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February 20, 2006
Creativity
This weekend someone asked me how I landed up being so creative. I’m not quite sure what that means but there are many answers to why I am who I am. I had parents who nurtured my creativity. I had friends who were artists and writers and musicians. I was a bit lonely as a schoolboy and somewhat of an outsider, and writing and drawing comforted me. It still does today.
If there is one person other than my mum and dad who helped nurture my creative side, it was my high school English teacher Mr. Paul Clingman. Mr. Clingman allowed me to write songs instead of essays. He was okay with me printing because I couldn’t do cursive writing. He found a magical creative spring deep within the dyslexic desert through which I was traveling and taught me how to savor its enchanting waters. He played his guitar in class to demonstrate the ebb and flow of words. He played the songs he had written for the loves of his life. He used an old cello and an arrow to describe the weakness of war and the power of music.
(I must say not long after that I bought a guitar and started writing terribly corny love songs for my girlfriend who – bless her heart- kindly endured my bad-beginner guitar playing and horrible singing with a half smile and a puzzled expression. Thanks for humoring me Annie Mustoe.)
All in all, Mr. Clingman planted a tiny seed of expression in my soul that has since become a baobab tree.
So, to answer the question. I became “so creative” because I was lucky enough to be taught by a teacher who injected inspiration into the inane, mundane and insane curriculum that - without him - would have bored my “attention-span-challenged” little brain to death and put me to sleep.
Posted by trevor at February 20, 2006 09:55 AM
Comments
WOW! I'd just like to say that I'm happy that my dad has influenced someone else like that!
Eden
Posted by: Eden Clingman at April 15, 2006 07:19 AM