In my acting classes, I’m always asking my students to think about the “moments between.”  What is the thought that the character has between those two lines of dialogue?  How does the reaction to what just happened inform the thought process, and therefore what they choose to do or say next.  It’s one of my favorite parts of script analysis.  

But lately, I’ve been thinking about “the moments between” of my own life, lived in real-time. I am wondering if I’ve taken the same kind of time to process and be present to the moments between.  Actually, no, I know the answer…not as often as I should.  

I’m a list-making kinda gal.  I love a plan, a structure, a schedule, a checklist.  Always have.  There’s something very satisfying for me when I can mark that checkmark through the last thing on my list.  And exhale.

On last week’s blog I mentioned the crafting of our very structured schedule as one of the keys to being able to work and homeschool full-time.  And, we do need that structure – that framework – to be sure we meet our deadlines and get everything done.

But, one of the magical things we’ve learned on our (very beginner) homeschooling journey is what happens between the scheduled moments and the checklists of school and work projects.  We’ve found that some of the most beautiful moments of learning are actually between all the ones we planned, prepped and scheduled.

Truth be told though, my resistance to the moments between was real.  (I know it’s kinda strange for the acting teacher to say that.  But my left and right brain are pretty good rivals.)  That list-making, checkmark-making, “on to the next” part of me is very strong-willed.  

“We’ve got to stay on schedule.  We’ve got to get everything done.  No time for ‘dilly-dallying.’”

In the fall, as we assumed the role of “parent/teacher” to our sweet boys, I felt like a bit of a broken record.

“Come on, honey, we’ve got to stay on track. Stay with me. Stay focused. Let’s just get this done, and then you can play.”

To be fair, we were nervous.  If we got behind, would this whole thing fall apart around us in a heap of overwhelm?  Also, we were feeling the accountability part: If we’re doing this ourselves, we need to be sure we’ve done everything by the book…the Kindergarten and Third Grade Book, that is.  So that, at the end we could say, “check.”  And exhale.

But somewhere around the end of October, our eyes began to open.  Why were we needing to say “stay with me, stay focused” so much?  What was breaking the focus?  My eyes are welling up as I write this…because it was creativity, curiosity and connecting the dots that was breaking the focus.  And we, the arts professionals who love creativity, were quieting it so that we could “stay focused on the task at hand.” (Oh, how many times did I say that exact phrase.)  How did I not see it?

Here’s how it would play out.  We’d be on-track for our 30-minute lesson schedule, and then something in the lesson would spark another thought.  Both boys have a vivid imagination and my oldest especially can really let his thoughts take him places.  (How I love that about him.)  So, the thought would be sparked and it would get quiet for a few minutes.  

“Hey, there…where’d you go?” I would say.  “We’re on this question.  What’s the answer?”  

After a few seconds of prompting there would be a new thought or question from him.  “Have you ever seen…?”  or “Why is it that…?” or “That makes me think of….”

And my response:  “That’s cool, but let’s get back to the lesson.”  

“Well, can we look that up?,” he would ask. 

“Maybe later…but right now we’ve got to finish this,” I would reply. 

And, of course, we never looked it up. We were already “on to the next.”  We were missing the magic of the moments between.

Creativity, critical thinking, connecting the dots.  This is what we want for our kids.  Not just the tools to do it, but the courage to do it – and not just for our own kids, for all of us.  It’s the cornerstone of the work that I do in my acting and creativity classes that I teach for kids and adults with our theatre company.  It’s such an important skill and practice. But, the fear around it (especially as we get older) can be substantial.

And yet, here we were – with our own two children – not giving them the time and space to connect the dots, to think critically and creatively.  Not praising them for it and encouraging it, so that they would always love to think differently and create…and not ever come to fear it. Instead, we were just focused on getting the learning “done.” Which doesn’t even make sense…because learning is never done.

Yup, that hit us…and hit us hard.  It was time to practice some patience and start un-doing some of our old habits.  Now, when the boys get lost in thought, we try not to bark at them to stop. We try to let their minds wander for a moment.  We try to really listen when they speak again.  It’s usually profound.  It’s usually a question that we would have never thought to ask.  Or, they tell us with a gleam in their eye that they have discovered a connection between what we’re talking about now and something they’ve learned before.  Those are my favorite.

Now, you’ll note my use of the word “try” above.  Because, we’re still practicing.  We’re still falling down and reminding ourselves to slow down, listen and let them love learning.  Because isn’t that the point? 

Falling in love with learning….that’s actually what we want most for them.  Children are innately curious.  We don’t want to squelch that, in our well-meaning intention to educate them to the best of our ability. 

In our worry about “getting it done” and “going by the book,” we don’t want to miss out on the moments between.

And you know what?  These little wanderings off the path don’t take very long, after all.  Maybe two or three minutes pass by while their minds work out the thoughts they’re connecting.  We chat for a couple more about what they’ve come up with.  Sometimes, a quick google search to find out about topics we don’t know about, and then we’re back.  And nine times out ten, we still finish the lesson.  We still stay on track.  We still check off the last box on the curriculum list.

As parents and teachers, we’ve learned an important lesson, simply by letting our children’s curiosity lead the way. We’ve discovered that while the books and the assignments and structure are an essential framework – the scaffold that holds up the whole works.  The magic is in the margins. And, the love of learning is really what we cultivate in the moments between.  

Journey On.