Permission to fly: Creating classroom environments of imaginative (im)possibilities

Permission to fly: Creatingclassroom environments ofimaginative (im)possibilities

Belinda MendelowitzWits School of Education

If we accept that almost all writing can be approached creatively,then we should be establishing classroom environments whichexplore the possibilities of ideas and the possibilities of languageto express these ideas (Cremin and Myhill 2012: 24).

Recently there has been a renewed focus on creativity in the UK English class-room, that has not been seen since the 1960s and early 1970s (Fitzgerald et al.2012). This has, in turn, generated much debate, research and discussion aboutwhat creativity is, its implication for creative writing and most importantly howteachers can create classroom environments that promote creative learning andcreative writing. Current research suggests that nurturing teachers’ creativity canimprove their practice as teachers of writing. A number of Teacher Educationinterventions have focused on the provision of creativity and creative writingcourses for teachers with the view that such experiential learning will enableteachers to become more effective writing teachers (Grainger et al. 2005; Creminand Myhill 2012). However, the results have been tentative and more research isneeded to establish a stronger link (Andrews 2008; Whitney 2008).

While I endorse this focus on nurturing teacher creativity, in this article I arguethat there are a range of other interrelated variables and relationships that needto be given attention in order to gain a more holistic understanding of the chal-lenges of teaching creative writing. In particular, I argue that key elements thatcreate or limit creative writing in the English classroom include the teachers’school writing histories, conceptualisations of imagination, classroom discoursesand pedagogy. It is valuable to explore how these variables interact to createclassroom sites of creative possibilities, impossibilities or limited possibilities.

Research on writing pedagogy has taken into account teacher writer identities(Grainger et al. 2005; Cremin 2012) and the relationship between practice and

Corresponding author: [email protected]

164 © 2014 National Association for the Teaching of English

DOI: 10.1111/eie.12041 English in Education Vol.48 No.2 2014

beliefs is well established in the teacher education literature (Freeman 1996).However, the contribution this article makes is in exploring the detailedinteractions between teachers’ conceptualisations and enactments of creativewriting pedagogy. I develop this argument through the presentation andanalysis of case studies of two senior primary (Grade 7) English teachers inGauteng schools, South Africa: Fiona and Debby. The case study documentseach teacher’s school writing history, conceptualisation of imagination andimaginative writing, use of classroom discourses and pedagogy. Theimplications of these two case studies for creating classrooms of imaginativepossibilities are then considered.

Crossing ContextsI am writing across two very different contexts, South Africa and the UnitedKingdom. My own work is situated in Gauteng, South Africa but much of theresearch that I draw upon is from the UK. The need to draw predominantly onUK research is in itself a significant reflection of South African educationaldiscourses, curriculum trends and the marginal position of creative writingwithin this educational landscape.

The title of the article, ‘Permission to fly’ is indicative of the constraints placed onteachers and learners, particularly in a South African context where curriculumdocuments increasingly foreground a ‘back to basics’ discourse. Since 2009 therehas been a move towards a more prescriptive, directive curriculum calledCurriculum and Assessment Policy Statements (Department of Basic Education2011). While creativity was on the margins of the previous curriculumdocuments, in the new curriculum documents it has been virtually exiled.Creative writing as a genre is barely mentioned and no attempt is made toconceptualise creativity or imagination. The overarching discourse is ‘no-nonsense’,back to basics, prescriptive, highly structured, and ‘teacher-proof’. It isunderpinned by a narrow view of creativity that views a ‘back to basics’approach as a solution to the South African literacy crisis and creativity as apotential distraction from learner’s acquisition of linguistic proficiency.

There has been a policy shift away from this kind of approach in the UK(Fitzgerald et al. 2012). While English teachers in the UK have potentially been‘given permission to foster the “elusive” concept of creativity in the Englishclassroom’ (Fitzgerald et al. 2012: 58), English teachers in South Africa arefacing new constraints. Given these constraints, it is important to make anargument for the value of creativity in educational contexts, particularly in thewriting classroom, to conceptualise creativity in substantial ways and to look atstudies of teachers who create environments of creative possibilities.

Uneasy bedfellows: creative writing, cognition and effectDespite recent moves to conceptualise creativity and writing in more explicitways, it remains a somewhat elusive and contested term in educational dis-

© 2014 National Association for the Teaching of English 165

Belinda Mendelowitz English in Education Vol.48 No.2 2014

course and in the broader public domain. Indeed, some would argue that thevery nature of creativity means that it cannot and should not be given too pre-cise a definition.

Sefton-Green et al. highlight the challenges of critically evaluating the term cre-ativity and the tensions inherent in this process:

Key ideas about what creative learning might mean, and how itcould be defined and enacted are frequently contradictory andconfused. . . .The unremitting rhetorical glow to any use of theterm ‘creative’ may discourage critical evaluation. Equally,attempts to programmatise and normalise creative learning canlead to the very banality and orthodoxy of practice that so manyclaim to be seeking to remedy. (Sefton-Green et al. 2011: 1–5)

Despite these difficulties, it is important to conceptualise creativity explicitlyto avoid perpetuating myths and mystique about creativity that are unhelpfulfor developing creative writing pedagogy and other aspects of creativelearning.

So how can this be done? Creativity and imagination are frequently usedinterchangeably in the literature, and seldom differentiated in specific ways.While creativity as a concept is predominantly located in psychology as a fieldof research, imagination has been located in philosophical debates from Platoto the current time (Kearney 1988). The research discussed in this article isunderpinned by a Vygotskian view of imagination that synthesises creativityand higher level thinking. From this perspective, imagination is foregroundedas the act of mind that generates creativity. However, I use the two terms inter-changeably for the purposes of this article.

Grainger, Craft and Burnard (2006: 28) also foreground the cognitivedimension of creativity, defining creative learning as intellectual inquiry thatentails a significant dimension of ‘possibility thinking’. They conceptualise‘possibility thinking’ as involving both problem-finding and problem-solvingacross a range of subjects. Multiple variations on the question ‘What if?’ arecentral to possibility thinking, signalling a shift from learner identification ofproblems towards learner ‘engagement with problems’ (Jeffrey 2005). Craftplaces ‘possibility thinking’ at the heart of ‘little c creativity’ (LCC), a conceptshe developed to differentiate between the writing of young children inclassrooms and ‘the extraordinary creativity of the genius, in any particularfield’ (Craft 2001:46). Levels of originality and innovation therefore varyaccording to the type of creativity, its context and purpose. This conceptis particularly helpful in countering the elitist view of creativity thatonly certain gifted children can write creatively and that creativity is‘unteachable’.


English in Education Vol.48 No.2 2014 Permission to fly

Cremin and Myhill point out that despite shifts in creativity theory towards asocio-cultural model of creativity, ‘. . .defining what creativity is remains con-tested, however, particularly concerning whether creativity is a qualityrestricted to a few, and whether creativity is about a creative process or prod-uct’ (Cremin and Myhill 2012: 23). Debates centre around how to define it, itsimportance in educational contexts and more specifically the English/writingclassroom, its teachability and assessability, its relationship to the critical(judgement), whether it is about a process or a product, elitist notions of crea-tivity vs. more democratic views (Cremin and Myhill 2012: 24), its relationshipto cognition (Vygotsky 2004; Mendelowitz 2010), and implications of all thesedebates for the classroom

One of the problems regarding the conceptualisation of creativity amongteachers and in broader educational discourses is a tendency to dichotomisecreativity and higher level functioning. Such narrow understandings frequentlyresult in creativity being located outside the mainstream of learning in theEnglish classroom. Cremin and Myhill make a particularly valuable point aboutthe need to integrate critical judgement, critical thinking and the creative,pointing out that ‘judgement is important in both creative processes and crea-tive outcomes, and all creative endeavours require mastery of the tools of thetrade . . .’ (Cremin and Myhill 2012; 25). This has implications for both teachersand learners adopting a more critical stance in the creative writing classroomand is particularly useful in countering the dangerous and widespread misap-prehension that creative writing cannot be judged or critiqued. It also raisesthe issue of the uneasy relationship between imagination, cognition andeffect.

Vygotsky’s work provides a valuable lens for understanding this relationship.Vygotsky (2004) argues that imagination is the basis of all creative activity andis central to the production of new ideas and inventions in all areas of culturallife. He views imagination as being closely connected to human intellectualdevelopment and higher level thinking as well as emotional development.Thus Vygotsky presents imagination as a mental function that synthesises cog-nition and affect.

Vygotsky’s work also provides a model for understanding the process of imagi-native/ creative activities. He differentiates between two types of human activi-ties that have significant implications for human survival as well as foreducation. The first type of activity is reproductive, closely linked to memory.Such actions do not create anything new but are based on the repetition ofsomething that already exists. The second type of activity is creative or combi-natorial. This entails the creation of new images or action, the creative rework-ing of past experiences to generate new ideas and behaviours. Vygotskyargues that this capacity for ‘creative reworking’ is essential for human adapta-tion to change and new experiences. His distinction between reproduction and‘creative reworking’ is highly significant in a South African context where writ-



ing in primary schools is frequently an exercise in reproduction rather thanauthorship and ‘creative reworking’ (Heugh 2000; Hendricks 2005).

Creating classroom environments of imaginative possibilitiesThe discussion so far has conceptualised creativity/imagination in relation tocognition and affect. However, it is necessary to now consider the practicalimplications of this discussion for establishing classrooms of imaginativepossibilities.

Cremin and Myhill argue that we need to establish classroom environmentsthat facilitate suitable conditions for creativity and writing. They distinguishbetween creative writing and creativity and writing, the latter term being theone that they find more favourable as it is broader and suggests creativityacross writing genres. They argue that the following element might promotecreativity and writing in the English classroom:

Writing classrooms should be playful, risk-taking and experimen-tal, allowing young writers to have ‘failed’ attempts becausethrough those attempts they have been pushing the boundaries oftheir own use of language. . . . A creatively constructed writingclassroom recognises the authority and expertise of the teacherand will include explicit teaching of writing, but this occurswithin an environment of democratic participation, wherechildren’s voices are heard . . . and where they can articulatewith confidence their reasons for their writing choices.

(Cremin and Myhill 2012: 24)

Jeffrey and Woods (2003) have explored the relationship between pedagogicalstrategies and creativity. While their research is not focused specifically oncreative writing, their findings are relevant to this study. Notions of ownership,relevance, innovation and control (i.e. being prepared to loosen control) werefound to be significant elements of creative pedagogy. A particularly interestingfinding was that much of the success of such pedagogies in fostering creativelearning will depend on the extent to which the pedagogy used is ‘inclusiveand co-participative’. Co- participative classrooms are defined as spaces where‘teachers and young learners explore issues, pose questions, identify problemsand possibilities together, and reflect upon their thinking and learning duringthe process’ (Craft and Jeffrey 2003, cited in Cremin 2006: 29).

The thread that connects the two different aspects of this article’s conceptualframework is the notion of freedom and imagination. This idea is best capturedby Vygotsky when he argues that imagination and freedom are inextricablylinked, and that one needs to have ‘inner freedom of thought, action andcognizing’ (Vygotsky 2004: 269) in order to imagine. However, in a writingclassroom context one needs to find a balance between unlimited freedomand excessive structure. This article attempts to find that balance by



developing a concept of structured freedom that facilitates intellectual andaffective engagement; structure that opens up possibilities of learners’ cognitiveand imaginative engagement rather than structure that invites replication(Mendelowitz 2010). In the same vein, McCallum (2012: 68) argues that creativ-ity and constraints can be interdependent rather than oppositional.

Having provided a brief conceptualisation of imagination and imaginative/ cre-ative writing pedagogy, I now turn to the research context and the case studyof the two teachers’ conceptualisations and enactment of imaginative writingpedagogy.

Research methodology, context and participantsData for this article is drawn from a larger study of five Gauteng teachers. Ihave selected two teachers, Fiona and Debby, whose different conceptualisa-tions of imaginative writing translate into contrasting classroom discourses andpedagogies. I conducted in-depth interviews with Fiona and Debby about theirwriting histories, their views of imaginative writing and their imaginativewriting pedagogies, followed by two week cycles of observation of their Gradeseven English classes. The combination of interviews and observations enabledme to create a comprehensive case study of the two teachers’ conceptualisa-tions of imaginative writing pedagogy, and their espoused and enactedpractice. I also collected and analysed samples of learner writing and therelationship between teachers ‘pedagogies and learner writing will beaddressed in a forthcoming article.

Fiona and Debby are both white female Grade seven English teachers(i.e. their students are twelve to thirteen). Fiona teaches at a private schoolwith a progressive ethos and history and while her learners come from diversebackgrounds in terms of their racial and linguistic profiles, most are frommiddle-class families. Debby works at a state school located in the suburbswhere English is an additional language for all the learners and most learnerscome from working-class families. Hence the two teachers face differentinstitutional constraints.

Both teachers have predominantly negative memories of writing at school.Fiona was required to write on arbitrary topics in a very controlled and struc-tured way, using words and phrases per paragraph, provided by the teacher.Debby’s memory of school writing was dominated by images of fear andsilence. She has only one specific memory of school writing which entailedwriting an essay about stormy weather. Both teachers were subjected to a con-trolled writing pedagogy which was endemic in South African schools in the1950s and 1960s. There were limited, if any, possibilities for personal engage-ment with the writing process. Yet both teachers overcame these negativeexperiences and developed more creative approaches to teaching writing intheir own classrooms, to different degrees. They both encountered at least one



significant role model who offered alternative pedagogical possibilities. Debbywrites poetry in her spare time while Fiona does not engage in creative writingoutside of the classroom, regarding herself as a ‘factual writer’. Yet, as theclassroom data will show, Fiona takes great pleasure in eliciting creativeresponses from her learners to the extent that teaching becomes a creative actfor her.

In the sections that follow I analyse data from the interviews and classroomobservations with the following questions in mind:

i) How do the teachers’ conceptualisations of imaginative writing, classroomdiscourses and pedagogies interact to create classroom sites of creative possi-bility, impossibility or limited possibility?ii) What are the elements that constitute a classroom of imaginative possibili-ties? What are the elements that undercut imaginative possibilities in the class-room environment?

Fiona and Debby’s conceptions of imagination and imaginative writingGrainger et al. highlight the importance of teachers using ‘conscious creativetalk’ in creating a classroom environment conducive to imaginative work(Grainger et al. 2005: 164). In a similar vein, Christie emphasises that classroomdiscourses are not simply about the use of language but also about the shapeand pattern of activities. She argues that there is a relationship betweenclassroom discourses and the kinds of texts learners produce (1984).I am interested in the discourses that teachers used in the interviews toconceptualise imaginative writing and how these are enacted in the classroom.In the context of this study, these may include enabling/deficit discourses(discourses that highlight teachers’ positive or negative perceptions oflearners’ abilities) as well as ‘conscious creative talk’ (discourses that valueimagination).

It became clear in the interview that Fiona values imaginative work and puts alot of energy into devising effective ways of eliciting creative work from herlearners. Her enthusiasm for teaching writing is evident in her response to myquestion about the purpose of teaching writing.

I don’t write creatively for myself but I can get my children towrite creatively. I really can. And I love it. And they know it.And that love of it gets passed on to them.

Fiona’s focus is on creating a learning environment where learners can dis-cover their own voices, and ‘find’ ways of articulating meaning. Although inthe rest of the interview and in my observation of her lessons it is evident thatshe has a very clearly formulated pedagogy, she does not attribute the successof her creative writing classes to her pedagogy. Fiona suggests that it is her



belief in the importance of creative writing and her love of the children’s writ-ing that is responsible for her learners’ success.

Deficit/enabling discourses are commonly thought of in relation to teachers’perceptions of learners. What was most striking about the interview was Fio-na’s consistent use of enabling discourses in relation to both her perceptionsof learners’ abilities, and in relation to her capacity as a teacher to elicit crea-tive writing from the learners. The connections between her convictions aboutthe importance of imaginative writing, her passion and confidence emerged asbeing highly significant.

Fiona’s approach (extrapolated from the description of her espoused practice)includes an overarching framework of structured freedom. She uses threepedagogic strategies which enable structured freedom: negotiated scaffolding(Richardson 1994), modelling, and collaboration between learners and betweenlearners and teacher. When Fiona speaks about her focus on structure, her focusis on genres and language, conventions and crafting. All of these elements areframed by an enabling discourse, one which applies to both Fiona and her learn-ers. These elements form part of a discovery, process-oriented approach toteaching and learning. Hence, the socio-cultural environment and its resourcesare considered important in her formulation of imagination.

The interview with Debby provided an interesting contrast. While Fionaexpressed her conceptions of imaginative writing through detailed descriptionof her pedagogy – Debby was more discursive; she provided detailedconceptualisations of imaginative writing but was somewhat vague about herpedagogy.

When I interviewed Debby, she was surrounded by piles of learners’ booksand proudly showed me various examples of learners’ writing. She also spokeenthusiastically about a recent prompt-based creative writing task that hadgenerated exciting writing. However, she referred to her writing pedagogy asessentially a hit-and-miss process. She is not sure which ‘ingredient’ makescertain tasks work better than others.

Debby articulated three major reservations about learners’ capacities to writeimaginatively:

So to try and teach young children to write creatively is very diffi-cult and not that successful because they haven’t got the experi-ence to draw from. So there are very, very few really born writers.

Debby is thus suggesting that teachers are unlikely to teach creative writingsuccessfully to children, as they are not developmentally ready for this kind ofwriting. In addition to this age-related limitation, Debby takes an elitist posi-tion on writing skills, arguing that creative writing is an innate talent that one



either has or does not have. She also expressed, over and above that, adeeper belief that even if children could develop their imaginations easily theeducational benefits are limited to escape and enjoyment. There seemed to bea tension between Debby’s pride and enthusiasm about the learners’ writingand her reservations about their capacity to write imaginative stories. In asimilar vein two juxtaposed discourses ran through the interview: that of thepassionate, committed teacher who really believes in her learners alongside adeficit discourse.

Debby’s elitist position indicates that she views writing and imagination asindividualistic with skills and inspiration located internally rather than in thewider socio-cultural environment. This relates to her view of her own writingas a private and solitary pursuit as well as being an outlet for her emotions. Inthe section that follows I show how Debby’s conceptions of imaginative writ-ing translate into her classroom practice.

Debby’s lessons: journey into spaceOver the two-week observations of Debby’s English lessons, a range of readingand writing tasks were covered. She was nearing the end of an extendedtheme on space. This culminated in the learners writing a story about anencounter with a spaceship. The analysis that follows will focus on the spacestory and the subsequent feedback session (one double lesson of an hour anda half-hour single lesson).

Summary of lessonsAs the children enter the classroom, Debby tells them that today they can sitanywhere. There is also a blank piece of paper on each desk. Once the learn-ers have chosen a desk, Debby plays atmospheric music and asks the learnerssimply to listen carefully. When the music is finished she asks the learners‘What do you think?’ Then she plays the music again and this time she pro-vides the learners with a prompt as they listen.

D: Now we’ll listen to it again. As you are listening to it, imagineyou see a spaceship coming towards you. It gets closer and closer.Listen with your eyes closed.

The strange music plays again, transforming the classroom into a magicalspace. Debby explicitly encourages learners to retreat into their imaginationsand leave everyday reality behind by concluding ‘Now we’re in space.’When the music is finished, Debby briefs them on their writing task indetail. Learners spend the period writing. Each learner then shares his orher story with a partner. Subsequently three learners are invited to read theirstories to the class. The teacher responds to each reading with a brief posi-tive comment. Finally, all learners submit their drafts to the teacher at theend of the lesson.



Detailed discussion and analysis of lessonThe strength of Debby’s pedagogy is her creation of atmosphere and her useof an exciting trigger to generate learners’ imaginative writing. Her special rear-rangement of the class illustrates the notion of creativity as a letting go offamiliar routines in order to see and think from fresh perspectives (Koestler1964). Her commitment to teaching is evident even in her selection of music:her son composed the piece with this lesson in mind. She uses a discourse ofimagination as individual freedom as she sets up the task, encouraging learnersto discover their internal resources.

You will now write a story about something from outer spacecoming towards you. It doesn’t only have to be a machine. Youcan create anything . . . set your mind free.

However, this imaginative discourse is rapidly undercut by the instructions thatfollow as illustrated in the extract from my fieldnotes below:

‘I would like you to use one simile in this story.’

Debby then gives an example of a simile: ‘As green as an apple;as high as the sky.’

Debby continues: ‘And I’d like you to use one metaphor if youcan. And use personification . . . but don’t use too many. I’mgoing to put on a CD while you write. . . . I’ve given you an intro-duction but you can use any introduction you like. I don’t wantto see anyone thinking . . . you write. You have some good ideas.’

Debby hands out the task brief, which reads as follows:

‘As you were looking at the stars through a telescope you saw aspaceship coming towards you. It got closer and closer . . .Complete the story.’

Below the task brief is a large drawing of a telescope and stars.

The class is quiet. They seem interested by this task. They arereading their briefs.

Competing discourses are evident in the extract from Lesson 1. On onelevel, in keeping with the atmosphere of the lesson so far, Debby is tryingto create an ‘in-between space’ (Dyson 1997:14) without constraints. Shedraws on the discourses of imagination, closely aligned with notions offreedom, choice and the outer limits of possibility (‘You can create anything. . . set your mind free.’ ‘You can use any introduction you like’). Sheimplicitly draws on Sartre’s version of imagination as freedom anddetachment from reality (1972). But alongside this imaginative talk is a moreprescriptive and technicist discourse as the number and type of images areprescribed. There is also a mismatch between the ‘freewriting’ approach(‘I don’t want to see anyone thinking . . . you write.’) and the expectation



that learners will incorporate a set number of similes, metaphors andpersonification.

Feedback on space storiesWhen the three learners read their stories aloud to the whole class, it becomesclear that there is not a culture of learner participation. Debby makes com-ments such as ‘lovely story’ ‘very nice’ but there is no modelling and reflectionon what elements of the writing make it a ‘lovely/ very nice story’ in relationto the genre and purpose of the text. The few learner comments made inresponse to Debby’s question ‘Did you enjoy it?’ seem to mirror Debby’sgeneralised comments (‘very nice’).

A few days later, Debby hands back their drafts and uses the opportunity toconduct an editing session. However, she seems to conflate editing and proof-reading, and the focus of the session is on correction of surface errors thatrecurred across all the drafts: tenses, long and unwieldy sentences, linkingwords at beginning of sentences rather than the middle. The list goes on butwhat is conspicuously absent from the list is the relationship between lan-guage, imagery and creating an imaginary world in convincing and compellingways. The message that students ultimately get is that imaginative writing isreally a sugar-coated grammar lesson. While it is valuable to deal with gram-matical errors and structures in the context of learners’ writing, imaginativewriting should not be reduced to technicalities. But there is more at stake here.The imaginative discourse that Debby used to introduce the space writing taskhas been undercut and replaced by deficit and prescriptive discourses. Whilelanguage is a powerful tool for imagination, it is cut off from imaginative possi-bilities in this instance. Instead the feedback is framed by deficit discourses oflanguage teaching as fixing something broken, gaps and errors rather thanpresences. I thought it a missed opportunity that no inspiring examples oflearners’ writing were used to illustrate what is possible.

The word ‘wrong’ is used three times in the first five minutes of the lesson,reinforced by a cluster of other related words throughout the lesson such as‘big mistake’, ‘correct’, ‘error’ all of which are to be remedied by the discourseof instruction through a cluster of words such as: ‘Don’t’ (twice), ‘Stick to. . .’,‘keep’, ‘watch’. This illustrates Myhill’s argument that grammar ‘has negativeconnotations, often implying an outsider view of English teaching, and carryingassociations of control and blame’ (2005: 78) while the term ‘knowledge aboutlanguage’ carries more positive connotations, possibly implying ‘insider –knowledge’. This construction of learners as outsiders in Debby’s class is rein-forced by her reference to the learners as English additional language speakerwho struggle with English:

If you struggle with English don’t write long sentences . . . you getyour meanings all muddled up and I can’t understand what’shappening.



It is important to note that Debby’s focus on editing stories as error correctionis symptomatic of a broader problem. Myhill argues that one of the obstaclesto using grammatical knowledge to teach writing effectively is the persistentconceptualisation that the relationship between grammar and writing ‘centresupon error’ (2005: 78).

Paradoxically, one needs to think about creativity and constraints simulta-neously. As McCallum points out, excessive focus on rules when writingrestricts the creativity that is generated by ‘the interplay between thought andwriting’ (McCallum 2012: 67). However, he concedes there is a need for certainkinds of constraints and that students can be guided to become good writers‘within constraints in general rather than writing within the constraints of aparticular text-type’ (68). It is worth noting that McCallum’s conceptualisationof constraints is not about inviting students to replicate genre and languageconventions. Rather he uses an approach called ‘extreme re-creativity’ in whichstudents are required to write within unusual and highly specific contexts. Forexample, students write multiple versions of the same short text, each timeconsidering the narrative choices available to writers as they create somethingnew.

When exploring the relationship between creativity and constraints, it ishelpful to differentiate between different kinds of constraints. I thus extendMcCallum’s conceptualization of constraints to include a number of specificcategories such as enabling and disabling, productive or unproductive.While this relationship is never clear-cut and varies across contexts, this arti-cle begins to identify and explore the impact of different kinds of con-straints in Debby and Fiona’s classes. Debby’s lesson begins with enablingconstraints but ends with increasingly disabling constraints. In the case studythat follows, Fiona encourages learners to transform existing resources intosomething new within clearly delineated parameters and productiveconstraints.

Fiona’s lessons: rotting corpses and sludgy toesIn Fiona’s class a two-week lesson series focuses on learners writing their ownversion of The Minotaur. The basic plotline of the myth is that Theseus mustgo on a treacherous journey to confront and kill the monster. Learners mustimagine this journey and decide on a suitable ending. Learners have read theopening of the myth and they are in the process of writing their own versionsfrom the perspective of the protagonist, Theseus. Fiona has also encouragedthem to rewrite the myth in a more vivid style than the original. All thescaffolding activities are collaborative. The transition to individual writingonly happens towards the end of Lesson Five.

The lesson discussed is the third lesson which focuses on writing evocativestory openings in small groups. From a Vygotskian perspective, the task entailscreative reworking of the original text, drawing on the combinatorial imagina-



tion. The learners need to draw on their own personal experiences andemotions and reconfigure their ideas and experiences into a mythicaladventure. They also need to project themselves into the text. From acontemporary perspective, the task is an example of ‘re-creativity’ (McCallum2012: 54) as it requires learners to transform the text on their own terms andtake ownership of it, moving from ‘re-telling’ to ‘re- creating’ (ibid: 55).

The analysis that follows focuses on small group writing of an evocativeopening and whole class sharing (one double lesson).

Summary of lessonFiona tells the learners to write the opening lines of their version of the myth intheir small groups. She explains that the purpose of the exercise is to create avivid picture of that moment for an imagined reader. Fiona moves around theclassroom and interacts with the different groups. Some groups forge ahead, fier-cely debating their first sentence. One group is stuck and Fiona reminds them todraw on sensory language. Fiona reads one of the opening sentences to thewhole class as an example of a good opening. This group writing is followed bya whole class sharing session in which learners and Fiona comment on theirresponses. Learners are primed to listen for words and phrases that ‘make adifference’. There is a high level of participation and engagement.

Detailed discussion and analysis of lessonThere are various aspects of the lesson that are significant in terms of imagina-tive writing pedagogy and discourses. Like Debby, Fiona begins the lesson byinvoking imaginative discourses and motivating the learners by drawing onenabling discourses. These two discourses in action are illustrated by her taskexplanation:

F: I’m looking for the best your writing can be. Create a pictureof that moment. Don’t develop the story; you will have a chanceto do that later. Put yourself there as Theseus and imagine. Iwant you to read them out today (Lesson 3)

Fiona is using imaginative language explicitly, an illustration of Grainger et al.’snotion of ‘conscious creative talk’ (2005:164). She urges learners to ‘create apicture’, to ‘imagine’ and to inhabit the text. She challenges the learners tomake three imaginative moves: imagining the scene for themselves, using lin-guistic resources to create the scene, and enabling an outsider to imagine thescene. Learners are encouraged to make something present, through the use ofevocative language and to allow it to become present through opening theirimaginative capacities. This cuts to the crux of the imaginative writing class-room and one of the key problem solving tasks that teachers and learners face.

Fiona sustains this imaginative discourse throughout this lesson (and all theother lessons observed). One of the key ways in which she makes imaginative



discourse meaningful is through her use of multiple sources of ideas for writ-ing. By this I am referring to the fluid reading-writing relationship (reworkingthe myth) as well as the peer and teacher-based response system which aremodelled and practised in a number of contexts in her classroom and not trea-ted as a separate activity. Hence imaginative writing is constructed within asocio-cultural framework and various resources from the external environmentare utilised to create collaboration between the individual’s mind and the socialenvironment. John-Steiner and Meehan refer to this process as ‘creative synthe-sis’ (2000: 35).

The response process happens on three levels: through group work, teacherinput and whole-class sharing. Firstly, learners are working in groups, sharingideas and negotiating with each other about how best to write this para-graph. One group earnestly debates whether Theseus should fall off the cliffor break his ankle and which opening will be more engaging for the readers.This interaction indicates that the learners are making conscious choicesabout language and understand the relationship between constructing anarrative, linguistic choices and the potential impact on an imaginedaudience.

Secondly, Fiona interacts with the groups as she moves around the classroom,reminding them what the purpose is, commenting on what works and whatdoes not, as illustrated below:

F: Hey guys, listen to his beginning. I think this beginning isreally what I’m looking for. It’s well thought out, good adjectives.I can really feel this. I want to know what’s happening next.

Fiona then has a discussion with the one group. She confirms their decision touse ‘peered’ rather than ‘looked’ because it ‘sounds more frightening.’

Fiona uses learner texts as models as these develop. As she moves aroundbetween the groups, she finds a text that she wants to use as an example.There is an immediacy and fluidity about this, as learners see other work inprocess, very different from the fixedness and polish of models that are alreadypublished. Her writing classes illustrate structured freedom in action. Shemobilises learners’ understandings of structure in creative and cognitivelychallenging ways. Rather than simply getting learners to reproduce goodmodels, she challenges them to think about what makes the models work, andhow language is being used to convey meaning.

Fiona creates very clear parameters for the tasks and makes her expectationsclear, frequently reiterating them as she does in the above extract (‘I think thisbeginning is really what I’m looking for . . . well thought out. I can really feelthis’). There is not a sense that anything goes, nor any illusions or pretencesabout who holds the final authority in evaluating the stories. She creates a



contained, safe environment and within that there is much scope for thelearners to play, learn, and negotiate the construction of texts with each otherand with Fiona. This is not a case of teacher deciding for learners, but rathershe engages with their problem-solving and decision-making process.

Thirdly, there is a whole-class sharing session, and each group has a chance toread its opening paragraph aloud. After each reading, Fiona and learners vol-unteer comments about what sentence or phrase they liked best. The focus ison response rather than critical feedback.

F: Every single one I’ve seen, you’ve really been thinking aboutthe words. I’m very pleased about that. These will all be differentbecause you all write differently. When you listen, I want you tofind something . . . a word or phrase that really makes a differ-ence. Rose has said she’ll read.

Fiona then reinforces what they are looking for:

F: You are looking for words and phrases that you really like.

Rose reads.

Rose: The sounds faded but the creatures kept coming towards me.

L: Ms, I liked the opening sentence.

F: ‘In the deathly hush of the dark labyrinth.’ Well done – youreally created atmosphere.

Next learner reads and then Fiona and the class respond to thereading.

F: My favourite word there is encounter. You don’t know what’scoming.

L: I liked ‘in the midst’

Uyanda reads her group’s passage.

Uyanda: The soft hissing kind of sound. . . one rubbing againsthis foot.

One learner comments on building suspense.

The next group reads their description. In this text, Theseus ‘spunround’ coming face to face with ‘the leering face of a rottingcorpse’ and inevitably ‘his heart is beating in his ears!’

F: I won’t say what I liked best. You tell me.

L: ‘He felt the presence of something behind him.’

L: I liked the rotting corpse!



F: How did I know you’d say that? The first sentence is still mybest: ‘Peering into the watery depth. . .’

The next learner reads.

F: Don’t you want him to tell you what he saw? I like the way hewrote his sentences, long and then short. Anything else?

L: I liked the idea of hair standing up like thorns on a tree.

L: I like the sludge between your toes.

This extract from the lesson transcript illustrates various key features ofimaginative writing pedagogy in action. It is ‘co-participatory and inclusive’(Craft and Jeffrey 2003), the conversation moving fluidly between the learnersand the teacher. Fiona is clearly ‘journeying alongside the learners’ (Graingeret al. 2005) and models the discourse of personal response as a starting pointfor developing the metalanguage of more specific linguistic feedback. Learnersare guided to listen carefully for the selection of words, phrases and imagesthat engage the reader and create a tense atmosphere. Most of the learners’comments remain at the level of affect, i.e. they don’t give reasons for theirchoices and Fiona does not ask for these. However, Fiona makes linksbetween her personal response to linguistic choices and the creation of atense, frightening atmosphere (‘Well done – you really created atmosphere.’‘My favourite word there is encounter. You don’t know what’s coming.’) Shealso comments on sentence variation. She therefore illustrates to the learnershow cognition and affect can be integrated.

There is an awkward moment, which reminds one of the complexities ofwhole-group sharing and response. One group reads its paragraph aloud andthe members of the group have clearly not produced a strong piece of writingin terms of the criteria that Fiona has set.

Fiona comments: ‘Not lots of adjectives in that one. Not a bad thing. Very fac-tual, very clear. You don’t create an atmosphere but it’s very clear.’ However,when she asks for comments from the class there is a weighty silence. Thismoment is a reminder of the challenges of training learners to articulate con-structive criticism, especially publicly. Even Fiona treads carefully while offer-ing her response to the group, highlighting the challenge of balancing risk-taking and critical feedback with the creation of a safe, nurturing environmentfor writing. This is particularly an issue when learners are writing in an addi-tional language.

There is a gradual shift towards more specific learner feedback over the twoweek period. By the time Fiona gives them feedback on their drafts in LessonSeven, the discourse is a combination of affective response and more specificlinguistic comments.



The interaction between key elements of the imaginative writingclassroom: Comparison of Debby and FionaLooking at Debby’s three lessons in the context of the two weeks that Iobserved, some clear trends emerge about the relationship between her con-ceptualisation and enactment of imaginative writing pedagogy. Debby viewsimaginative spaces as separate spaces from the day-to-day routine of teaching,escapist and enjoyable but not as important as functional skills. This was moststrikingly reflected in the shift from ‘going into space’ and then landing ‘backon earth’ in the feedback session. These disjunctures between closed and openspaces in Debby’s lessons make sense, in relation to her conceptualisation ofimaginative writing as articulated in her interview.

While she expressed excitement about some of the creative writing producedby the learners, ultimately she believes that there are definite limitations to theimaginative writing development of learners. These she attributed to a range offactors such as age and innate ability. She doesn’t really believe imaginativewriting skills are teachable. Hence she does not explicitly teach learners howto craft imaginative writing but rather provides triggers for their individual cre-ative journeys into space. In the feedback component of Debby’s lessons, herfocus on form invites learner compliance with rules rather than creative experi-mentation. There is limited development of a shared metalanguage for reflec-tion on the learners’ stories as they emerge, and this reduces the possibilitiesfor integrating imaginative work with cognition.

There is consistency between Fiona’s ‘espoused practice’, her conceptualisa-tion of imaginative writing and her enactment of these ideas in the class-room. The enabling and collaborative discourses used in the interview wereenacted and sustained in the lesson observed, as was the predominance ofimaginative discourses. Fiona’s pedagogy and discourses worked together tocreate an environment in which imaginative writing was valued, encouragedand actively taught. Learners were shown how to ‘look’ at their own writingand each other’s through a shared metalanguage that was gradually devel-oped. An important aspect of this development was Fiona’s modelling of var-ious key aspects of the imaginative writing process in the classroom, alsocongruent with her interview representations. This modelling included herparticipation in the imaginative writing process, her feedback/response tolearners’ evolving writing during sharing sessions, and her use of learners’texts as examples.

The ‘in-between space’ always seemed to be prised open in Fiona’s classwithin her particular version of the imagination. Imagination was constructedas an integral part of learning, thinking and writing. There was spacefor ‘play’ and a freeing of the imagination, reflected in the classroomarrangements and interactions between teacher and learners, and betweenpeers.



ConclusionWhile Debby created a classroom environment of limited creative possibilities,Fiona created classrooms of unlimited imaginative possibilities. Both of theseoutcomes were powerfully shaped by the interactions between their conceptu-alisations and enactments of imaginative writing pedagogy. Debby’s ambiva-lence about teaching creative writing translated into lessons that set the learners’imaginations free up to a point, and then reined them in with prescriptive anddeficit discourses. In contrast, Fiona’s strong belief in the value of creative writ-ing and in the capacity of her learners to write imaginatively was sustained andreinforced in her enacted practice by enabling, imaginative and collaborative dis-courses. These beliefs and discourses were coupled with productive pedagogicalstrategies such as negotiated scaffolding, modelling and collaboration.

The notion of imagination and freedom loomed large in both teachers’ enact-ments of their pedagogies. While Debby provided learners with a prompt andinspiring music to generate ideas for writing, Fiona provided a text that the entireclass had to use as a basis for ‘creative reworking’ (Vygotsky 2004). Hence, itcould be argued that Debby (at the outset, anyway) provided learners with morefreedom for an individualised version of creativity than did Fiona, who struc-tured collaborative creative tasks where ideas about content and language circu-lated freely between learners, and between learners and teacher.

Ultimately, there cannot be one model for a classroom of imaginative possibili-ties. As indicated at the beginning of this article, the fluid nature of creativity sug-gests that it is desirable to generate a range of models and versions that teacherscan experiment with. Regardless of the approach used, it is critical for Englishteachers to find a balance between unlimited freedom and excessive structure.Finding this balance is a precondition for creating classrooms of imaginative pos-sibilities. The concepts of structured freedom and enabling constraints provide apotentially productive frame for teachers to develop an appropriate imaginativewriting pedagogy for their contexts between these two extremes.

English teachers could then apply these concepts in different contexts with dif-ferent classes and investigate the impact on learners’ writing. However, if Englishteachers and teacher educators are to take up this challenge, we will need to dosome careful rethinking about the relationships between creativity/imagination,cognition, affect and language. In particular, deficit views of writing as error cor-rection, must be challenged and replaced with an integrated notion of languageas a powerful tool for harnessing the imagination. This needs to be at the fore-front of the imaginative writing class in conjunction with affect and cognition.

AcknowledgementsI would like to thank the following colleagues for their insights, input and con-structive criticism: Yvonne Reed, Ana Ferreira, Denise Newfield, Kerryn Dixon,Leketi Makalela



ReferencesAndrews, R. (2008) Shifting Writing Practice in DCSF: Getting Going:Generating, shaping and developing ideas in writing. Nottingham: DCSF:4–21.

Christie, F. (1984) ‘Young Children’s Writing Development: The Relationship ofWritten Genres to Curriculum Genres’ in B. Bartlett and J. Carr (eds)Language in Education Conference: A Report of Proceedings. Brisbane mountGravatt Conference: Brisbane.

Craft, A. (2001) ‘Little c creativity’, in A. Craft, B. Jeffrey, B. and M. Liebling(eds) Creativity in Education. London: Continuum.

Craft, A. and Jeffrey, B. (2003) ‘Teaching creatively and teaching for creativity:distinctions and relationships’, Educational Studies, 30 (1): 77–87.

Cremin, T. and Myhill, D. (2012) Writing Voices: Creating Communities ofWriters. London/ New York: Routledge.

Department of Basic Education (2011) Curriculum and Assessment PolicyStatements: Home languages Grades 7–9. Johannesburg.

Dyson, A.H. (1997) Writing Superheroes: contemporary Childhood, PopularCulture and Classroom Literacy. New York: Teachers College Press.

Fitzgerald, B., Smith, L. and Monk, J. (2012) ‘Celebrating creativitycollaboratively: inspiring PGCE English trainees to teach creative writing’,English in Education, 46 (1): 56–69.

Freeman, D. (1996) ‘Renaming experiences/ reconstructing practice:Developing new understandings of teaching’, in D. Freeman and J. Richards(eds)Teacher Learning in Language Teaching. Cambridge: CambridgeUniversity Press.

Grainger, T., Goouch, K. and Lambirth, A. (2005). Creativity and Writing:Developing Voice and Verve in the Classroom. London/New York: Routledge.

Grainger, T.. Craft, A. and Burnard, P. (2006) ‘Examining ‘possibility thinking’in action in early years settings’ In: Symposium Proceedings: 4thinternational conference on imagination and education. Vancouver: SimonFraser University, Imaginative Education Research Group.

Hendricks, M. (2005) ‘Writing Practices in Additional Languages in Grade 7Classes in the Eastern Cape Province’. Unpublished Doctoral thesis,University of the Witwatersrand, Johannesburg.

Heugh, K. (2000) ‘Multilingual Voices – Isolation and the Crumbling ofBridges’, Agenda, 46: 21–33.

Jeffrey, B. (2005) Final report of the Creative Learning and StudentPerspectives Research Project (CLASP), a European Commission Fundedproject through the Socrates Programme, Action 6.1, Number 2002 – 4682/002 – 001. SO2 – 610BGE. Milton Keynes: http://clasp.open.ac.uk (accessed17.2.2014)

Jeffrey, B. and Woods, P. (2003) The Creative School: A Framework ForSuccess, Quality and Effectiveness. London: RoutledgeFalmer.

John-Steiner V.P. and Meehan T.M. (2000) ‘ Creativity and Collaboration inKnowledge Construction’, in C. Lee and P. Smagorinsky (eds) Vygotskian



Perspectives on Literacy Research. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press:31–48.

Kearney, R. (1988) The Wake of Imagination. London: Hutchinson.Koestler, A. (1964) The Act of Creation. London: Macmillan.McCallum, A. (2012) Creativity and Learning in Secondary English: Teachingfor a creative classroom. London/ New York: Routledge.

Mendelowitz, B. (2010) ‘The Elusiveness of Imagination: A case study of fiveteachers’ conceptions and enactments of imaginative writing pedagogy inGauteng classrooms’. Unpublished doctoral thesis.

Myhill, D. (2005) ‘Ways of Knowing: Writing with Grammar in Mind’, EnglishTeaching: Practice and Critique. December 2005, 4 (3): 77–96.

Richardson, P.W. ‘ Language as Personal Resource and as Social Construct:Competing Views of Literacy Pedagogy in Australia’ in A. Freedman and P.Medway (eds) (1994) Learning and Teaching Genre. Portsmouth, NH:Boynton/Cook Publishers Inc.: 117–142.

Sefton-Green, J., Thomson, P., Jones, K. and Bresler, L. (2011) (eds) TheRoutledge International Handbook of Creative Learning. London/ New York:Routledge.

Sartre, J.P. (1972) The Psychology of Imagination. London: Methuen.Vygotsky, L.S. (2004) ‘Imagination and Creativity in Childhood’, Journal ofRussian and East European Psychology. 42 (1): 7–97(originally published inRussian in 1930).

Whitney, A. (2008) ‘Teacher transformation in the National Writing Project’,Research in the Teaching of English, 43 (2): 144–187.



Documents

Permission to fly: Creating classroom environments of imaginative (im)possibilities