Field notes on learning, play, and the thin places of imagination
I’ve been thinking about the role of mischief in learning — not the disruptive kind, but the gentle, creative sort that loosens the edges of a room. The kind that lets a child breathe differently. The kind that makes space for imagination to slip in sideways.
When I walk into a classroom wearing a bandana, children sometimes ask if I’m a pirate. It’s an unguarded question, full of curiosity and possibility. And in that moment, I have a choice: correct them, or join them. I usually choose the latter. “Yes,” I say, “I’ve just stepped off my ship,” or “I must have left my parrot somewhere.” They laugh, and suddenly the room shifts. The air becomes lighter. The rules of engagement soften…
The World Outside the Window 