The setting is a school, in its broadest sense, and the speaker’s mind luses the phrase as Iosif Alexandrovich Brodsky noted that “Classical style will prevail as a school,” contrasting with the ordinary school visible through the window. It is where children aged six to seventeen arrive each morning at eight. The speaker surveys the school with blurred outlines, recalling buildings from the 1970s in districts that later adopted new identifiers—Perovo, Novogireevo, Medvedkovo, Sviblovo. These are campuses of three or four stories, all concrete and solidly recognizable. Many resemble a wide letter P in plan, with a gym in the middle. Other schools, designed in the 1980s, appear as expansive, low blocks, sometimes spanning an entire block. There are also brick, five-story schools from the 1950s. The speaker does not claim perfect familiarity with newer constructions, but the image is clear: a contemplation of what school means in general, how it lives in memory and in visual imagination.
Recently, a striking phenomenon surfaced. A son has been bringing a ukulele to school since the year began. He learned the chords, picked up songs, and played in the hallway during recess. Classmates, high schoolers, girls, and even teachers—ranging from veterans of fifty-plus years to the most effective instructors—approached this hobby with interest and warmth, encouraging him to share his musical world with the group.
Then a classroom teacher posted in the school chat: “We have a school, but no creative circle. The administration asks why a student would bring a guitar.”
Questions rise for the observer: answers to be offered, and perhaps discussions to be pursued with the administration in due time.
If a school is not, cannot be, or will not cultivate a creative environment, what is its purpose? Is not the aim to nurture talents in mathematics, literature, music, and the arts? The writer concedes that schools should teach what a child cannot easily master alone, such as reading Pushkin with an eye for what makes the work meaningful, even while a child will likely devour Harry Potter independently. Yet the question persists: can a school truly reject creativity as a core component?
The word “school” itself traces to a Greek term associated with leisure and study. If taking an integral is about balances between challenge and play, then perhaps the act of cultivating creativity—broadly defined—deserves genuine practice within schooling.
During a recent walk past another school that appeared typical on a different day, the front area had transformed into a ceremonial space. Students stood on parade grounds while a man with a megaphone led chants, urging patriotic slogans to be repeated in unison. This is not a critique of patriotism; the daily flag raising and instruction in what could be termed political knowledge are seen as legitimate components of a well-rounded curriculum. A consistent knowledge base across curricula, combined with exposure to diverse sources—from internet encyclopedias to independent bloggers and books offering alternate viewpoints—enables a student to sift through information, discard what is unnecessary, retain what matters, and make informed choices.
Yet could schooling broaden its perspective without losing a sense of national identity? Could it still nurture a space where creativity can flourish without becoming a mere sidebar? The inquiry persists: should the school avoid a one-sided narrative and instead offer opportunities for the creative circle to thrive?
Perhaps the answer lies in synergy rather than division. The author suggests that it is not only possible but desirable for a student to sing or strum during appropriate moments—perhaps during breaks rather than formal class time—and for other students to engage in chess, drumming, or other pursuits that unlock potential. Freedom to explore meaningful abstractions and creative endeavors can support problem-solving in mathematics and science by enriching the mind with diverse, stimulating activities. When creativity is given room to breathe, it can enrich the long-term usefulness of academic study, rather than undermining it.
The perspective presented here reflects a personal stance and may not align with every editorial position. It stands as an invitation to consider how schooling could better balance discipline with creative exploration, ensuring that every child has the opportunity to cultivate talents across the spectrum of human potential.
Attributed note: the ideas express a personal viewpoint and are not an editorial endorsement. For readers seeking a deeper discussion, consult related educational philosophy texts that explore creativity within schooling and the role of civic education in modern classrooms.