Why Do We “Unlearn” Creativity?

There’s a phrase you’ve probably heard before: “Kids are naturally creative.” It’s the kind of thing we say to explain a finger-painted masterpiece or a wildly imaginative story about a dragon that also happens to be a dentist. But what if that’s not just a nice thing to say—it’s actually a measurable truth?

Back in the 1960s, NASA—yes, the rocket scientists—wanted a way to identify the most innovative thinkers to help solve the kinds of complex problems that come with exploring outer space. So they reached out to a researcher named George Land. Along with his colleague Beth Jarman, the duo developed a test that measured divergent thinking—or the ability to look at a problem and come up with multiple, original solutions. Not just the one “right” answer, but many possible answers—some expected and others completely surprising.

The test worked well. But then Land and Jarman started to wonder—what happens to this kind of thinking as we grow up? So they decided to try something bold. They gave the same creativity assessment to 1,600 kids at age five. Then again when they turned ten. Then again at fifteen. And the results were, well, kind of heartbreaking.

At age five, 98% of the children tested at what Land called the “genius” level of creativity. That means they were constantly coming up with new ideas, seeing possibilities where others saw none, and challenging assumptions without even realizing they were doing it. But by age ten, that number had fallen to 30%. By fifteen, it was just 12%. And when those same children reached adulthood? Only 2% still registered at that genius level.

So what happened? Where did all that creativity go?

Land's conclusion was simple but powerful: we don’t grow into creativity—we grow out of it. Or more precisely, we unlearn it. The systems and structures we move through—school, work, life—often reward correctness, efficiency, and conformity. We’re praised for following directions and discouraged from “coloring outside the lines.” Over time, we internalize those messages. We start self-censoring, sticking to the rules, and second-guessing our instincts. And little by little, that wild, original voice inside us gets quieter.

That’s a pretty sobering thought—especially for those of us in education.

But here’s the hopeful part. If creativity can be unlearned, then it can also be protected. It can be nurtured. It can be kept alive in the right environment.

This is exactly why I’ve said before that I prefer the phrase creativity and innovation over acronyms like STEAM. Acronyms tend to slice things into categories: science here, art over there, math in its own box. But in real life, creativity and innovation don’t care about boundaries. They show up where ideas collide, where someone sees a connection no one else saw before. That’s what we should be aiming for. Not just producing students who can pass the test or follow the rubric—but students who can imagine a better way to do things. Students who question assumptions, remix old ideas, and aren’t afraid to try something new, even if it doesn’t work out the first time.

Schools like ASMSA were founded on that idea. Not just to help smart kids do well in school—but to create a place where thinking differently isn’t just accepted, it’s expected. Where creativity isn’t seen as a bonus skill, but as part of the foundation of deep learning.

So the challenge for educators is this: how do we stop the unlearning before it starts?

Well, part of it is simply recognizing how quickly the spark of curiosity can be extinguished. It’s not always loud. Sometimes it happens in tiny, quiet moments. A creative answer marked wrong because it wasn’t in the key. A student being told their idea is too ambitious, too weird, too different. A classroom that prioritizes speed and correctness over process and wonder. None of these are malicious. But stacked up over time, they send a clear message: play it safe. Stay inside the lines.

And if we’re not careful, that message gets received loud and clear.

That’s why schools have to be deliberate in making space for students to think out loud, to take intellectual risks, and to make mistakes without shame. It means giving just as much praise to the student who tried something bold and didn’t quite get it right as we do to the one who nailed it on the first try. It means designing learning environments where curiosity is the currency—and where students know that their imagination has value.

It also means educators modeling that mindset ourselves. Being open to new ways of teaching, new technologies, new kinds of questions. Being willing to say “I don’t know, but let’s find out.” That’s not just good teaching—it’s leadership by example. Because if we want students to embrace creativity, they have to see that we value it, too.

We talk a lot about preparing students for the future, but the truth is that we don’t know exactly what that future will look like. What we do know is that creativity and innovation are among the few things that will always be in demand. Because they’re not just soft skills; they’re survival skills.

So maybe the real goal of education isn’t to fill students with knowledge, but to help them keep something they already have: the spark of imagination, the courage to dream, and the willingness to try. Because every five-year-old has it. The question is—what are we doing to make sure they still have it at fifteen? Or at twenty-five? Or at fifty? Creativity doesn’t have to fade. But keeping it alive—that takes intention.

And maybe a little less unlearning.