This is actually a pretty good book!

I recently read a book called slide:ology that talks about improving slide-based presentations, and the book has given me a lot of food for thought. But one of the minor points that’s really stuck with me comes from a section where the author explains that it’s easy to create your own illustrations for slides, but that people rarely do it because they believe they can’t. The author mentions is that if you ask a group of children, “Who in this room can draw?”, you’ll see almost every hand in the room go up. But if you ask a group of college graduates, “Who in this room can draw?”, you’ll see very few hands go up.

When I’ve gone into classrooms and worked with aspiring young authors, I’ve noticed this as well. Kids believe they can do almost anything, and regardless of the results, they’re willing to try. Adults, on the other hand, only believe they can do the things they know how to do, and they’re often reluctant to try new things without someone there to guide them. What causes this disconnect? Is it simply that children don’t have the wisdom to know that they can’t do something well… or that adults are too concerned with quality to try something that they know they’ll do poorly?

I’m probably the wrong person to answer this question, because I love learning new things, and I’m rarely afraid of failure. But in that spirit, I’m going to make an attempt to do so. Bear with me.

I’m going to suggest that the problem boils down to a story that we often tell our children — “The Little Engine That Could.” I’m not a big fan of the story myself, but I’ve heard it enough times to know the theme. A little train engine is charged with pulling a load of cars up a hill that the bigger engines won’t attempt. Despite the fact that he shouldn’t be able to do it, he pushes himself along with the manta, “I think I can, I think I can…” and as he gets close to the top and seems about to fail, he pushes himself further by saying, “I know I can, I know I can!”. The engine successfully crosses the hill, delivers the cargo, and proves that we can achieve anything if we put mind over matter; hope over fear; positive thinking over negative thinking.

Obviously, the story doesn’t reflect reality very well, and I’m not going to take the time to explain why it’s a nice story, but that it teaches kids to have an unrealistic perspective in a world that seems inclined to crush those who try to achieve things beyond their ability. Rather, I’m going to argue that stories like this reflect the ideas that children have about confidence, but that somewhere along the line, many people lose their ability to say, “I think I can” and refuse to try much of anything unless they can say, “I know I can.”

Kids are not afraid to create.

So, let’s consider things from a child’s perspective. Children are small, in a world of large people, but they don’t see themselves as being tiny or inferior. Rather, they see themselves as being the center of the universe, and it takes them many years (or some horrifying trauma) to develop a sense that they live in a world where they and their parents are not in control. Children also have a natural sense of curiosity, borne out of their development; as they grow, they are able to process information more capably and understand ideas more deeply. Thus they start by asking “why?” and eventually move on to asking “how?” before they start suggesting, “maybe not” and offering their own ideas. Children are also intensely creative and imaginative, and can take simple objects and construct elaborate fantasies around them. Every time I watch a child play with a toy, I’m impressed by how dreamlike their experience is. Sometimes, they stay focused on the toy in one context for awhile, but more often, they switch contexts (and sometimes, even uses!) as their play shifts to suit their needs.

At the same time, children are very demanding of their toys, and they tend to prefer those which are simple and easy to shape to their own designs than those which are complex and only designed to be used one way. This is one of the reasons that many young children do not like video games that have a lot of buttons or complicated objectives; they prefer things that are simple, that allow them to manipulate and explore, and that don’t require them to perform a pre-determined set of actions. This is something that changes gradually as they approach the age of 10 or 11, and that changes sharply once they begin to become teenagers and are faced with trying to find ways to fit in within the adult world.

So, the question we have to consider is, “Are the attitudes towards creativity and trying new things that children have something that we grow out of, or are they something that we shed because we see that other adults don’t behave that way?”

I know that there are many who would probably argue the former, and based on my readings of Piaget and other child behavioral scientists, there is some evidence for that. But I have also observed a number of adults (myself included!) who have not only been able to retain their curiosity and willingness to try new things, but who are capable of producing creative efforts that demonstrate a lack of ability without feeling any guilt or shame over it. Some refer to this as “self-deception,” and I think it’s a good term to use here — we ignore our objective opinions and focus purely on our subjective perspectives to tell us that what we’ve created is, in fact, good. It’s only when we get away from the creation for a bit, and remove our subjective filters, that we can begin to see the flaws.

(This puts the whole concept of God creating the Earth in the book of Genesis in a new context, doesn’t it? Perhaps what God called “good” wasn’t necessarily so great when he took a day off and got himself out of the moment…)

We can all get back to being creative like kids... we just have to stop worrying about what others think.

So, what I’d suggest is that the ability to say “I think I can” is not actually lost in development, but rather, put aside in favor of a teenage concept, “what will others think if I try this?”. Most teenagers are very concerned about what their peers think, and they’re hesitant to try things that they don’t think they can do and that they don’t think their peers will approve of. It is the socially awkward teens who generally remain creative and inquisitive; the teens who are good at socializing focus instead on trusting the group instead of relying solely on their own ideas. This, of course, spills over into adulthood as well, and many adults are more worried about what others will think than they are about creating things on their own. And if they rekindle their creative energy or imagination in some way, they often describe themselves as “feeling like a kid again,” because in their minds, only a child knows what it’s like to defy convention and create.

So, here’s my challenge to any of you who don’t think that you’re creative. Stop asking yourself what you know how to do and start focusing on the things that you think you can do, but are afraid to. You don’t have to take a class or find a tutor to learn new things; there are tons of resources out there for you to learn new things. But be warned — you can’t focus on your failures. You have to focus instead on improving upon your successes. When kids fail at something they actually want to do, they usually say, “oh well,” and pick themselves up and start over. They’ll try over and over and over until they are happy with the result. That’s the proper way to approach creative efforts… and doing so will give you a real passion for the work you’re doing.

Even if it sucks. (See: How to deal with being told that you suck.)