Theodore Roethke’s “The Waking” has permeated my being since I first came across the poem in 1967. It expresses much of what lies at the heart of my educational journeys, as a student and as an educator. Most of my educational writings quote a line or two from this poem, alongside the use of the word, “haptic,” as I vividly recall Lowenfeld’s deep study of how children perceive and present the world through their known experiences in Creative and Mental Growth, a book first published in 1947 and has undergone many editions since (15, at this time).
It was 1971 when I first came across Lowenfeld’s work, when I successfully completed an independent project at SFU as I explored pedagogy for the development of creative capacity in an art module of my professional development program. His work changed me as an individual: I gave myself permission to believe that not only could I create, but I could also teach and inspire others to believe they could create. His work changed me as a teacher: I refused to present anything close to a sheet of paper with shapes for students to color in; they were to develop and design their own shapes. As their teacher, I would watch carefully to see how they perceived the world, so that I could better relate to the stage and manner with which they saw and interacted with the world. I would explain things differently to a student who would naturally draw details before outlines to be filled in than I would to a student who created shapes within which they would place details. The judgements that I made on their art was never “it does not look real enough” for I was exploring what they noticed and I would guide them to see more, to explore more.
Finally, Lowenfeld’s work challenged me to be a more observant parent and grandparent as I explored ways with my offspring for them to learn. Ultimately, the biggest success is that each one believes they can figure out how to accomplish any task they put their mind to.
Recent work with educational pedagogy revisits my thoughts that I just expressed, and …
The Waking
Theodore Roethke
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
I feel my fate in what I cannot fear.
I learn by going where I have to go.
We think by feeling. What is there to know?
I hear my being dance from ear to ear.
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
Of those so close beside me, which are you?
God bless the Ground! I shall walk softly there,
And learn by going where I have to go.
Light takes the Tree; but who can tell us how?
The lowly worm climbs up a winding stair;
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
Great Nature has another thing to do
To you and me, so take the lively air,
And, lovely, learn by going where to go.
This shaking keeps me steady. I should know.
What falls away is always. And is near.
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
I learn by going where I have to go.
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