Our children’s creativity has two pulses: outflow and inflow. Our children are enriched by the world around them, and we can—and must—take care to choose positive stimulation for our children. Exposing them to many art forms, from woodworking to drawing to playing music to writing, they find rich avenues for self-expression. As we encourage positive imagery about artists, we must be consciously aware of our own assumptions about creativity and take care to pass on open and accepting values. Exposing our children to art forms of all stripes, we help them form passions and opinions as they form themselves.
When it comes to our children’s creativity, many of us fall into unconscious beliefs that we may have about artists. We must be willing to examine these negative beliefs so as not to unwittingly pass them on to our developing children.
When I teach creative unblocking, one of the first exercises we do is called “Archaeology.” This examines the beliefs we were taught as children related to creativity. “Fill in the blank,” I prompt my class. “My mother thought artists were…”
The room erupts with answers, and those answers seem to be the same, regardless of what country or demographic I am teaching in.
“My mother thought artists were weird!” someone will call out.
“Mine thought artists didn’t have real jobs!”
“My mother thought artists were geniuses!”
I will urge them to fill in the blank again. “My father thought artists were…”
“My father thought artists were all broke.”
“My father thought artists would never have families.”
“My father thought artists were the most important people in the world.”
Examining the beliefs passed on to us from our parents, we gain insight into our own beliefs about artists. There are also the more general societal misconceptions and assumptions about artists.
I now guide my class in another exercise: “Fill in the blank. Artists are…”
Lonely, broke, crazy, selfish, brilliant, famous, generous…the list goes on and on. Neither the negative nor the positive assumptions are necessarily true, and both can be damaging. If artists are indeed lonely, crazy, drug-addicted, and unstable, we certainly don’t want to rush right out and become artists—or encourage our children to. If artists, on the other hand, are famous, brilliant, generous, rich…well, on the mornings when we wake up feeling famous, brilliant, generous, and rich, we qualify—by our own definition—to be artists.
The truth is much less dramatic. Artists are people who make art. Some do it professionally. Some do it for fun. Some are famous, some are lonely; some are happily married, some are single. As in any other profession, artists are human, with a range of human experiences.
We must be conscious of our own default beliefs when speaking to our children about creativity. Every person is creative. Every child is in touch with that creativity. Every child deserves to be encouraged in the direction of their creative interests. We must respect the creativity in ourselves and others, and respect creativity itself.
Another trap that parents can fall into is making—and voicing—assumptions about their own creativity.
“I’m not very creative,” we may hear ourselves saying when our children ask us to make up a story or show them how to draw a dog. “I’m not really artistic,” we say casually when our children beg us to go to the art supply store and ask for guidance in choosing the type of paints to buy.
Every person is creative. Creativity is the natural order of life. When we tell our children that we are not creative, our children learn that there is such a thing as “not being creative,” which is deeply untrue. Once they have this (mis)information, it is a short walk to their repeating it about themselves. You are creative. Your child is creative. Encouraging that in both of you opens doors to happiness, connection, and, yes, increased performance and ability in other areas.
Be thoughtful when you speak of artists to your children. Be thoughtful when you respond to their art, and be thoughtful when you discuss your own. You do not have to be a professional oil painter to help your child enjoy painting. Allowing them to experiment with a set of watercolors is a gesture of faith and encouragement. Allowing yourself to join in is an even greater one. You do not have to paint a perfect dog. You can paint a messy dog in neon pink because you secretly love neon pink, and your child will be better for it. And so, I predict, will you. As long as you are willing to say, “This looks fun. I’d like to try this, too,” your child will mimic your example of openness, playfulness, and optimism.
DEBUNKING MYTHOLOGY
An Exercise 
Fill in the following sentence ten times:
Artists are __________________________________________.
Look at your answers. Do you believe that artists are crazy, broke, negative? Do you believe that they are powerful, brilliant, and kind? Don’t judge your answers. This is simply a sleuthing exercise. Being aware of the mythology you personally carry in relation to assumptions about artists, you are more able to communicate positively with your child about the value of creativity.
READING
Reading to—and with—our children is one of the most time-honored traditions of parenting. Looking back to our own childhoods, many of us remember a favorite book and a time when it was read to us. Following along, we came to see that the letters created words and that—voilà!—reading was something we, too, could learn to do. Our favorite childhood stories stay with us, often foreshadowing interests to come and influencing us in larger ways than we might realize. Becoming a part of our subconscious, the messages in these books nestle deeply in our psyche, shaping our values and clarifying our interests.
The age-old ritual of nightly reading helps to establish the bedroom as a special place. Your child’s imagination takes wing when you read them a nightly story.
“It’s story time,” my mother would exclaim, leading the way to the bedroom. “Let’s get our jammies on first.” And then it would be time to launch into a beloved story—Little Toot or Green Eggs and Ham. “Hop in bed now,” she would instruct before taking up her position alongside. Reading needn’t last a long time. What is important is the consistency of the nightly ritual.
In the Cameron house, there was a complete set of the My Book House books, a twelve-volume anthology of children’s literature featuring poems, mythology, fairy tales, and folk tales, and wonderful illustrations. “It’s always a pleasure to get a Cameron child,” remarked Sister Carl, our favorite teacher. “Your mother does such a good job with you. You’re already educated.” Our mother would read from a volume nightly, beginning with Mother Goose, working up to Beowulf. In addition to the Book House books, she read to us from Marguerite Henry: Misty of Chincoteague, Sea Star, Brighty of the Grand Canyon, and more. In time, we learned that the words stood for ideas. P-O-N-Y equaled “pony”; B-A-L-L equaled “ball.” The evening’s reading was enticing. We always wanted more. But our mother kept the reading ritual to fifteen minutes—a perfect amount of time for both parent and child. Although we did not actually learn to read until we went to school, we learned the idea of reading, that words on the page added up to whole stories, from our nightly bedtime routine.
In time, all of us became voracious readers. In our hall by the front coat closet, there were two heating grates. We would take a book and lie, tummy down, on the heaters, with the book propped just ahead of us on the rug. With bookshelves brimming with yet unread stories and a library down the street, there was a wide world awaiting our curious minds. To this day, my six siblings and I still count reading among our great pleasures. All of us have a book or two that we are reading at any given time. Several of us are now writers ourselves, and all of us would include literature high on our list of inspiring interests.
“It amazes me how many times my three-year-old daughter wants to read the same books,” says Hank. “We’ll get to the end of a book we’ve read hundreds of times, and she’ll immediately say ‘Again!’” Like revisiting an old friend, our children love to hear favorite stories over and over. It is thrilling for them to know what is coming. They are getting to know a work of art, mastering its intricacies. They are experiencing the excitement of knowledge.
“Reading was the activity that connected me to my best friend,” says Sissy, now a highly trained governmental adviser. “I came from a big family, and so did my friend Sarah. Both of us were more serious than the others, and while our brothers were tearing the town apart on their bikes, climbing trees, and playing pranks on each other, Sarah and I would take our books to the roof of the barn and read where no one could bother us. We spent entire summers up there, and although there would be long stretches where we read, side by side, speaking very little, the experience bonded us for life. We are still there for each other to this day. Those summers made me know that it was okay to be bookish and that I wasn’t alone. Somehow, Sarah is always sitting next to me when I read.” Now living with several states between them, Sissy and Sarah are regularly in touch, and their friendship is as loyal as it was when they climbed onto the roof of the barn at age ten, backpacks filled with library books. “I don’t know how many people can say that they are still close to their childhood best friend,” Sissy remarks, “but I think reading side by side is a big part of how Sarah and I created a truly unbreakable bond.”
Reading connects us to other people virtually, as well. We break our isolation when we read, as we connect with stories and ideas that we have not yet encountered. There is camaraderie in reading, and a sense of expansion of our own experience. Even when we are reading on our own, we are kept company by the characters in the story or the author’s narrative voice. Reading, we are never alone. Sharing experiences through reading, we connect ourselves to something larger. Connecting to something larger, we become larger ourselves.
CHERISHED BOOKS
An Exercise
What was your favorite childhood book? Do you see the themes of this book in your life and values today? Can you give that book to your child?
Next choose a book that you would like to read now but that you feel you do not have time to read. When your child reads on his own, whether he is merely old enough to turn pages in a picture book or advanced enough to read silently by himself, allow yourself a few minutes to indulge in your own book. You will connect to each other in your common activity, and in the company of sharing that quiet time “together but separate.”
MUSIC
Whether our children show a passion for creating music or if they just enjoy listening to it, we can encourage our children to be open musicians by playing all kinds of music in the house and encouraging every member of the family to be drawn to what they naturally enjoy. Brothers John and Matthew grew up in a home full of music. Their mother taught piano, and their father was an amateur trumpet player who often awakened the house with “revelry” at five o’clock in the morning. They regularly attended classical concerts by the local orchestra in their small town, and the house was often filled with the sounds of folk records by Judy Collins and Peter, Paul, and Mary. On Saturday mornings, their father would pull out his favorite album, A Night at the Opera by Queen, and blast it through the house as he did the weekly Saturday household chores. Their mother would roll her eyes at the volume of the record, but the boys enjoyed their father’s passion for rock music and came to form a deep appreciation of Queen themselves.
Early on, both brothers started studying Suzuki violin. The basics of music were taught, and both excelled. While Matthew continued in a serious classical direction all the way through graduate school, John became interested in other genres while he was still in elementary school. Studying classical violin, he would spend hours in his room listening to jazz, rock, and funk. He began to decipher the different chord progressions and soon joined a band. Their parents were clear that practicing was nonnegotiable, but beyond that, they allowed their sons to pursue the musical routes that appealed to them.
“Both of my sons were very talented in music, and that was clear from a young age,” says their mother. “I wanted to support their interest and develop their talents. And although I was excited that they seemed to have both passion and natural gifts, it was more important that they learn the value of hard work than anything else. Discipline is necessary in mastering any instrument. And because music came easily for both of them, that really carried with it a responsibility to work even harder. I don’t think that the gift of talent means you get to do less. I think it actually requires that you do more. The bigger the potential, the harder you must work to try to reach it.”
As both sons grew up, they entered lives as professional musicians. Matthew, who completed graduate work in classical cello performance, decided that pop music spoke to him more, and in his twenties, he began writing. Today, his songs are heard on the radio. John went more in the direction of performance, and has toured with many bands. Recently, John started a recording studio. “He’s great at it,” Matthew says of his brother’s recording expertise. “He really has a sound. And I’m pretty sure that he was developing it in his room at age ten, playing those jazz records obsessively. He was learning how to listen.”
Learning how to listen is the most important part of studying music and encouraging its place in our children’s lives. Listening appreciatively to a new chord mastered on the guitar, we empower them to learn another. Praising their hard work, we encourage them to work hard anew. In music, as in any art form, it takes practice to move ahead. Encouraging their practice and participation motivates them to explore the many musical paths available to them.
Heather, a Broadway actress and singer, tells the story of her own music-friendly household. “From a very early age, it was clear that I had musical tendencies. At my second birthday party they had to drag me off the ‘stage’ of my living room when I wouldn’t stop singing the ABCs into my plastic traffic-light microphone. When I was five, my mom started me on piano lessons, and even though all I wanted to do was play music from The Little Mermaid and Beauty and the Beast, I took to the piano and began to build a foundation of musicianship and theory. When fourth grade rolled around and we could choose any instrument to play in either the band or the orchestra, I picked the flute. I stuck with the flute and piano all the way through high school, giving me a leg up on other vocalists once I started my music degree in college. My mom also put me into a musical theater class when I was eight, beginning that whole spiral into the theater world. In a nutshell, my parents recognized my interest at an early age and made the right things happen to help develop my passions into talents. They have never made me feel like I need a ‘backup plan,’ instilling in me a confidence in my skills that has served me very well in this career of rejection. My parents have always believed in me, which has allowed me to believe in myself.”
Looking at Heather’s story, we can see that her inclinations to perform clearly foreshadowed her Broadway career. A stunningly talented actress and vocalist, it’s difficult to imagine her taking any other path. But looking at her history, it was the encouragement of her parents that allowed her gifts to develop. All too often, children are shamed for singing too loud, for having a personality that is “too large,” for “making noise on the piano” when a parent is trying to read the newspaper or watch TV. Letting our children’s gifts and interests develop wherever they may lie, whether they are the same as ours or not, we give our children the chance to become themselves. For some of us, music is a passion to be pursued. For others of us, music is an integral part of life, and the latter is fine as well. Incorporating music into any life—whether by listening on the radio in the car or singing at church—is valuable. There is no right or wrong answer to the question “What is your favorite kind of music?” The right question—“What music do you enjoy?”—will lead to an answer that is always relevant and always changing.
LISTENING
An Exercise
Using CDs, iTunes, the radio, or whatever other music-listening device of your choice, listen to several contrasting types of music with your child. With each one, ask what your child thinks and feels about the style. Offer any knowledge you have—and it does not have to be much. A quick Google search can tell you that Beethoven wrote his Ninth Symphony a very long time ago, when he was completely deaf. It can tell you that Alicia Keys studied classical piano before releasing her first R&B album, Songs in A Minor. Your lesson can be minimal. The idea here is to offer, without judgment, exposure to several styles and eras of music. Allow your child to enjoy whatever he or she enjoys. There is no “wrong” kind of music to like.
BEING AN AUDIENCE
We teach our children to cherish creativity by cherishing it ourselves. We teach our children to respect the creative act by respecting it ourselves. This means we model not only making art ourselves but also appreciating the art made by others. We can start with the movies. There are many made for children’s entertainment. We can attend, with child in tow, a big bag of popcorn to be shared, and an anticipation of quiet as we watch together. It won’t be long before children learn that movies are quiet time, eyes focused on the screen. As we choose the movies with care, we get to know what interests our children and holds their attention. All children are different, and their actual proclivities may surprise us. If a film is “too adult,” children will grow restless or become scared. “Too kiddy” and children become annoyed by being talked down to. If we miss and must abort the mission and leave halfway through, it is not the end of the world. Our children are learning the art of discernment.
I often tell the story of Domenica as a young child. I brought her to a movie that I thought might be a bit mature. She had seemed bored by more age-appropriate titles, so I decided to give this one a try. She sat silently beside me, not uttering a word through the entire movie. In her hand, her bag of M&M’s lay untouched. She was focused completely on the screen.
As we left, I turned to her, seeking her thoughts on what we had seen. Had I taken her to something that might upset her? Was she a little too young for the story we had witnessed? When I asked for her opinion, she looked at me thoughtfully.
“It was only okay,” she said. “I really don’t think they should have killed the husband off-screen.”
I laughed and told her I agreed. I didn’t tell her that most seven-year-olds might not have quite that type of observation. Perhaps it is the moviemaker blood in her, the passion that she was born with, but whatever it was, I allowed it to be. We have gone to many more movies together over the years, and I continually find her insights enlightening.
Once our children have mastered the art of quiet moviegoing, with silent observation and questions postponed until later, it can be thrilling to graduate to viewing live performance. Theater is expensive and expansive, but carefully chosen, the expenditure is more than repaid. The colorful spectacle and catchy songs of The Lion King make it a favorite choice of mine. The story is simple enough to follow, and the villain easy enough to hate. If Broadway is out of reach, and it is for many of us, the local papers feature suggestions for child-friendly shows. An expedition to see The Nutcracker or a visit to view Mary Poppins in a nearby city can be enhanced by careful preparation. Introducing the children at home to the characters they’ll be meeting in the theater helps to guarantee their respectful interest. Likewise, it’s a good idea to familiarize them with the music they’ll be hearing. You can download the Broadway cast album from iTunes before seeing the live show, whether it is a performance by a Broadway national tour or a local community theater.
I grew up on the tunes of Rodgers and Hammerstein, although I didn’t see their shows until I was older. My mother was good at generating excitement. When Rodgers and Hammerstein crafted a television special of Cinderella, our mother made certain we were all glued to the set.
My best friend, Lynnie Lane, was a glorious singer. Her mother provided her with the cast albums of all the Rodgers and Hammerstein shows. She, in turn, spread the word by singing them to me. I still remember the thrill of hearing her carol “Climb Every Mountain.” Listening to Lynnie, I learned to practice silence as golden. She trained me to be a good audience, a lesson I in turn would teach my daughter, Domenica.
We teach our children to be good audience members also by being an audience to them. When they present a story or work of art to us, our warm reception encourages them to continue to indulge their impulse to share. As we appreciate their efforts, they grow. As we sit back and enjoy the show without judgment or “correction,” with no threat of trying to “improve on” their natural impulses, they grow more.
My performer friend Heather tells me the story of her early performances in her home: “When I was ten, we had an addition put on the back of our house, which meant that there were construction men all over our home every day. Without fail, and with no inhibitions, I would come home from school every single day, eat a snack, sit at the piano, and play and sing at the top of my lungs. I can only imagine what the construction workers thought. Probably that it was cute, hilarious, and annoying as hell. My mom, who was a stay-at-home mom, never once told me to stop or made me feel embarrassed. I had no knowledge that this didn’t happen in every single house in our town.”
Being an audience, we receive what is given to us. As we receive graciously, our children follow suit, learning to receive graciously themselves and to give generously as well.
IN THE AUDIENCE
An Exercise
Allow your child to perform for you or gift you with an artistic pursuit. See if you can name a specific quality that you appreciated in what he or she did. The more specific you can be, the better.
Now plan to take your child to be an audience member at a local event. It may be a high school or middle school concert, a gallery, a movie, a play. It doesn’t matter what you choose. When you are done, ask your child to name something specific that they enjoyed or appreciated, and allow yourself to be surprised and fascinated by your child’s answer.
STORYTELLING
We revisit our own stories as our children’s stories are written. Sharing our favorite books and memories with them connects us to our past, present, and future. Our shared family history and culture are valuable pieces of identity for our children, and as we expose them to our backgrounds—and their own—we give them a context and structure in which to expand their own identity.
Our children are likely to make up “make-believe” stories, and we can also encourage them to tell autobiographical stories, even if it’s just relating a funny incident from their school day. The point is to encourage their storytelling, and we do this first by prompting them, and then by listening.
We, too, can tell stories to our children, and the made-up kind may be intimidating for some of us. The most important thing to remember when our children ask us to “tell a story” is that this story does not have to be “good.” We have to jump in anyway and try. Our children can help—we can ask what they think might happen next. We can use props, telling a story about their stuffed animals or toys. The point is that we set our own ego aside and be willing to begin.
My friend and colleague Tyler has taught storytelling for many years. “I think something becomes storytelling when there isn’t a script,” he tells me. “There’s something special about that in a time where text is everywhere—books, movies, YouTube. We have an obsession with making a permanent record of everything, and the magic of storytelling is that it isn’t like that. It only exists for a moment, between the teller and their audience.” Much like live theater versus a movie, a story will be a little bit different every time, and there’s always the possibility of the unexpected. With a live audience, whether the story is spontaneous or a retelling of a classic, the experience for the audience and the teller is new each time the story is told.
Storytelling is like a trip backward in time. Since the first humans sat around the fire, stories have been shared among people. Stories are passed on from one generation to the next, the thread of ancestry that connects us to our past and our future. Children love to hear stories from their parents’ childhood, or stories of their grandparents’ or great-grandparents’ adventures.
“It’s a primal urge,” Tyler continues. “Because it’s ultimately about safety. Every time. Even if we went back to the days of cavemen—let’s say you are a caveman and another caveman told you a story about berries he ate that made him feel sick. You probably wouldn’t eat them. Telling stories creates safety in your tribe.”
In the tribe of our own family, storytelling works this same magic. Taking the time to talk—and to listen—binds us to each other. We may sit in the same room as someone else, both on laptops for hours. There is a certain company in that, but for the most part, our relationships are with our screens and not with one another. Storytelling is the opposite. It connects us as humans in a most ancient and basic way. Some of the best stories are just conversations. With one half telling and one half listening, both partners are active.
By sharing, we connect. By sharing, we define ourselves. Telling a story, we claim ownership over it. Encouraging others to do the same, we encourage their growth and independence as they name themselves and their experience.
Kiera, an actress, loves to tell stories to her three-year-old niece, Sondra, who absorbs the narratives with wonder. Kiera has spent many years performing in children’s theater and as an improv comic, and her storytelling is something Sondra looks forward to on Kiera’s frequent visits.
“I’m educating her in classic stories now,” Kiera muses. “That’s my current project. She needs to know all of them.” Telling the story of Peter Pan to Sondra one day, Kiera acted out the different roles, and Sondra laughed hysterically at Kiera’s many voices and accents. Explaining that “fairy dust” promises that Tinker Bell is nearby, Kiera told Sondra to keep an eye out for Tinker Bell after she’d left.
The next day, Kiera got a call from Sondra’s mother.
“I was serving breakfast to her this morning, and she kept pointing to a spot in the corner of the ceiling. I finally realized she was saying that Tinker Bell was nearby. When I looked at what she was pointing at, it was a little spot of light reaching through the blinds. I thought you should know.”
“Tell her that was absolutely Tinker Bell,” Kiera said, laughing. Her stories have sparked Sondra’s imagination. Inspired to look for it, Sondra will continue to find magic throughout her world.
We certainly don’t have to be professional actors or improv comics to tell our children stories. Simply giving them the raw material—the idea—is enough of a jumping-off point to trigger their vast imaginations.
“I love fairy tales,” says Lillian. “I was obsessed with the Brothers Grimm and the old Disney movies as a child. And guess what? My daughter is going to be exposed to those things, too. We’ll see if she loves them as much as I do, but not knowing about them isn’t an option.”
Lillian tells a story to her daughter every night before bed. Sometimes it is a known story; sometimes it is made up. “Inventing characters that my child might enjoy is fun for me, too,” she says. “And the more I tell stories, the more comfortable I get with telling stories. It gets easier, whether I’m inventing a fairy tale or sharing an adventure of my own from when I was my daughter’s age. The stories don’t have to be perfect.”
Story time can double as lesson time. Your characters can live and learn, just as your listening children can also learn. Often, our children have stories to tell, as well. Our job is simply to listen as our children continue the story that began long before us.
LISTENING
An Exercise
Experiment with telling a story to your child. It can be about anything, long or short. If you can’t think of a topic, ask your child for a prompt. Perhaps it is about the flower on the windowsill or the dog at your feet. Perhaps it is about the invented life of the neighbor across the street or the passerby in the grocery store. There is no wrong topic.
When you are done, ask your child to tell you a story. Really listen to her. Did she have more to say than you might have guessed? Did you?