while his wife would sing along. Night after night, they’d cruise through songbook after songbook, playing with new melodies and harmonies and guitar riffs. And when John would go to sleep, he couldn’t wait to wake up the next day and do it all again.”
“Now, with a sense of what used to make John feel healthy, the doctor offers some medicine: a spot in their community orchestra. Taking his prescription pad, he writes instructions to walk to the local symphony hall for orchestra practice three times a week. He offered John a social prescription.”
“A social prescription is officially defined as a nonmedical resource or activity that aims to improve a person’s health and strengthen their community connections. Don’t let the ‘social’ fool you: These are not small-talky, introvert hellscapes where docs sprinkle friendship fairy dust and motley crews of strangers suddenly become best buds. And they’re not prescribed only for social isolation, either. Social prescriptions can cover everything from orchestra practice to fresh vegetables and can help treat everything from depression to poverty….”
…
“…Movement, nature, art, service, and belonging were once staples of our daily lives. But since our survival no longer requires these five ingredients, we no longer structure our lives around them. Instead of moving our bodies, observing nature, creating art, serving our neighbors, and seeking belonging among fellow human beings, most of us spend most of our time sitting, observing screens, consuming ‘content,’ obsessing over our stuff, and seeking belonging among superficial sources. Instead of connections in our environments, we fill our waking hours with their substitutes.”
…
“Remember the teacher-chemist-doctor trio who treated mystery-pain John? They were based on real people, who really did preach and practice the power of social prescribing long before it was called that.”
“The teacher from Nepal? That was Siddhartha Gautama, or Buddha. Born in the fifth century BCE, Buddha connected health to the harmony a person feels with their environment, and in their social relationships. To alleviate suffering, he believed the person should try to understand, or be mindful, of its cause. Not bad for a 2,500-year-old.”
“The chemist from Iran? That was Abu Bakr Muhammad ibn Zakariyya al Razi, or Rhazes, who lived in the ninth century AD. While contemporaries blamed mental disorders on supernatural causes, Rhazes blamed (at least some) sicknesses on unmet social needs. When he became a physician, he put that theory into practice. Before offering drugs, he offered food as his first line of medicine. Before discharging patients, he offered them money to help with their immediate needs. It was one of medicine’s first recorded references to prescribing cash.”
“And the doctor from Greece? That was Hippocrates, born in the fourth century BCE. We might know him through the Hippocratic oath – the pledge doctors take to use warmth, sympathy, and understanding as much as surgical tools and pharmaceutical drugs. But his lesser-known feat came from practicing ethics through social prescribing – as one of the first physicians to offer a written prescription for exercise. His ancient Greek contemporaries also used music and theater to treat mental health problems.”
So what if a learning organization focused on movement, nature, art, service, and belonging instead of English, Biology, U.S. History, and Algebra? How would our young learners think differently, act differently, and in the end, be different?
What would happen if a group of learning entrepreneurs launched a microschool where kids in low-performing traditional K-12 schools were invited to attend and work on becoming more comfortable in their physical space, their natural environment, serving others, and gaining and maintaining a sense of belonging?
We know what a traditional school with traditional teachers and a traditional curriculum will get us. Isn’t it time to try different?
Til tomorrow. SVB
A Better Path to Learning 
Leave a comment