Dear Creativity,
I am excited to report that my two-week Data Story Design for Influence course for high school students is going really well. For the most part, the students are engaged, learning, and designing cool solutions that combine the protection of special places from climate change through data story advocacy. Despite how hard it was to travel to this place with you and reach the second week, I am excited to see how the final products turn out.
However, there is one student who just drains my energy. As an introvert, it is already an endeavor to be in a classroom for three hours a day continually interacting with 30 human beings, but when one of those humans has more energy than the total room combined it is a recipe for depletion. This week I was excited to get back into my morning routine as I am almost in the part of the curriculum where the class runs itself. My morning walk required a beanie as there was a Fall morning chill in the air and it was nice to go with a little extra light instead of heading out in the dark. I was feeling great until I had to continually interact with a young human for three hours on end (talking, moving constantly, and unfocused). I realize that this class set him up for a lack of success, to begin with, but when you are an educator you have to always make lemonade out of lemons.
But this letter to Creativity is not about the small humans that seem to suck all the energy out of this introverted soul, but about the other side that counterbalances that fatigue. That is joy (Insert 80s Calgon bubble bath commercial.). It seems that joy can be found in a late evening nap and a beautiful meal with a shared bottle of wine.
This has me thinking, since Calgon is a thing of the past, what are the ways that we bring more joy into our lives?
You know, it’s funny how we’ve moved beyond those simple Calgon solutions, isn’t it? These days, joy seems to sneak in through the smallest cracks – like when I catch a student’s eyes lighting up as they enjoy a concept, or when I discover a perfectly ripe avocado in my grocery bag (small victories, right?).
I’ve noticed that joy often shows up uninvited, in those moments when I’m not desperately searching for it. It’s in the steam rising from my morning coffee, the way my beanie fits just right on these chilly morning walks, and yes, even in those precious moments of silence between class sessions when I can hear my thoughts again.
Perhaps the secret isn’t in finding new ways to bring joy in, but in learning to recognize it when it’s already there – hiding in plain sight. Like when a student who’s been struggling suddenly produces something brilliant, or the taste of that special glass of wine as its flavor profile bursts on the palette of my tongue, making even a simple meal feel like a celebration.
So, my dear Creativity, maybe the real question isn’t about finding more joy, but about creating space for it to find us. Sometimes that means setting boundaries with our energy-draining young friends, and other times it means simply being present enough to notice the joy that’s already dancing around us, waiting to be acknowledged.
Though I have to admit, a modern-day equivalent of that Calgon bubble bath wouldn’t hurt either. Perhaps a good podcast on the long commute home?’
Innovatively yours,
Dr. Abigail
