Daniel Whitaker

This was the first article I wrote as the MuseOn curator. It was one of those striking and heartfelt moments we encounter as educators.

I come from an arts and design background. I have always swum in the visual horizon of things. I got involved in education, in part because I am very fond of children and their capacity for play and discovery (or is it discovery and play?), but also because I feel that the newer generations will need to develop a number of creative solutions for very, very complicated challenges that are looming in the coming years. Challenges like overpopulation, pollution, and crisis over resources like food and water, as well as other issues such as finding solutions for employment in increasingly difficult scenarios.

My understanding is that these children need to adapt to this future. And, in my view, a perfect way to make these young students ready themselves is by having them exercise both their problem-solving abilities while at the same time developing and boosting their creativity.

This is where art and science come to mind. One technical, objective. The other is creative and (and frequently) subjective. Art can be a powerful educational tool, a means of transmitting a concept in a creative way, thus providing a platform to disseminate knowledge from many different fields, not necessarily related to art. But when used with science, art not only becomes a catalyst for learning but also transforms itself, through this contact. Science learns from art by seeing new opportunities through expanding research in ways unthought of before.

When I was invited to become the curator for the MuseOn space at EARJ, I was thrilled at the prospect of working in a space that had both infrastructure and a large/constant public to work with. The MuseOn is a versatile multidisciplinary exhibition and active learning space, that has a profound mindset focused on possible futures, and possible solutions based on Design Thinking and exhibitions that foment critical thinking and discussion. This space also provided a perfect setting for me to exercise this symbiotic relationship that art can have with other fields in education.

The MuseOn hosts four exhibitions a year, and the first exhibit I curated was called ‘ArtScience; Songs From Atoms’ (surprise, surprise). The title loosely referred to the string theory, where the structure of the universe is composed of minute, one-dimensional energy “strings”. The objective of the show was to foster the idea that science should allow transdisciplinary collaborations in order to make new connections and attract a greater public.  

Since the beginning of that exhibit, I had hundreds of kids come into the MuseOn during the show to see and participate in one of the many activities offered. The space also received many kids when they were in their recess or break times, coming in to explore one of the many miniature labs located here, and provided me with an opportunity so I could try one of these “learning through phenomena” moments. These visits naturally resulted in a lot of questions. Some of which were quite original, and portray the depth of thought and creativity in these young students. To this end, I created a ‘Question Wall’; a space where all really interesting questions are put. I frequently invite kids with good questions to write them there. This is a way of promoting thought, self-confidence, and empowerment, while at the same time showing that all questions are valid and that being right is not as important as expressing your thoughts or the way you understand something. So I sometimes see very provoking questions there like “How can we make a magnet for cancer”, or classic ones like “Why is the sky blue”. 

So, this is where Sarah comes in.

Sarah was a young second-grade student from Mr. Marcus’s class. While going about the school, on an errand, I bump into Sarah, who with her bright eyes asks me a very particular question:

“Why does metal let fire travel on it and not in plastic?”

A perfectly structured question for an inquisitive second grader! I was amazed at the depth of her reasoning and then asked her to go to the MuseOn and write that fabulous question on the Question Wall. But as it happens in many busy schools, I was unable to accompany her to the wall at that moment for her to write her question. It was only after a few days, when I visited her classroom during an activity, that the opportunity presented itself. She asked Mr. Marcus to let her go the the MuseOn and write her question, and he agreed.

When Sarah and I arrived at the wall, I gave her a marker and she proceeded to write her inquiry. When she finished, I asked her what she thought the best answer would be.

She considered this for a little while and answered:

“Because plastic and other materials that are not metal, explode, burn, and become liquid.”

I was completely baffled not only by her question but also by her answer. The analysis she made about thermal conductivity was impressive. As an educator, I aim to empower kids by listening and developing their own interpretations, which frequently are rich with creative content. And this was a classic example. Her interpretation…her question. Perfect.

Thrilled by her visit, I told her: “You know, I think that there’s a little scientist in your mind…” To which I added: “…and an artist as well”.

Upon hearing this, little Sarah replied:

“And together they make great things?”

My heart stopped. It took me a moment to recompose myself because of the greatness of what she had just asked me.

“Yes. And together they do make great things”, I smiled.

This was her contribution. And what she said to me, made me feel profoundly rewarded, making me thankful for being an educator. And as educators, one of the most gratifying things is to be able to learn from our students and show them that we are also listening to them, learning from them, instead of only having them listen to us. Her comment also showed me the result of precisely what I aimed to do here at the MuseOn: to tread along the boundary between art and science, to question if the boundary should even exist; to suggest that both fields can and should work together, in all their potential.

Just so in the end, we make great things.

Daniel Whitaker

MuseOn Curator