PEDAGOGY FOR CREATIVE

PROBLEM SOLVING

This book provides students and practising teachers with a solid, research-based
framework for understanding creative problem solving and its related pedagogy.
Practical and accessible, it equips readers with the knowledge and skills to approach
their own solutions to the creative problem of teaching for creative problem solving.
First providing a firm grounding in the history of problem solving, the nature
of a problem, and the history of creativity and its conceptualisation, the book then
critically examines current educational practices, such as creativity and problem
solving models and common classroom teaching strategies. This is followed by a
detailed analysis of key pedagogical ideas important for creative problem solving:
creativity and cognition, creative problem solving environments, and self regulated
learning. Finally, the ideas debated and developed are drawn together to form a
solid foundation for teaching for creative problem solving, and presented in a model
called Middle C.
Middle C is an evidence-based model of pedagogy for creative problem solving.
It comprises 14 elements, each of which is necessary for quality teaching that will
provide students with the knowledge, skills, structures and support to express their
creative potential. As well as emphasis on the importance of self regulated learning,
a new interpretation of Pólya’s heuristic is presented.

Peter Merrotsy is a Mathematics educator who conducts research on gifted chil-

dren from backgrounds of so-called disadvantage. He is an active member of state,
national and international associations for gifted children and for Mathematics.
Recent high-impact writing on invisible gifted children and creativity are just part
of his over 150 articles and papers for journals, book chapters and conferences.
PEDAGOGY FOR
CREATIVE
PROBLEM SOLVING

Peter Merrotsy
The University of Western Australia
First published 2017
by Routledge
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and by Routledge
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Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business
© 2017 Peter Merrotsy
The right of Peter Merrotsy to be identified as author of this work has
been asserted by him in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the
Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced
or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means,
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or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in
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Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or
registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation
without intent to infringe.
British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data
Names: Merrotsy, Peter.
Title: Pedagogy for creative problem solving / Peter Merrotsy.
Description: New York : Routledge, 2017. |
Includes bibliographical references.
Identifiers: LCCN 2016050215| ISBN 9781138704251 (hardback) |
ISBN 9781138704657 (pbk.) | ISBN 9781315198019 (ebook)
Subjects: LCSH: Problem solving—Study and teaching.
Classification: LCC LB1590.3 .M47 2017 | DDC 370.15/24—dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2016050215

ISBN: 978-1-138-70425-1 (hbk)

ISBN: 978-1-138-70465-7 (pbk)
ISBN: 978-1-315-19801-9 (ebk)

Typeset in Bembo
by Florence Production Limited, Stoodleigh, Devon, UK
 For mom1 and dad2.

It gave us quite a start it did,

to see that you had flipped your lid,
And wasted all your precious time,
a-setting down your thoughts in rhyme . . .

1 Anna Frances Merrotsy (née Nelmes, b. 1923). The North American spelling is
intentional, as my mother hails from Chilliwack, British Columbia, Canada.
2 Peter Martin Merrotsy (1925–2015). Dad cut his milk teeth in Millaa Millaa, far north
Queensland, Australia.
CONTENTS

List of figures viii

Foreword ix
Acknowledgements xii
Further reading xiv

0 Prolegomena 1

1 Problem solving 9

2 On creativity 29

3 Creativity and problem solving models 56

4 Pedagogical strategies for creative problem solving 70

5 Creativity and cognition 92

6 Creative problem solving environments 126

7 Self regulated learning 149

8 Middle C 177

Appendix 209
References 210
Index 237
FIGURES

1.1 A representation of the initial and goal states of the Tower of

Hanoi problem with three disks (photos by Peter Merrotsy) 15
3.1 The Creative Problem Solving Framework, CPS v6.1™
(Isaksen, Dorval & Treffinger, 2011, p. 31, Figure 2.2, with
permission from the authors). 68
7.1 The Rubicon Model of motivation and volition (Gagné, 2010,
p. 89, Figure 2, with permission from the author and High Ability
Studies) 160
7.2 An octothorpe model illustrating Massimimi and Carli’s (1988)
relationship between skill level, challenge level and flow
(illustration by Peter Merrotsy) 163
8.1 The Tower of Hanoi problem with eight disks, showing four
stages of solution to illustrate the induction step (photos by
Peter Merrotsy) 205

∞
FOREWORD
Mark Runco

Luck was with me when I was asked about this wonderful volume. I have slowly
and carefully read this entire book – it is too good to read any other way. It provides
the reader with two of the most important things for fulfilling creative potential,
namely, methods and opportunities to practice.
The stated goal, which is nicely accomplished, is:

not to provide a how-to, step-by-step guide to teaching creativity and/or

problem solving [but instead] equip practising teachers seeking professional
learning opportunities and students in initial teacher education programs with
the knowledge and skills to approach their own solutions to the creative
problem of teaching for creative problem solving.

Merrotsy is absolutely correct that teachers should be one of the primary

concerns, around the world, when it comes to thinking about creativity. And this
could not be more true than it is today, with murmurs of a “creativity crisis” (or
several of them!) and resources increasingly scarce. Teachers are given less time
than ever before and yet are asked to accomplish more than ever. Too often
creativity is given the back seat and viewed as a low priority for the curriculum,
although at last it seems that decision makers are seeing the value of creativity.
Now they must look to reliable information about creativity. When all too often
recommendations about creativity, for education but also elsewhere, are based on
speculation or anecdote, the information herein is based on sound theory and
research. Teachers should read this book.
The view is both inward and outward. There is detail about self regulation,
which is a remarkably important concept for creativity, especially if you are
interested in education that makes a real difference. Self regulation is one of those
things that will allow students to learn not just how to do something, but learn it
x Foreword

in a way that they will take it with them. The impact of education is likely to
generalize to other settings rather than just being used in the classroom. The benefits
are likely to last, as well, which of course will also help the newly developed cre-
ative skills to be available to students, even after they graduate and are part of the
workforce.
The connection to theory and research does not keep Merrotsy from presenting
his ideas in a highly readable fashion. All the right qualifiers are there, too, so theory
or research that is suggestive but not entirely conclusive is treated as such. This
same approach is apparent when models of creativity, including systems approaches
and notions of Big C creativity, are described. These are indeed models: they are
representations of how things work. But a model is not a fragment of reality. It is
the scientist’s best attempt to describe reality, and sometimes to find explanations
as well.
There is recognition of the value of critical thinking. That may not surprise
educators reading this book, for critical thinking is a part of most curricula. Yet
critical thinking is sometimes inaccurately contrasted with creative thinking, as if
they are mutually exclusive. In actuality, more often than not, they complement
one another, and in fact a close examination of creative accomplishments and
achievements shows how they work together. Teachers must recognize this
complementarity – professional education for teachers should as well – and this is
clearly conveyed in this volume.
Another attractive aspect of this volume is that it does not make assumptions.
It is usually unwise to make assumptions, and those studying creativity are especially
cognizant of this. Research shows how assumptions can preclude creativity and
how the creative process often avoids ruts, habit, routine and assumptions. In that
sense Merrotsy is practicing what he preaches, asking questions of research findings
when he outlines his ideas for education. He even questions the assumption that
creativity can be taught! Not many authors would have the courage to write a
book about fulfilling creative potentials and then dare to question the assumption
that creativity can be taught.
Throughout the book there is care with the right language. Early on he refers
to the different ways of describing educational efforts and mentions “teaching,
encouraging, developing, supporting, thinking, cultivating, training, enhancing,
stimulating, fostering, helping to foster [sic], facilitating, promoting, improving,
growing, [and] incubating.” Each of these has been used when describing
educational efforts, but ambiguity and prevarication about how they are used by
many authors has led Merrotsy to wonder about and question the thinking behind
the phrase, “creativity can be taught.”
There is also good detail about the environments that will allow what I call
“the fulfillment of creative potentials.” While he does not devote a whole chapter
to culture and creativity, he often does draw from or cite idiosyncrasies of Australian
culture and Australian educational policy and practice. He must, since Australia is
a unique place, and theory and research both indicate that there are cultural
differences in how creativity is expressed and what it takes to optimally fulfill creative
 Foreword xi

potentials. Those creative potentials may be universal and shared by all humans,
but without a doubt there are differences around the world showing that creativity
in the East may differ, for example, from that in the West. What it takes to be
creative or to teach such that creativity is supported varies from culture to culture,
just as it does from age to age or grade to grade. This line of reasoning is apparent
when Merrotsy describes the needs of culturally and linguistically diverse students.
One last aspect of this fine volume must be noted. This is the attention given
to creativity as a form of social capital. This idea has taken different forms over
the years (such as creativity as a natural resource) and is quite popular today. It
deserves to be explored, as it is herein. The recognition of creativity as a resource
or capital will insure that appropriate investments are made, investments in the
form of research and the resources that educators and schools require to fulfill cre-
ative potentials.
Pedagogy for Creative Problem Solving is both accessible reading and sound
scholarship. It is a book for truly everyone interested in creativity.
Mark A. Runco
Editor, Creativity Research Journal, and
Distinguished Research Fellow, American Institute
of Behavioral Research and Technology, USA

∞
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

The written word does not carry with it the diction and accent of speech. If
it did, this book would be full of mondegreens due to the Australian twang
and drawl. As it is, I do acknowledge that, like Tom Collins (pseudonym of the
author Joseph Furphy, 1843–1912), my writing may be described as: “Temper,
democratic; bias, offensively Australian” (Collins, 1970, Foreword). For this I make
no apology.
On the other hand, some of the following people would undoubtedly want to
apologise for me (so to speak); in any case, I would like to publicly acknowledge
the contribution that each of them has made, one way or another, to the
development of my model of pedagogy for creative problem solving.
Dr Alf van der Poorten (1942–2010) introduced me to the work of Pólya.
From the earliest days of my involvement in the education of gifted children
and youth, Dr John Geake (1949–2011) always proved to be a true mathematical
mate.
In the formative stages of the development of my model, Dr Stephane Alberth
and Dr Kerensa McElroy were guinea pigs: both have since achieved remarkable
things with their creative problem solving abilities.
Lou Henzen moved me from doing creative problem solving in theory to also
doing creative problem solving in practice.
Richard Robinson showed that, at 4 am and after “bush bashing” (Rogaining
– the sport of long-distance, cross-country navigation) for 16 hours, it was still
possible to develop creative problem solving ability.
At propitious moments, Dr Michelle Bannister-Tyrrell (University of New
England), Dr Linley Cornish (University of New England), Professor Dr Heidrun
Stöger (Universität Regensburg), Dr Margaret Sutherland (University of Glasgow)
and Professor Dr Albert Ziegler (Friedrich-Alexander-Universität Erlangen-
Nürnberg) engaged me in professional persiflage.
 Acknowledgements xiii

Kevin Lamoureux (University of Winnipeg) listened and talked through central

ideas, and tried unsuccessfully to explain American so-called football to me.
Since learning to read while sitting on my lap as I was writing up the early
forays into my research, and through each phase of the development of my peda-
gogical model and this book, Alinta Merrotsy has always provided deep insights
and always proved to be a sharp critic.
Over the past five years while I was on supposed holiday from academic hair-
splitting, Conny Wilde has patiently endured my incessant albeit very slow writing,
something that she never expected she would ever have to do when we first met
in Prague in 1980.
I also acknowledge the following for permission to reproduce figures from their
publications.
Dr Don Treffinger and the Center for Creative Learning for permission to
reproduce Figure 2.2 from Isaksen, Dorval and Treffinger (2011, p. 31).
Dr Françoys Gagné and the editor of Higher Ability Studies for permission to
reproduce Figure 2 from Gagné (2010, p. 89).
If the reader would like to correspond with me about positive and constructive
criticism of my work, my email address is peter.merrotsy@uwa.edu.au. However,
any negative criticism or complaint may be submitted via the website www.claus.
com/postoffice/tosanta.php.

∞
SOME SUGGESTIONS FOR
FURTHER READING

Getzels (1964). Creative thinking, problem solving, and instruction.

Always seek out the classics.

Dacey (1989). Fundamentals of creative thinking.

The title is self descriptive: Dacey provides an excellent coverage of the basics,
and some more.

Sternberg (1999). Handbook of creativity.

Heavy going, but well worth the slog.

Craft (2005). Creativity in schools: Tensions and dilemmas.

You will not always agree with the author, but she will ease you into the debates
surrounding the western conceptualisation of creativity, such as how the “pedagogy
of creativity” is limited by policy.

Runco (2007). Creativity theory and themes: Research, development, and practice.
An easy to read textbook covering the current key themes, tempered by a solid
treatment of the supporting research.

Starko (2010). Creativity in the classroom: Schools of curious delight.

“Teaches for creativity”, and along the way shows how to bring “joy and
meaning to the human condition”.

∞
0
PROLEGOMENA

Experience modifies human beliefs. We learn from experience or, rather, we ought to learn
from experience. To make the best possible use of experience is one of the great human
tasks and to work for this task is the proper vocation of scientists.
(Pólya, 1954, Vol. I, p. 3)

Introductory remarks
This Prolegomena is written last, but has been placed here at the beginning because
of the predilection of academics to start reading a book at the References and then
to proceed from the back to the front. Following the Aztec culture, and the Pol
Pot regime, the counting for chapters starts at zero. This remarkable cultural
conception of counting brings to mind the well-known story, probably apocryphal
as I cannot locate a source for it, that Mahatma Gandhi was once asked, “What
do you think of western civilisation?” to which he replied, “I think it would be
a very good idea!”
The aim of this book is to propose an evidence-based model, which I call
Middle C, for teaching related to creative problem solving. As Pólya notes above,
we (should) learn from experience, and the experience called on as evidence to
support Middle C comes from my own experiences at the chalk-face and as a
researcher, and from the experiences detailed in over one hundred years of research
literature. Middle C does not aim to provide a how-to, step-by-step guide to teaching
creative problem solving, or creativity, or problem solving. Rather, my aim is to
equip practising teachers seeking professional learning opportunities and students
in initial teacher education programmes with the knowledge and skills to approach
their own solutions to the creative problem of teaching for creative problem solving.
Throughout the book I address this aim by developing three main interrelated
themes: theory, research and practice.
2 Prolegomena

As far as possible, I attempt to set these three themes within a historical

perspective. I also look to the writings of the key people who have made signifi-
cant contributions towards the theory and practice of creative problem solving,
always returning to their original documents. I look askance at the nature of
the empirical evidence presented by the researchers, and suggest that all too often
the results derived from research appear to be somewhat inconclusive. Perhaps
some authors have forgotten that “The plural of anecdote is not data” (source
unknown), or have muffed their mantra, “Data is [sic] not information, information
is not knowledge, knowledge is not understanding, understanding is not wisdom”
(with apologies to T.S. Eliot, Choruses from The Rock, and to Frank Zappa, Packard
Goose).
The three themes of theory, research and practice are developed, first, by an
overview of the history of problem solving and the nature of a problem (Chapter
1), and the history of creativity and how creativity is conceptualised (Chapter 2).
Then, the status quo of creative problem solving in educational contexts is uncovered
by exploring a few creativity and problem solving models (Chapter 3), and by brief
discussion of quite a few techniques and strategies for creative problem solving
commonly used in classroom settings (Chapter 4). The discussion of these
applications is followed by an examination of three big pedagogical ideas important
for creative problem solving: creativity and cognition (Chapter 5); creative problem
solving environments (Chapter 6); and self regulated learning (Chapter 7). With
this background firmly established, a model of pedagogy for creative problem solving
is presented in the final chapter (Chapter 8).
Before embarking on this endeavour, I would like to make a note on teacher
professional learning; to ask a difficult question (although it may not appear to be
so at first); and to reflect on another big issue that I ashamedly and shamefully
admit is not otherwise considered in detail in this book.

A note on critical thinking

Creative thinking and problem solving are two concepts, not necessarily independent
of one another, and just maybe essentially the same thing, that have very broad
appeal, particularly in contemporary western cultures. Many people, teachers and
laity alike, feel that the appeal is justifiable because the processes that describe creative
thinking and problem solving appear to underpin what it means to be human, and
that an understanding of human intelligence must include both of these important
concepts. However, rather than paying more than lip-service to creativity and
problem solving, say in the form of robust curriculum reform, one common response
from education systems has been to “train” teachers in the perceived or supposed
related art of critical thinking, and how to teach it.
I must say from the outset that such a notion of training to teach critical thinking,
and of training to teach creativity and problem solving for that matter, is quite
objectionable to me, and rather denigrating of the teaching profession. Tradespeople
are trained; professions are educated; teacher education, teacher learning and
 Prolegomena 3

teacher development are professional education, not training. In a recent submission

to the Teacher Education Ministerial Advisory Group, Universities Australia (June,
2014, p. 4) stated:

Teacher education no longer uses a training model. Like other professions,

the tools used to develop . . . a deep and broad skills base are many and
complex, and the practice of education embeds the benefits of research and
the critical analysis of evidence.

This criticism is by no means aimed at critical thinking or its place in the classroom.
As “critical analysis” is essential for teachers, so too is “critical thinking” essential
for students. And there is plenty of support for teachers to understand their
students’ thinking and how critical it might be, the most accessible still being the
very useful taxonomy of critical thinking dispositions and abilities by Ennis (1987).
Ennis’ colleagues went on to claim that we can, as a matter of fact, teach thinking
(sic), thinking skills, thinking and problem solving, critical thinking, critical thinking
dispositions and abilities, and intelligence (sic) (Baron & Sternberg, 1987). Of course
this immediately begs the question concerning the extent to which such things
can be taught, if indeed they can be taught at all.

Can creativity be taught?

Can creativity be taught? Presumably the answer to this question depends upon
what you think creativity is; nevertheless, the common answer in education circles
would seem to be a resounding “Yes!”
Some who cry “Yes” might do so because, they argue, creativity is not a normal
activity for people – it is not enough to be uninhibited and free – and so it has to
be deliberately taught. However, many educators who respond with “Yes”, those
at the chalk face and in the ivory tower alike, also hedge their bets and circumlocute
the question when they explain what they mean. Rather than talking about
“teaching”, the conversation soon drifts to encouraging, developing, supporting,
thinking, cultivating, training, enhancing, stimulating, fostering, helping to foster
(sic), facilitating, promoting, improving, growing, or incubating, perhaps referring
to creativity, or perhaps to creative thinking, or perhaps to creative problem solving
– and indeed I have found each of these verbs in the creativity literature.
For example, Torrance (1972) asked the more specific question, “Can we teach
children to think creatively?” From his analysis of 142 studies, most of which
involved participants who were no longer children (in fact, most were adults), he
felt only able to conclude that a particular training model had a reasonable “success”
rate on par with the effectiveness of “other disciplined approaches”. The discussion
of the extent to which the research on adults could be generalised to children was
left unstated. Even when addressing the related issue of the possibility to “develop
techniques to train for and to stimulate creativity” (Stein, 1974a, p. 10), Stein (1974a,
pp. 151–193) limited himself, unfortunately, to a treatment of the student’s social
4 Prolegomena

relationships with his or her teachers and class peers, and to some aspects of the
teaching situation such as school atmosphere, teacher attitude towards creativity
and towards students, other students’ attitudes towards creativity and towards the
individual student, and the nature of evaluation and how it is reported to the student.
Stein also pertinently noted the lack of creativity pedagogy in teacher education
programmes. Now, 40 years later, his comment is undoubtedly still valid.
Many authors have provided guides for teachers on such topics as: training
creative thinking (Davis & Scott, 1978); improving thinking and creativity
(Bransford & Stein, 1993); how fluency, flexibility, originality and elaboration
(“divergent behaviour”) derived from characters in children’s picture books may
guide curriculum planning and teaching (Meador, 1998); stimulating the
development of creativity in classrooms (de Souza Fleith, 2000); fostering creative
thinking, especially for “the gifted and talented” (Cramond, 2001); using fairy tales
to develop creative thinking (Flack, 2001); teaching for creative growth (Davis,
2003, 2011); and cultivating creativity (Tan, 2007a). Fasko (2001) reviewed the
research, up to the turn of the century, on the relation of education to creativity
in students, and on techniques for developing creativity. He concluded that some
research might have indicated a possible relation between creativity and learning
(and note my glyph)?|
During the noughties, several authors published advice or guides for teachers,
in which the emphasis had shifted from developing curriculum to the creative
attributes of the teachers themselves. For example, the tenor of the book Tan (Ed.)
(2007b) is directed at teachers to become creative, or to become more creative,
and in her foreword Tan (2007, p. xlvii) proposed that “To develop creativity,
teachers need to be encouraged to be creative, to support children’s creative
behaviour, and to foster creativity with wisdom.” This may be attained,
contributing authors said, through “constructive creativity” (Tan & Wong, 2007),
or by fostering “possibility thinking” at “the heart of everyday, lifewide [sic]
creativity”, through a “dynamic interplay between children and teachers” in a “richly
enabling context” (Craft, 2007, pp. 235–239).
Recent approaches to “teaching creativity” have returned to massaging the
curriculum, with some teachers preferring to weave creative thinking instruction
into the curriculum. Beghetto (2010), for one, called for “Establishing a common
curricular goal of developing the creative competence of children” (p. 447), but
he did wonder about “the connection between learning and creativity” (p. 459).
Piirto (2011), for another, has republished her Pyramid model, along with her five
core attitudes, seven “I”s and six more “I”s, and taken into account the interior
lives of teachers in order to re-skill them to embed creativity into the curriculum.
Quek (2009) specifically asks the question, “Can school children be taught to
think creatively?” and importantly approaches her answer from a (Singapore)
systemic perspective. She found that there was no formal “creativity policy”, but
rather “initiatives” (p. 9) in the form of numerous “creativity practices and
programs” (p. 52), which meant teaching independent learning skills, de Bono’s
Thinking Hats, CoRT, and “training teachers in thinking skills” (p. 53). In order
 Prolegomena 5

to “help foster creative thinking and an entrepreneurial spirit [sic] among the young”
(p. 180), “creativity, innovation and enterprise” were introduced in school
programmes, but linked to student ability and self reliance (p. 161). A certain
intolerance towards flexibility and diversity on behalf of the government and the
ministry of education was noted; even though schools implemented programmes
according to their comfort levels (“comfort creativity”), on the whole creativity
was inhibited by an “unwillingness to relax governmental control” (p. 182). Does
Quek in fact answer her rhetorical question? Probably not.
On the Australian scene, the Australian Association for the Education of the
Gifted and Talented (2008) reported that, between 1965 and 2008, 31 research
theses on creativity, including ten at doctoral level, were undertaken at Australian
universities. In my travels I have stumbled upon three Australian books on creativity
and education: two mixed-bags of offerings edited by Lett (1976) and by Poole
(1980); and one (small) book by Forster (1998), who asked teachers to think about
creativity, and to challenge learners, “especially in encouraging them to think
creatively” (p. 3). And an obituary for David Cohen (1930–2014) drew attention
to his creativity test, How Creative Are You? Cohen’s ideas on providing opportuni-
ties for creativity in Science teaching appeared in Cohen (1968), and his analysis
of the creativity measurement theory and research was presented in Cohen (1972),
where he also all too briefly outlined the development of his creativity instrument.
My university library database search engines were not able to locate a copy of
How Creative Are You? or any subsequent research articles. Cohen (1972) gave a
hint of its nature, and tantalised with a sample of two test items: use given letters
to produce pairs of words that make sense together; and use a given shape (that
looks like a three-quarters unfolded paper clip) to produce interesting drawings or
designs.
Without pointing the finger at anyone in particular, it is probably reasonable
to say that some authors pose the question “Can creativity be taught?” then succeed
in dutifully avoiding to answer the question whatsoever.
But are there any nay-sayers? Baer (1993) was brave enough to dispute the idea
that it is possible to teach children to be creative, where teaching is understood in
terms of a training model and where creativity is understood in terms of a divergent
thinking model. A few years earlier, Pendarvis, Howley and Howley (1990, p.
183) stated that “ample research shows that children’s scores on creativity tests can
be improved rapidly”, but added the caution that “whether this is due to the ease
with which creativity can be trained, to the efficiency of training programs, or to
the inadequacy of creativity tests has not been settled”. Baer (1993) suggested that
because of inherent difficulties in divergent thinking models of creativity (and, hence,
tests of creativity), the general understanding of creativity depended on the
development of low-level models of the creative process. Runco (2007, citing his
own research from 1993) believed that it is only a matter of refining the test
conditions before divergent thinking tests become valid indicators of creative
potential. Such claims and counter-claims immediately beg the question, “What
is it that is really being taught when we say that we are teaching creativity?”
6 Prolegomena

Amidst all of this equivocation, there is a tacit and general understanding that
every individual has the potential to be creative (Beghetto, 2007), or all students
have the potential to be creative (Tan & Wong, 2007) – and note that there is a
difference between these two statements. What teachers do is maximise student
“creative potential” (sic) (Beghetto, 2007).
Can creativity be taught? I strongly suspect not, and the reasons for my suspicion
will unfold in the following chapters. However, all is definitely not lost: what we
can do is create the right kind of teaching and learning environment that will equip
each student with the skills and ability to express his or her creativity, and a
wonderful medium in which such creativity may be expressed is creative problem
solving. To that end, this book will build and present a model of pedagogy for
creative problem solving.

Creativity and culture

A quick glance at the Contents will reveal that there is no chapter dedicated to
the topic of creativity and culture. This is not because I think that this topic is not
important; on the contrary, the relationship between creativity and culture is the
most important topic leading to an understanding of creativity (and, some would
say, to an understanding of culture), and should underpin all research and teaching
related to creativity. Rather, the topic of creativity and culture is the one I feel
least proficient in discussing (and the reason for that, gentle reader, is not just because
I am an Australian!). Hence, here I offer a few brief but important reflections on
creativity and culture, acknowledging as I do so that my understanding is deeply
informed by George Chaloupka (1932–2011), acclaimed expert on Australian
Indigenous rock art, and by Kevin Lamoureux, University of Winnipeg, Manitoba,
Canada.
There is little doubt that negative attitudes and low expectations by teachers
towards culturally diverse students have a detrimental effect on academic engage-
ment and performance, and on affective development (Kostenko & Merrotsy, 2009;
Merrotsy, 2008; cf. “the soft bigotry of low expectations”, Gerson, cited in
Associated Press, 2006). For example, teacher lack of competency with Indigen-
ous culture, traditions and languages (including Aboriginal English and creoles),
and teacher lack of interest in families, student abilities and talent development,
address neither the intellectual needs nor the affective needs of their Indigenous
students.
Initial teacher education, and ongoing teacher education in the form of
professional development and professional learning, could and should well address
this issue. However, rather than being content with an awareness of different cultures
and an understanding of learning needs and so-called cognitive styles of culturally
diverse students, a stronger model would more appropriately see diversity as a benefit,
would honour differences, and would interact knowledgeably and respectfully with
people from other cultures. Such “cultural proficiency” (Lindsey, Roberts &
CampbellJones, 2005) is a necessary precondition for building successful partnerships
 Prolegomena 7

within and outside the community. In that context, cultural capital becomes a
platform on which social capital may be developed.

Cultural capital
Kostenko and Merrotsy (2009) drew a link between cultural capital, social capital
and human capital. This is also reflected in five of the recommendations made by
the Minister’s National Working Group on Education (Department of Indian Affairs
and Northern Development Canada, 2002), which emphasise social relationships
enabling people from minority cultures to access a pool of resources and supports
and build social capital. First, include cultural minority language, culture and
knowledge systems in all funded education programmes. Second, provide resources
for the development of parent, family and community capacity building that
incorporates other cultural understanding. Third, make schools and educational
institutions parent- and community-friendly places to promote the development
of school partnerships with family and community. Fourth, initiate community-
based strategies for early childhood development. Fifth, substantially increase the
number of cultural minority primary and secondary school teachers. Regarding
this last point, it should be remembered that many cultural minority teachers may
need additional professional learning in some academic areas, may experience social
difficulties such as being shunned within their own community, and may experience
difficulties coping with the stress of teaching within their own community.
There are two key reasons why high creative ability may not be recognised in
culturally and linguistically diverse students. First, there may be different under-
standings of words and terms used by the school and community to describe creative
ability and high creative ability (Phillipson & McCann, 2007). This then creates
confusion or conflict about the way in which high creative ability should be
identified and the nature of the educational response to it. For example, some
communities may express a belief in the ability of each child by stating that “every
child is gifted” or “every child is creative” and that it is not acceptable to single
out one person from another as gifted or creative.
Second, despite evident issues related to the identification of culturally diverse
gifted or creative students, instrumentation used for identification purposes typically
measures achievement or IQ or similar (for giftedness), or is essentially non-existent
(for creativity). Other standardised tests, observation checklists and rating scales
used are, for the most part, developed for the children of a particular dominant
cultural group. Flynn (2007) explained carefully why students from cognitively
disadvantaged or less scientifically developed rural environments tend to work at
a Piagetian concrete level, and thus perform on most measures of cognitive and
creative ability significantly below a student from an urban environment who has
achieved the formal operational level. These conditions tend to be compounded
in communities where children participate in a relational rather than a competitive
educational model, and where there is confusion not only about what is being
evaluated, but also how, and why.
8 Prolegomena

Consequently, the cognitive and creative abilities, and subsequent learning needs,
of cultural minority students should be determined by culturally sensitive and
appropriate measures. In Chapter 2 we will return to a discussion of recognition
and identification of creativity, creative thinking and creative potential. The point
here, for the moment, is that without either cultural capital or social capital it is
very difficult for creativity to be expressed. On the other hand, as Kostenko and
Merrotsy (2009) argue, both cultural capital and social capital are necessary and
important in the development and expression of creativity.

Cultural creative expression

Lamoureux (2006) also made this connection between cultural capital and social
capital, and the expression of creativity, specifically with respect to at-risk children.
Lamoureux began with the premise that creativity is an integral part of human
cognition. Creativity conceived in terms of “novelty” or “appropriateness” is con-
ceptualised from a western perspective, with western (usually American) hegemonic
value judgements. Pedagogically, creativity and problem solving are presented using
pragmatic or commercial approaches, which miss a holistic understanding of
creative capacity.
For the students we teach, childhood should be reflective of innocence and
vulnerability (characteristics also seen to be important for eminent creative people:
Gardner, 1993). However, at-risk children often find themselves in difficult
life circumstances, often lack a nurturing home environment, and are often faced
with physical or mental health challenges. Such students do not need to be
“re-culturated”; rather, the barriers to authentic cultural creative expression need
to be removed. For them, creativity will lead to better life choices and cultural
expression. Since successful problem solving and expression of creativity are
dependent, at least in part, on experience and knowledge, as well as on specific
problem solving techniques and skills, “little c” creativity techniques and strategies
are just as important as literacy, numeracy, and information and communication
technologies.
Lamoureux (2006) has thus re-framed our understanding of creativity in terms
of what he calls “cultural creative expression”. Creativity is equated with hope and
promise, and the well-being of children. The expression of creativity results in –
the product of creativity is – a healthy, successful and “good” life.

∞
1
PROBLEM SOLVING

Nothing is more interesting for us humans than human activity. The most characteristically
human activity is solving problems, thinking for a purpose, devising means to some desired
end. Our aim is to understand this activity – it seems to me that this aim deserves a good
deal of interest.
(Pólya, 1962, p. 118)

In this chapter we will discuss:

• the nature of a problem, through an historical overview of the theory and

research on problem solving;
• the importance of problem finding and problem representation;
• what distinguishes problem solving by experts and by novices;
• links between problem solving and creativity.

Introductory remarks
As Pólya has noted (above), problem solving is an intrinsic human ability and activity.
Problem solving is thinking, and thinking is a very important part of what it means
to be human. Problem solving is responding to or answering a question, whether
explicitly or implicitly asked. The question may be punctuated perhaps by a question
mark? or an interrobang?!, or perhaps by an existential concern or a deep-seated
personal or communal need. The question may have one solution, or many solutions
that come in simple and complex and trivial and wondrous guises; or the question
may have no solutions at all, at least not within the system in which we are
attempting to answer the question. The question is a problem if, when it is posed,
when you perceive it to be a “problem”, you do not know which of these outcomes
is the case.
10 Problem solving

Not all questions are problems. Here are some questions that may or may not
be problems, depending on the extent to which you are able to reflect while in
the process of problem solving. Have you ever been so engrossed in a problem
that you have lost track of time? Have you ever solved a very difficult problem
that has involved you in a great deal of hard work? If so, what was it that drove
you to attempt a solution to this problem? How did you feel when the problem
was solved? And did it affect your attitude and approach to subsequent attempts
at problem solving?
Problem solving is learning; learning is problem solving. Answers to the ques-
tions in the previous paragraph might give hints at how a parent or teacher can
pass on approaches to problem solving to a child or to a student. However, the
passing on, the handing down and the teaching of skills for problem solving is a
kind of problem solving in itself, and requires a particular set of skills, a pedagogy
for problem solving. Here are two questions that may or may not be problems in
this context, depending on the extent to which you, the parent or teacher, have
reflected on the process of teaching your child or student about problem solving.
What do you feel are the key factors that result in different learners becoming deeply
engrossed in a problem, or in dismissing it at a glance? Can a parent or teacher
identify the reinforcers or stimuli that can be expected to motivate a particular
child or learner?
So far for the problem solver, and for the parent or teacher, I have poked a
stick at the notion of “problem solving” by asking questions. Another approach is
to prod those who have gone before, to see how they understood this all-too-
human activity.

Thinking and problem solving

Ordo ab chao. From chaos comes order (variously attributed to the Freemasons,
Nietzsche and Mel Brooks). Well, sometimes! Consider Friedrich Kekulé von
Stradonitz’s description of his discovery of the cyclic structure of benzene (although
improved translation from the German original – daydreaming, snakelike – and
some demythologising might be required), or some of the regular patterns that
arise by considering the effects of small perturbations within naturally occurring
systems (Chaos Theory). The role of serendipity in scientific discovery (for
example, Alexander Fleming’s discovery of penicillin) and the role of “hunches”
in scientific thought (for example, Walter Cannon’s physiological theory of
homeostasis) are well documented. However, when it comes to pedagogy for
problem solving, the teaching of skills related to problem solving, the variables
expected to most influence problem solving or problem finding ability include
cognitive development, intelligence, the way in which information is organised,
stored in and retrieved from long-term memory, thinking, and cognitive style –
if such a construct is valid, which is in fact questioned by both Mackintosh (1998)
and Geake (2009a). A host or hotchpotch of affective variables are also acknow-
ledged to be important (such as moral development, ethical behaviour, aesthetic
 Problem solving 11

sensitivity, capacity for risk taking, motivation, empathy, tolerance for ambiguity,
flexibility, and so on); however, these tend to be more amorphous than cognitive
variables, and teachers tend to be at a loss when it comes to teaching or developing
or fostering them.
Apparently, there is no agreement on a definition for the term thinking. Thinking
is clearly related to cognition and problem solving, and often these terms are used inter-
changeably. Here, our conception of thinking is based on a single, general definition
common to them all; if you are cynical, you might suggest that such a definition
has to be “general” so as to include as many definitions as possible! Following
Bjorklund (2011) and Mayer (1992), such a general definition would include three
basic ideas:

thinking is cognitive (i.e. it occurs in the mind), and is inferred from behaviour;
thinking is a process that involves some sort of manipulation of knowledge;
and
thinking is directed and results in behaviour that “solves”, “approaches a solu-
tion to”, or “attempts to solve” a problem.

Note that the third idea specifically mentions “directed” thinking. This
deliberately excludes “non-directed” thinking such as daydreaming, which, without
detracting from the importance of child-like naïvety and playfulness, witnessed in
creative people, for example, by Gardner (1993) and Piirto (2011), will not be
considered here.
Moreover, the term problem solving (with clearly intoned emphasis on the word
solving) implies that thinking only occurs when a problem is presented to a learner.
An equally important activity, which is closely linked to “creativity”, is problem
finding. Consider Einstein and Infeld’s (1938, p. 95) insight, when considering
Galileo’s formulation of the problem of determining the speed of light:

To ask a provocative question is a creative act in itself. The formulation of

a problem is often more essential than its solution . . . . To raise new questions,
new possibilities, to regard old questions from a new angle, requires creative
imagination and makes real advance in science.

So, as you see, a quest to understand problem solving leads naturally to a consider-
ation of what is meant by creativity, and how thinking, problem solving, creative
problem solving, creative behaviour, creative thinking and creativity are linked and
intertwined.

History is not bunk

The “modern” history of research on problem solving has enjoyed a checkered,
or chequered, career. Before the 1930s, logic was considered to be the basis for
intelligent or rational behaviour, which probably reflects the fact that psychology
12 Problem solving

arose out of the mire (at the time) of philosophy of mind. Later, studies focused
on thinking and explored themes such as associative elements, concept formation,
thinking without images, and issues related to consciousness. Maier (1970) argued
that the initial impetus for problem solving research came from studies of animals
(and not just primates) in an attempt to study rationality, reason and the soul. For
example, apparently in the late nineteenth century Thorndike developed and
introduced a research design for the analysis of problem solving behaviour
comprising “the problem box”, and his observations about how cats found their
way to food led to a whole series of investigations using problem boxes. Watson
(1914), whose text includes several pages of pictures of the various types of
problem boxes used in studies, then described the mastery of problem boxes as
just the development of motor habits, lumping it with the learning of mazes. Hence,
problem solving became classified with learning. Indeed, the mechanism or strategy
involved in the mastery of problem boxes is often referred to as trial and error,
and it does reflect certain kinds of learning well, so it is natural to refer to trial-
and-error learning. Trial-and-error reduces any initial success in problem solving
to mere chance, making the mastery of the problem box a matter of simply learning
from success and failure.
In an analogous way, problem solving by humans has been studied using vari-
ous kinds of puzzles, and trial-and-error has become a generally accepted strategy
for attempting to solve them. Thurstone (1924), and, later, or earlier perhaps,
Dewey (1933 – but referring, I think, to his work from the turn of the century),
adapted the concrete or behavioural concept of trial-and-error to describe a more
abstract problem solving process they called mental trial and error. In this way,
the problem solving capacity of the trial-and-error process became a “higher men-
tal process”. Subsequent studies of comparative behaviour looked for higher mental
processes in delayed reactions to stimuli, abstraction, solving temporal mazes,
hypothesis behaviour, responding to multiple-choice questions, a sudden drop in
the learning curve, the use of tools, insight, detour (der Umweg) behaviour, and
the combination of elements of isolated experiences. The debates along the way
tended to focus on whether the observed behaviours could be explained by
learning principles alone, or whether something more than learning was involved.
Even motivational factors, for example, were reduced to the role of supplying
“excitatory values with habit segments” (Hull, 1943, passim), so that learning theory
was identified with behaviour theory. At the time, the term “creativity” was too
vague to be a subject of research, and in any case it was mostly associated with
imagination and the arts.
After World War II investigations into creativity and originality explored the
psychology of particular “gifted” people, with the implicit understanding then that
creativity involved more than learning and intelligence, that creativity involved a
higher kind of problem solving (Getzels, 1964). Studies emphasised the role of the
unusual and innovative type of personality, the type required to solve a problem
when an individual is faced with a new situation. A problem is difficult if its solution
requires a response that is markedly different from previously learned solutions, or
 Problem solving 13

from typical solutions by other people. The idea is that the creative person should
be a good problem solver because he or she can polish off the routine problems,
perhaps in a way qualitatively different from typical solvers, and can also solve
problems that require more than applying some learned behaviour.
Since the research on learning and learning behaviour comprised, at least in
part, studies on concept formation, thinking, problem solving, and creativity, there
was a ready translation of the findings of the theory and research into educational
practice. Getzels (1964), for example, considered the nature of cognitive problems
in the classroom, relating them to conceptions of creative thinking and problem
solving, discussing several salient instructional issues derived from the preceding
theoretical and empirical work, including ways to stimulate originality. Maier,
however, suggested that the translation is not so easy, that it is more than learning,
that there is much more at stake:

Life offers many problems for which our textbooks fail to supply solutions.
In this way, problem situations differ from those in school in which recall
is tested . . . . We learn many answers in school, but life doesn’t ask the right
questions. This is where problem solving becomes more basic than
memorization.
(1970, p. 5.)

You will note that my historical bias here is to consider the connection between
behavioural theory, learning theory and problem solving, leading to applications
in education including the introduction and alleged teaching of programmes for
problem solving, creativity, and creative problem solving. For those interested in
exploring other historical perspectives, I recommend:

the classic works of Getzels (1964) and Maier (1970);

Runco’s (2007, pp. 213–261) discussion of history, historiometry and Zeitgeist
(“Without a doubt creativity can be understood only by taking both histori-
cal context and the influence of individuals into account. . . . Creative work
is . . . a function of Zeitgeist and the individual’s talents” – p. 261), and Runco
and Albert’s (2010) overview of the history of research on creativity,
emphasising the psychology of personality through the contributions of
eminent people who drew the links between the concepts of research and
creativity; and
Weisberg’s (1993, 2006) discussions of innovation, problem solving and
“ordinary thinking”, and use of a series of case studies in the arts, invention
and science to test aspects of cognitive views of problem solving and creativity.

The nature of a “problem”

In a discussion on meaningful learning, and in particular “discovery learning”,
Ausubel and Robinson (1969, p. 69) stated that:
14 Problem solving

‘problem solving’ should indicate psychological processes distinctly more

complex than those involved in simple application of meaningfully learned
propositions. In addition to the minimal requirement that a ‘problem’ must
involve discovery learning, we should add that there should be no clearly
defined or frequently practised procedure leading from the student’s existing
knowledge to the solution of the problem. In other words, there should be
a gap between where the student now is and where he [or she] has to get
in order to attain a solution.

This concept of a “gap” will be familiar to readers of Vygotsky, a point to which

we will return in Chapter 5, although, as Bowen and Bodner (1991, p. 143) pointed
out, problem solving in this sense, that is, “figuring out what to do when one does
not already know what to do”, was an area of research in education well before
Vygotsky’s time (Vygotsky died in 1934, aged 37). Kahney (1993, p. 15) also
emphasised the notion of a gap: “Whenever you have a goal which is blocked for
any reason – lack of resources, lack of information, and so on – you have a problem.
Whatever you do in order to achieve the goal is problem solving.”
All definitions describe a problem to be dependent upon some aspect of the
learner’s prior condition and an assumption that the learner is expected to reach
another condition. If one could reach the desired goal by simple recall of
information from memory, then there is no problem. A lack of knowledge, or no
experience with a particular skill, could produce a situation whereby a “problem”
exists. The implication is that there is an uncertainty associated with the situation.
Those studying problem solving often make a more formal distinction between
the types of problems that one encounters: for example, Getzels (1964) identified
eight different types, while Greeno (1978) originally suggested a three-part typology
of problems but later suggested a fourth (Greeno & Simon, 1988). Kahney (1993)
murmured that even if we could identify a specific number of different types of
problems, and attempted to teach students “successful” strategies to solve each type,
we would not be much further down the track: no general theory of problem
solving exists, and for many people it is often exceedingly difficult to see what any
two problems have in common. However, a key distinction is often made between
two types of problems: well-defined or well-structured problems; and ill-defined,
ill-structured or poorly structured problems. Note that these two problem types
are not to be confused with complexity: both can vary in complexity, which is
related to the level of prior knowledge of the solver, how much knowledge is
required to solve the problem, the intricacy of the steps required to solve the
problem, and the number of steps that need to be processed at the same time during
the problem solving process (chess, for example, is a highly complex, well-defined
problem). Formally, in a well-defined or well-structured problem, the solver (the
learner) is provided with five different kinds of information about:

• factors relevant to the problem;

• the initial state of the problem;
 Problem solving 15

• the goal state;

• the set of legal or logical operators (things you are allowed to do in order to
solve the problem);
• restrictions to or constraints on the operators (factors that govern or inhibit
the application of the operators) (Jonassen, 2011; Kahney, 1993).

Example 1: the Tower of Hanoi puzzle

The so-called Tower of Hanoi problem is one that is frequently used as a task in
cognitive psychology research on problem solving, and it is a key component of
Kanevsky’s (2000) model of dynamic assessment. It is also called the Lucas Tower
after Lucas who created it in 1883 (and published it under the pseudonym Professor
N. Claus de Siam, College of Li-Sou-Stian), or the Tower of Brahma after a true
legend that Lucas invented to accompany the puzzle (Claus [Lucas], 1883). We
will revisit the problem in the examples in Chapter 8.
The problem is well defined: use the least number of moves required to move
the disks so that all of the disks (three, or four, or more) end up on a specified
different peg in the same order; only one disk may be moved at a time; when a
disk is moved it must be moved to another peg; and a larger disk cannot be placed
on a smaller disk (see Figure 1.1).

FIGURE 1.1 A representation of the initial and goal states of the Tower of Hanoi
problem with three disks.
Source: photos by Peter Merrotsy.
16 Problem solving

The initial state is fairly obvious: in the example shown in Figure 1.1, three
disks are placed on Peg A, and two empty pegs are to the right. The goal state is
also shown, with all three disks arranged on Peg B, with the largest disk at the
bottom and the medium sized disk next. The solver is allowed to move the disks,
so there is only one legal “move” operator. There are three operator restrictions:
one disk is moved at a time; a larger disk must not be placed on a smaller disk;
and a disk that is moved must be moved to another peg.
Now imagine that there are four disks of varying sizes fitting over peg A in a
pyramidal shape (Disk 1 is the smallest and is at the top, and Disk 4 is the largest
and is at the bottom). The object of the puzzle is to move the four disks to a third
peg (C) via a temporary peg (B), one disk at a time, such that at no stage is there
a larger disk on top of a smaller disk. Try to solve this puzzle, while “thinking
aloud” and while recording your comments. (An interesting associated problem
here is to think of a way of recording your comments or responses so that they
can be “analysed”.) Of course, if you find four disks too easy, try this exercise
starting with five or more disks (but not 64 disks, golden or otherwise, as stated
in the original problem)!

Example 2: should unproductive academics be made redundant?

Ill-defined problems are vaguely defined, have unclear constraints, unclear goals,
multiple solution paths, many alternative solutions, and multiple criteria for
evaluating solutions. An ill-defined and divisive problem that surfaces from time
to time and is currently topical in Australia is whether or not unproductive
academics should be made redundant (cf. Sydney Morning Herald, 14–15 April 2012,
News Review, p. 12). In this example, each of the five elements of a well-defined
problem, described above, is vaguely defined. Not enough information is given
in the statement of the problem. The initial state includes something about tertiary
sector workers and their work status, and the goal state seems to be a resolution
to some workplace issue. There are difficulties in describing the operators. Operator
restrictions are also vague, and some of them may only become apparent when
partial solutions to the problem have been proposed.
There has been an increasing emphasis on research that involves complex problem
solving, and even wicked problem solving in which there are contradictory
requirements and in which the problem changes as it is being solved, where fields
such as law, managerial problem solving, international relations, and “debugging”
(computer programs) are studied. Kahney (1993) pointed out that in ill-defined
problems the solver has to help to define the problem. And this is a critical point!
The problem solver’s own knowledge, experience and skills are important.

Real problems
But there are other factors that may be important when examining the “nature
of a problem”, and this is essentially an extension of what Kahney (1993) said
 Problem solving 17

about the solver having to help define the ill-structured problem. What if
one student, when presented with what is considered to be a problem that is wri-
tten neatly on a piece of paper, says, “So what?”, while a second responds, “Yes,
I see, I wonder what would happen if I . . .”, while a third already knows (or
thinks that he or she knows) an answer? Even though the words on the piece
of paper are identical for all three, the effects on the students are completely differ-
ent, and for only one of them is there a real problem. (Some warn that what is
“real” is simply a collective illusion – albeit a very persistent one – but, follow-
ing Anselm, I would argue that reality is the best that we have.) Essentially, from
the learner for whom there is a real problem, there was a response or a reaction.
Without this response, a response that may be considered to be a triggering
device, from the learner, the so-called problem lies dormant. Linked to this
concept of a real problem are the associated variables of interest and motivation
of the learner, a point we will return to later when we discuss motivation and
volition in Chapter 7.
In fact, many authors have emphasised the importance of real problems in
educating high ability learners (for example, Betts, 1992; Betts & Kercher, 1999;
Dewey, 1916 – Dewey used the term “a genuine problem”; Kaplan, 1974; Maker,
1982; Passow, 1982; Renzulli, 1982, 1983). Renzulli (1982, p. 149) offered four
characteristics of a real problem in this context:

1 A real problm has a personal frame of reference – it demands an intellectual,

cognitive, emotional and affective commitment.
2 A real problem has neither an existing solution nor unique solution.
3 Calling something a problem does not necessarily make it a real problem for
a particular person.
4 Approaching the solution to a real problem brings about some form of change,
and contributes something new to the sciences, the arts, or the humanities.

A good case could be made for having some doubts about #4 (the emphasis on
“the sciences, arts or humanities” seems to contradict to some extent the “personal
frame of reference” referred to in #1), and in #2 some would prefer to see an
addition “. . . for the person concerned” in order to emphasise the personal frame
of reference in #1. Overall there also appears to be no good reason as to why these
are characteristics of real problems for only high ability learners, a point that I am
sure Dewey (1916) would like to make if he had half a chance. In any case, with
these provisos in mind, Renzulli’s ideas are not inconsistent with what we have
been discussing about the nature of a problem.

Fermi questions
How many piano tuners are there in a particular large city?
How much time does a mainspring driven pocket watch gain or lose when worn
on a mountain ascent?
18 Problem solving

Essentially, such unexpected, quantitative, real world problems are impossible

to answer exactly. However, they do lend themselves to quick, rough and ready,
back-of-an-envelope, ball-park-figure estimates, to approximations in measurement
and statistical estimates arising from remarkably little information, and to drawing
on inspired guesswork and a deep understanding of the natural world, and hence
they are answerable, at least within a certain degree of accuracy, and often within
a surprising degree of accuracy. According to Morrison (1963), the physicist and
Nobel Laureate Enrico Fermi apparently delighted in posing problems or, in his
own terms, questions, of this kind, and was greatly amused by discussing them
with others and answering them. Such questions have their desired effect when
they are heard for the first time.

The accumulation of confidence and skill which such answers bring is a very
good apprenticeship to research. Indeed, the conception of experiments and
the formation of theoretical hypotheses are activities which are well simulated
by asking and answering good Fermi questions.
(Morrison, 1963, p. 627)

Fermi questions can now be found for any level of education. For formal research
on the effectiveness of implementing Fermi questions in a primary school setting,
see Peter-Koop (2003, 2004). The Internet abounds with examples suitable for
secondary level students.

Puzzles
The French have a term for a puzzle or a problem in the form of a brainteaser.
“The bastards have a phrase for everything and they are always right” (Chandler,
1953, p. 309). It is casse-tête, in the sense of headache, head-breaker or mind-breaker.
Bearing in mind what was said earlier about the necessary presence of
“uncertainty” in the situation confronting a person who is faced with a “problem”,
many writers have asserted that “puzzles” are not “problems”. Fisher (1987, p. 82),
for example, contributed to the polemic by explaining the implicit or common
understanding of the differences between the two terms in the following way:

problems – real, involving, ill-defined, often open with respect to known para-
digms and search resolutions, may extend indefinitely in the range of approaches
to solutions and lead to new areas of investigation;
puzzles – artificial, given, well-defined, related to a known paradigm, and often
have single solutions, with which it is concluded.

I would, in fact, like to argue against this position, for nine reasons.
First, the term puzzle is often used as a synonym for what is often called a problem
in school contexts. In this sense it refers to a question that asks the student to apply
a (recently) taught principle or algorithm, requires one piece of information or
 Problem solving 19

knowledge to solve in one step of logic, and tends to have one correct answer,
which the teacher already knows and is expecting. Such a question is neither a
problem nor a puzzle.
Second, the presence of uncertainty (above) seems to be a key factor in defining
a problem. The structure of a puzzle may ensure that there is one intended solution,
but there is certainly no certainty that the pattern, trap or trick will be found, and
that an approach to the solution does not involve complex thinking. A puzzle
conceals its solution, yet cries out to be solved. In fact, the etymology of the term
puzzle is apparently a sixteenth century word pusle, itself derived from pose, the
frequentative of perplex, meaning bewilder, confound or confuse (Shorter Oxford
English Dictionary).
Third, puzzles are a hugely popular form of constructive entertainment – for
example, over 350 million Rubik’s Cubes have been sold since they were invented
in 1974 (Adams, 2009). Puzzles are also a wonderful source of intellectual
stimulation. They are recommended by many health authorities (e.g. Aged Care
Australia) to support healthy aging by keeping an aging mind active, and maintaining
quality of life.
Fourth, puzzles are addictive (Astle, 2010; Danesi, 2002), suggesting to me at
least that cognitively there is something more involved than simply answering a
question. Solving puzzles provides an intellectual kick, similar perhaps to the effects
of various groups of drugs. Solving the puzzle, like humour, is a source of intel-
lectual pleasure, and this pleasure is particularly high when the solution is far from
obvious, or when the solution is paradoxical, surprising and delighting us with an
unexpected and counterintuitive result. Puzzles might well be a source of rapture
and obsession. Some would say that they are Dangerously Addictive, a backronym,
perhaps, or inferred from the letters DA, the pseudonym of cruciverbalist David
Astle (2010, p. 9), who reflected on his puzzled life in thrall to the alphabet, relating:

The tangled tale of human wordplay, how an ancient itch to toy with letters
has led to this black-and-white curio we call a cryptic crossword. Just be
warned: the further you travel down this winding road, the more likely you’ll
catch the bug that once bit me.

Fifth, puzzles are pleasurable just in themselves. This comes from the suspense
of attempting to solve a challenging puzzle and from the anxiety that arises when
an approach to a solution is not found. It also comes from the beauty, simplicity
and form of the puzzle, so that it is seen as a work of art. Danesi (2002, p. 227)
described the mental catharsis, a sense of release and relief from suspense, which
results when the solution to a puzzle is unravelled:

The peculiar kind of pleasure that puzzles produce can be called an aesthetics
of mind. The word aesthetics . . . means, literally, perceiving with all the
senses. It is used in art criticism to refer to the sense of beauty or the emotional
feeling of meaningfulness that ensues from the experience of an artistic work.
20 Problem solving

Sixth, puzzles require sharp logic, clarity of thinking and accurate reckoning.
They can also be used to develop these abilities, a point clearly and carefully made
by Krutetskii (1976). For an extended example of sharp logic needed to solve
problems, I recommend the brilliant if not labyrinthine book by the master of logic,
Smullyan (2009).
Seventh, solutions to puzzles require insight, imagination, ingenuity and
creativity, an ability to “see” what is not obvious. The term insight encapsulates
the process in problem solving during which a previously unsolvable puzzle
suddenly becomes clear and obvious. Dehaene (1997, p. 151) has described this
moment for mathematicians, when they “see” with their “mind’s eye”:
They say that in their most creative moments, which some describe as
illuminations, they do not reason voluntarily, nor think in words, nor perform long
formal calculations. Mathematical truth descends upon them, sometimes even during
sleep.
The moment of insight, of illumination, of epiphany, is often accompanied by
an exclamation, perhaps of delight, joy, surprise, pleasure, or satisfaction, an event
that MacKinnon (1978, p. 47) describes as “the restructuring A-ha experience”
and is variously called the Eureka effect or an Aha! moment (Auble, Franks & Soraci,
1979; Gardner, 1979; Gruber, 1981b), perhaps echoing Gordon’s (1961) hedonic
response.
In fact, 50 years earlier Wallas (1926) reported on this moment of insight:

Helmholtz and Poincaré both speak of the appearance of a new idea as

instantaneous and unexpected. If we so define the illumination stage as to
restrict it to this instantaneous flash, it is obvious that we cannot influence
it by a direct effort of will . . . . On the other hand, the final flash, or click,
is the culmination of a successful train of association, which may have lasted
for an appreciable time, and which has probably been preceded by a series
of tentative and unsuccessful trains.
(Wallas, 1970, p. 96, comprising excerpts from Wallas, 1926)

Eighth, puzzles contain deep truths. The Tower of Hanoi puzzle, for instance,
requires knowledge (explicit or implicit) of the basic if not fundamental properties
of odd and even numbers and (mathematical) inductive logic. My favourite
examples of what I mean here come from the Eötvös and Kürschák mathematical
competitions in Hungary (Suppa, 2007).
Ninth, puzzles are found in all cultures and all societies, so much so that Danesi
(2002, p. 35) called “the intuitive knack for puzzles felt by people across the world”
an instinct. Danesi (2002 p. 233) emphasised the importance of puzzles for people
in the following way:

A search for the meaning of puzzles in human life is tantamount to a search

for a meaning to life itself. The great writer T.S. Eliot argued that true
knowledge starts with comprehending the forces that have made us [who]
 Problem solving 21

we are. The puzzle instinct is one of those forces. There is no culture without
puzzles; and there is no human being alive who does not understand what
a puzzle is.

Whether or not my argument is convincing, Fisher (1987, p. 244) did provide

a set of criteria for judging a problem to be suitable for real problem solving by
children:

it has immediate, practical effects on children’s lives;

there is the possibility of children being able to do something to change and
improve matters (in other words, it is ‘actionable’ rather than merely
‘discussable’);
there are neither known ‘right’ solutions nor clear boundaries;
it will require children to use their own ideas and efforts to resolve the problem;
it is ‘big’ enough to require many phases of class activity for any effective
resolution (in other words, the process of working upon the problem requires
a considerable amount of different activities and the possibility of stages of
partial resolution).

Problem finding and problem identification

About 35 years ago, Renzulli (1982) noted the paucity of research on problem
finding, and it appears that little has changed since then. Getzels’ (1975) paper on
problem finding and problem solving is often cited, and still seems to be the authority
on the importance of problem finding. Dillon (1982) essentially reworked Getzels’
discussion, and presented a conceptual framework for problem finding and solving.
Such a scheme has the benefit of directing research activities into manageable chunks.
Dillon also made some perceptive comments about the so-called “new” science
curricula (that is, they were “new” in the early 1970s, and should be distinguished
from the aberration of “new mathematics” in the 1960s!), in that they make little
or no attempt to encourage problem finding, and appear to emphasise a particular
form of problem solving.
A study by Smilansky and Halberstadt (1986) used empirical methods to examine
differences in participants who were characterised as having the ability to invent
and solve high-level problems compared with those who were good problem solvers
but lacked the ability to invent high-level problems.
The two groups were compared in terms of particular intellectual characteristics
(school achievement, divergent thinking ability and field dependence), perception
of the classroom environment, and self perception. Like many of the previous studies
this one used measures of problem solving that were intended to be relatively
“content free”. The authors found that:

Subjects of superior problem posing skills demonstrated a significantly greater

ability to remain cognitively independent on the tasks administered to them.
22 Problem solving

Additionally, high-ability posers presented a significantly more positive self-

image than the subjects found to be low in posing ability (regardless of their
problem solving skills).
(Smilansky & Halberstadt, 1986, p. 183)

With a slight shift in focus and hence emphasis, Reiter-Palmon and Robinson
(2009) reviewed the research on the process in which a problem is recognised,
defined, identified and constructed, which they term problem identification and
construction. They found that prior problem solving experiences and “other
individual difference variables” (such as personality) are important in determining
how problems are constructed, what goals will be viewed as important, and what
information will receive attention. For some of the historical treatment of the
creative process related to problem construction, problem finding, and problem
identification, see also various chapters in the edited book Runco (1994).

Problem representation
In a similar vein, some authors have claimed that problem representation is central
to problem solving: that is, the key to solving problems is to represent the problem
in a coherent way. Simon (1981, p. 303), for example, stated that “solving a problem
simply means representing it so as to make the solution transparent”. The idea is
that effective problem solvers have a facility for forming mental representations,
or mental models of problems, that are highly integrated and rich with detail. This
would mean, inter alia, that it would be easier to classify problem types and make
connections, because such representations integrate domain knowledge with
problem types. It is not clear, however, what form these representations take:
Jonassen (2005) suggested that they might be either schema-like forms or an organ-
ised set of production rules, and that qualitative and quantitative representations
are complementary. In any case, it tends to be understood that problem solvers
need to construct some sort of internal representation of a problem in order to
solve a problem.
Problem representations can serve several purposes:

a framework for understanding information related to the problem;

a model . . . of how the system of possible solution approaches behave;
a means of making associations with possible solution schemas;
a trigger for a particular solution schema; and
a guide to how the problem solution will proceed.
(Jonassen, 2005)

In translating the theory of problem representation into the practice of teaching

problem solving, Jonassen (2011) recommended that students learn to represent
their understanding in more than one way. To solve problems (of the “uncertain”
kind), students will need to transfer problem solving skills, and to do this they will
 Problem solving 23

need the ability to represent their understanding of how problems relate to domain
knowledge. Well-developed representations of a problem comprise multiple
representations including structural knowledge, procedural knowledge, reflective
knowledge, images and metaphors of the system, and knowledge of strategies.
Hence, the more ways that students are able to represent the problems that they
are trying to solve, the more effective they will be in transferring their problem
solving skills. It is interesting to note that one form of representation is verbalisation,
and that Schooler and Melcher (1995) regarded verbalisation as an impediment to
certain types of problem solving.

Information processing models of problem solving

In their monumental book titled Human problem solving, Newell and Simon (1972;
cf. Simon, 1981) proposed that problem solving takes place by conducting a search
in a problem space. They referred to the set of all possible states that a problem
can be in as a state space. On the other hand, a person’s mental representation of
a problem is the person’s problem space. A person’s problem space may well be
different from an element of the problem state space because a person solving a
problem might not have the complete information needed to solve it, or might
have additional information that is not relevant (but which he or she thinks is
relevant). This distinction between the problem space and a person’s problem space
allows for individual differences between problem solvers. The overall idea is that,
as a person progresses towards the solution of a problem, he or she progresses through
a series of knowledge states until the solution is achieved. Such progress from one
state to another is said to occur by means of the person applying mental operations
to change the earlier knowledge state into another.
Over the past 30 years or so, the concept of problem space has been applied in
a steadily increasing number of studies in the field of problem solving with the
aim of developing an information-processing model of cognition (that is, in a search
for the holy grail of artificial intelligence). Until the early 1970s many psychologists
who studied problem solving were concerned with what Mayer (1992) calls the
“older paths” of Associationism and Behaviourism (based on the principle of learning
by reinforcement) and Gestalt (which involves a restructuring of the problem in
a new way). With the emergence of powerful computers and their associated
software, the possibility arose of modelling human thinking by means of a computer
program. In one of their examples, Newell and Simon (1972) discussed in detail
a computer program that solved “cryptarithmetic” problems in a way they claimed
to be similar to the method used by humans. Cryptarithms are animals of the form:

SEND + MORE = MONEY

Each letter represents a single digit number: the same letter in any one problem
must be the same number; different letters in any one problem must be different
numbers. In this example, each digit between 0 and 9 has a corresponding letter,
24 Problem solving

and each letter has a unique number. Some cryptarithms will have more than one
answer, in which case all solutions should be produced. Ideally, a solution should
be found using logic rather than by guessing-and-checking. A collection of
cryptarithms may be found in Merrotsy (2007a).
Since Newell and Simon’s (1972) early forays into finding The General Problem
Solver, many programs have been written, using far more sophisticated protocols
and computational modelling, which play chess and checkers, solve algebra and
geometry problems, solve logical and deductive problems, understand natural
language, understand electronic circuit diagrams, can teach as an “expert” tutor,
and so on. For the teacher, the distinction between the problem space and a person’s
problem space also leads to a consistency between what every teacher knows about
real world problem solvers in a classroom, and the simulated problem solvers
represented by computer programs: each problem solver is different, with his or
her own individual memory, knowledge base, values, and his or her own ability
to carry out mental operations.

Experts and novices

A great deal of research has been carried out on how experts (and novices) solve
problems. From experts solving problems in major domains (such as physics,
Mathematics, chemistry, law, teaching, medicine, music and literacy), to playing
chess, taking restaurant orders, typing and performing mental calculations, running
marathons, playing darts, and so on, there is a great deal of published material (Chi,
Glaser & Farr, 1988; Ericsson, Roring & Nandagopal, 2007; Ericsson & Smith,
1991). Experts have also been involved in studies that attempt to make some progress
towards developing a general theory of problem solving (Ericsson & Smith, 1991),
or at least an expert-performance framework (Ericsson et al., 2007).
There is one key feature that distinguishes problem solving by experts and by
novices across the various domains and that is years of experience, and in particular
a period of incubation for the first ten years of experience in a field. The ten year
rule was first mooted by Chase and Simon (1973) after their study of problem
solving in chess, and gathered substantial support from subsequent research by Hayes
(1981; 1989), who studied the preparation stage in creative production in the fields
of music composition, painting and poetry; by Mayer (1992), who analysed the
differences between how experts and novices solve problems in physics, diagnosis
of X-rays and computer programming; by Gardner (1993) in a series of individual
case studies of creative development set within the framework of his model of so-
called multiple intelligences; by Csikszentmihalyi (1996) in a project to support
his concept of flow; and by Ericsson and his colleagues (e.g. Ericsson et al., 2007;
Ericsson & Smith, 1991) in their studies on the development of expertise and
exceptional performance.
Chi et al. (1988, p. 71) proposed a knowledge-based view of expertise as follows:
“the problem solving difficulties of novices can be attributed to inadequacies of
their knowledge bases and not to limitations in the architecture of their cognitive
 Problem solving 25

systems or processing capabilities”. Mayer (1992, p. 413) went on to summarise

the four major aspects of knowledge as they relate to expert problem solving:

experts store factual knowledge in large units that can be accessed rapidly;
experts store semantic knowledge in such a way that specific features of a
problem can be related to meaningful underlying concepts;
experts store schematic knowledge in a way that allows discrimination among
and categorisation of problem types based on solution plans;
experts store strategic knowledge in such a way as to allow them to work
forward guided by a global plan and to consider alternatives.

We will return to a lengthier discussion of knowledge in Chapter 5; it suffices here

to note the different categories of knowledge used by Mayer in the above list.
Factual knowledge refers to one’s knowledge of equations (in physics, say), the
effects of various surgical techniques, or the arrangements of internal organs that
affect X-rays, and so on. Semantic knowledge is to do with “meaning”, such as
the concepts underlying a given situation. Schematic knowledge appears to be linked
to the concept of schema and describes how learners differ in their knowledge of
problem types, that is, how problems can be categorised. Strategic knowledge
is identical to procedural knowledge, and refers to how learners use plans or strategies
to solve problems.
On the other hand, Glaser and Chi (1988, pp. xvii–xx) produced a list of seven
cognitive dimensions of performance that differentiate experts from novices:

experts excel mainly in their own domain; . . .

experts perceive large meaningful patterns in their domain; . . .
experts are fast – they are faster than novices at performing the skills of their
domain, and they quickly solve problems with little error; . . .
experts have superior short-term and long-term memory; . . .
experts see and represent a problem in their domain at a deeper (more prin-
cipled) level than novices – novices tend to represent a problem at a superficial
level; . . .
experts spend a great deal of time analysing a problem qualitatively; . . .
experts have strong self-monitoring skills (e.g. experts are more aware than
novices of when they make errors, why they fail to comprehend, and when
they need to check their solutions).

In wanting to argue for the primacy of acquired (and hence not determined or
even influenced by genetic inheritance) nature of expertise, Ericsson, Nandagopal
and Roring (2009) compiled a list of the perceived mechanisms of expert
performance acquired by acclaimed experts, and these in fact turn out to be cogni-
tive abilities: more complex encoding processes to encode relevant information in
26 Problem solving

long-term memory; better and more refined mental representations; rapid chunk-
ing of information, which is then associated with refined retrieval cues; more efficient
strategies in applying skills; close monitoring of internal states; rapid execution of
highly practised activities with concurrent thinking; better able to use anticipatory
cues; and superior control over motor actions. They argue, for example, that:

superior speed of expert performers appears to depend primarily on acquired

cognitive representations that allow performers to be prepared for execution
of appropriate actions rather than any superior basic acuity of their sensory
perceptual systems and/or faster basic speed of their motor systems. . . . Expert
performance is primarily mediated by acquired mental representations which
allow the experts to anticipate courses of action, to control those aspects that
are relevant to generating their superior performance, and to evaluate
alternative courses of action during performance.
(Ericsson et al., 2009, pp. 137–138)

In their unfettered enthusiasm to show the acquired nature of expertise, Ericsson

et al., (2009) appear to have missed the point that the ability to make the specific
neurological adaptations associated with experts’ acquired cognitive and physio-
logical advantages may themselves be, to a large extent, genetically determined.
There also appears to be a fundamental and surprising lack of understanding about
the meaning of basic terms, such as the difference between the terms “innate talent”
and “natural ability”, that has surfaced in the embarrassing public spat between
Ericsson et al. (2009) and Gagné (2009b).
Naturally there are some similarities between the acquired mechanisms of
Ericsson et al. (2009), the cognitive characteristics of experts of Glaser and Chi
(1988), and the aspects of expert knowledge for problem solving given in Mayer’s
(1992) list. A detailed study of how experts solve problems could well be linked
to the development of teaching strategies that in turn could be directed towards
producing learners who are aware of what is needed to become more “expert” in
their problem solving in a particular domain. Indeed, Renzulli has long maintained
that gifted students should be taught the prerequisite knowledge and skills to enable
them to solve real world problems in similar ways to those used by experts in
particular domains – to become “little professionals” – and that approach has been
developed further into what has recently been termed “the parallel curriculum”
(Tomlinson et al., 2002). The ten-year-rule aside, I must admit that I am not yet
convinced that we should be expecting youth, or children for that matter, to
be “little professionals” and to show or demonstrate the perceived behaviours of
adult experts.
Be that as it may, Gagné (2009b) and Ericsson et al. (2009) have in their own
ways highlighted the importance of deliberate practice for the development of talent
or of expertise. Deliberate practice refers to engagement in a practice activity with
full concentration, with the conscious aim of improving some aspect of performance
in a particular task: “experts continually engage in deliberate practice activities . . .
 Problem solving 27

[and] the engagement in these activities causes refinement and maintenance of the
mediating mechanisms” (Ericsson et al., 2009, p. 139). This leaves open such
questions as what motivational factors will lead particular individuals to commit
time and effort to developing expertise and to maintain effortful pursuit of optimal
performances throughout their creative lives. In Chapter 6 we will consider the
nature of the environment that lends itself to the development of expertise.

Problem solving and creativity

There is really no clear-cut boundary between the two concepts of problem solving
and creativity. Weisberg (1988, 1993, 1995) commented on the links that are made
between them or have been implied about them. In particular, he has been
concerned with the knowledge base and the way in which the problem solver
searches memory in laboratory problem solving sessions. Using selected work
from Edison (but not Tesla!), Picasso, Mozart, and Watson and Crick (but not
Maurice Wilkins and Rosalind Franklin!), he examined examples of “creativity of
the highest order” in science, technology and the arts, and questioned what he
called the “genius” view of creativity that traditionally was said to involve a “leap
of insight”. The role of prior knowledge was examined, along with ways in which
transfer was claimed to have occurred between different problem solving situations.
Weisberg (1988, p. 168) suggested that in all these well-documented cases: “one
sees nothing like the creative leaps postulated by the genius view. Rather, in all
these cases, some new product – a painting, a scientific theory, or an invention –
began as a rather straight forward extension of earlier work.” Weisberg (1988) then
responded to a suggestion made a few years previously by research colleagues about
“insightful thinking”. Sternberg and Davidson (1983) had suggested that insightful
thinking has three critical components: insightful encoding (the ability to select
the “right” information); insightful combination (the ability to put the “right”
information together); and insightful comparison (the ability to link in the “right”
way the new information to pre-existing knowledge). Weisberg actually questioned
the existence of such a mode of thinking in the case studies he used. In attempting
to provide a framework for analysing creative thinking in science, technology and
the arts, he concluded:

Laboratory research in problem solving indicates that, contrary to the genius

view, creative thinking may require neither extraordinary individuals nor
extraordinary thought processes. Analysis of several case studies also shows
that, perhaps surprisingly, several great creative achievements also seemed
to involve rather ordinary thought processes. This convergence of results
from two such disparate domains indicates that the genius view of creativity,
although it has broad and deep roots in our culture, may be basically
misdirected.
(Weisberg, 1988, p. 174)
28 Problem solving

Of course, an examination of a handful of case studies that do not fit a traditionally

held view does not mean that view should be discarded. Nevertheless, it does
reinforce an alternative perspective, that problems have been solved by routine as
well as creative procedures.
In a different approach, Isaksen and Parnes (1985) reported on a survey they con-
ducted with 150 planners, which emphasised curriculum planning for creative
thinking and problem solving. The authors made a distinction between cre-
ative thinking and critical thinking, and emphasised that both are the basis of “creative
learning and effective problem solving”. The dynamic relationship between cre-
ative thinking and critical thinking has now become of fundamental importance
in the current version of the problem solving framework developed by the Center
for Creative Learning:

Creative and critical thinking are often seen (or stereotyped) as opposites,
poles apart and incompatible. In this mindset, . . . the creative thinker is viewed
as one who is wild and zany, eccentric or at least a little bit weird or strange,
and who thrives on ‘off the wall’ ideas that are usually impractical. On the
other hand, the critical thinker is often stereotyped as serious, deep, analytical,
and impersonal. We believe such stereotypes are neither accurate, nor useful.
We hold a different view, believing that creative and critical thinking are
two complementary, mutually important ways of thinking. They need to
work together in harmony. Successful problem solving depends on using both,
not just one or the other.
(Treffinger, Isaksen & Stead-Dorval, 2006, p. 3)

We will examine this particular problem solving model in greater detail in

Chapter 3.

∞
2
ON CREATIVITY

A great discovery solves a great problem but there is a grain of discovery in the solution of
any problem. Your problem may be modest; but if it challenges your curiosity and brings
into play your inventive faculties, and if you solve it by your own means, you may experience
the tension and enjoy the triumph of discovery.
(Pólya, 1945, p. v.)

In this chapter we will discuss:

• the nature of creativity, through an historical overview of the theory and

research on creativity;
• how creativity has been defined and conceptualised;
• characteristics associated with creative people;
• ways in which creative people and creative thinking are identified.

Introductory remarks
Wherein lies creativity? For Pólya (above), creativity is to be found in problem
solving. I wonder, though, how creativity might be related to being creative.
Creativity is a noun, suggesting, perhaps, that it is an entity, a thing in its own
right. Creative is an adjective, used at times to describe a person, or a person’s
thoughts or actions, or a person’s ability. As an adjective, it is also used to describe
an abstract “thing”, a process or an act; or to describe something concrete, an inven-
tion as it were, a product or end result of this process.
Does creativity have particular characteristics? Such characteristics might be
personality traits, but there may be as much variation between creative people as
there is in the whole population (here I am thinking of Évariste Galois and Andrew
Wiles). Again, such characteristics may be quite abstract in nature. Mathematicians
30 On creativity

dream (sad but true) of mathematical proofs that are elegant and beautiful; they
search for beauty in truth and for truth in fundamental and deep thinking, and for
insightful and aesthetically pleasing proofs – the kinds of proofs that are to be found
in The Book to which Paul Erdő s directed us. Sometimes it is difficult to characterise
the creativity of an event or series of events that without doubt have had enormous
impact on human society: for example, the discovery of hybrid vigour in cereal
plants, the domestication of animals, the invention of the plough, and the
development of contraceptives.
How can we judge or measure creativity? I wonder how we should assess
the creativity of the unknown lone man who stood (or should that read the
creativity of his act of standing?) in front of the People’s Liberation Army tanks
in Tiananmen Square on 5 June 1989 – there are certainly different perspectives
on this. I wonder how creative Appel and Haken’s “proof” of the Four Colour
Theorem is – there is certainly debate about this. Even though, as we shall later
learn, some measure creativity by creative output, it may in fact be better simply
to be in thrall to our creative heroes, and neither measure nor compare them or
their creativity. Indeed, how can one measure and compare the prodigious œuvre
of Euler, the astounding fecundity of the mind of Erdő s, the extraordinary
profundity of Ramanujan’s revelations, the breadth, sharpness, depth and foresight
of Riemann’s handful of publications, and the world-shattering impact of Galois’
one paper, unpublished in his short lifetime. I wonder what we are to make of
the work of Apollonius on conic sections and eccentric orbits, which lay dormant,
unrecognised, unacknowledged, essentially unknown until, more than 1,800 years
later, it was suddenly understood and appreciated and used to such remarkably good
effect by Kepler.
To illustrate some underlying issues concerning the nature of creativity, the
examples I have offered here come from the field of Mathematics. While
Mathematics may not be every reader’s cup of tea, similar examples will be found
in the history of any field of creative endeavour. In the following sections we explore
how creativity is understood as described by creativity research literature.

Assumptions and creativity

Writers in the field of creativity have devoted uncountable (well, certainly not c
and not even ℵ0 (Aleph null), but at least in one sense of the term uncountable)
chapters to the question of what creativity is or might be. For your own personal
quest for an answer to this question, I would recommend starting by reflecting on
the nature of creativity by considering these questions:

What is an intellectual trait? To what extent do creative people possess the

characteristics to be found in various lists of creative traits?
Who are appropriate people to pass judgement on the creativity of products?
Do you really have to be able to produce a product to be creative (as com-
pared with being simply recognised as being creative)?
 On creativity 31

What empirical studies have been conducted, should have been conducted,
or could be conducted to help validate particular models?
Is it possible to distinguish between “genuine” creativity and “contrived”
creativity – whereby, for example, an artist might produce outlandish or
confronting works simply for their “shock” (and, a cynic might say,
“publicity”) value?

It is not just because I do not know the answers to these questions myself that I
will use this section to pose questions and raise doubts rather than provide definitive
answers. Ought not education be about creating doubts in learners’ minds, and
then helping them to find the knowledge and develop the skills required to deal
with these doubts, before pursuing higher levels of uncertainty?
Conceptions and models of creativity are attempts to understand and to explain
a fascinating part of human behaviour and can only be “best approximations” of
reality based upon the available knowledge at any given time. Moreover, in
attempting to explain human behaviour there are usually two or more different
views in competition at once. For example, Feldman (1974, p. 59) made an
important point about the consequences that follow from adopting different
assumptions or perspectives in our attempt to explain or describe reality:

From a trait perspective, the main objective of an educational system is the

discovery of talent, and the selection of more talented students for placement
in various available educational settings. In contrast, a process approach to
creativity emphasizes the role of culture and its agents in guaranteeing
expression of whatever talents the individual student brings to the educational
situation. . . . The changes in practice suggested by a process view may well
include specific curricula, programs of instruction, and diagnostic measure-
ment; these are in contrast to identification, selection, and channeling of talents
that are the hallmarks of trait approaches. This is not an either/or distinction,
to be sure; it is a matter of emphasis.

Assumption hunting is something that should be practised regularly while

reading academic writing, and no doubt should also be regularly modelled and
taught in schools. To whet your appetite or hone your skills in assumption
hunting, one example for your critical consideration is the book by Sternberg,
Kaufman and Pretz (2002) on their propulsion model of kinds of creative
contributions. Issues to delve into include the cultural context and social milieu
of the authors; the definitions of terms and concepts used; the level of critical
appraisal of the literature; the nature of the supporting research, with respect to
method, validity of instruments used and design; ethical considerations with respect
to both the treatment of participants and the handling of data; the nature of the
analysis of data; the appropriateness of findings and conclusions drawn from the
data; the limitations of the research; and the extent to which the findings are
generalisable, or at least applicable in your context.
32 On creativity

Before considering some common ways in which creativity is understood, I

would like to make three comments or observations. First, extrinsic motivation
and problem solving could both be seen to be reactive, and so too could creativity,
in the sense of solving problems and responding to the challenges of life. On the
other hand, intrinsic motivation, problem finding, and creativity in the sense of
driving innovation and evolution, producing novel ideas and providing new
options, could be seen to be proactive, a point made by both Heinzen (1994) and
Runco (2004; 2007). That is, the dichotomy between problem solving and
creativity may not be the best model to understand what each of them actually
does; rather, a better model may be to see problem solving and creativity together
on a continuum, with reactive creativity at one end and proactive creativity at the
other end. Indeed, as Runco (2007, p. 308) has argued, “proactive creativity may
be of utmost importance for contemporary society, if we are to avoid serious
environmental, political, and social problems.”
Second, Storr (1990, p. ix) made an interesting point (which may resonate with
readers who are coming to grips with Da˛browski’s theory of positive disintegration
– vide Mendaglio, 2008) by questioning whether or not discontent is important in
arousing the motivation to be creative:

If discontent is the spur to imagination, we might expect to find that the

most creative human beings were the most discontented. Although this is
far too simple a view of a complex problem, there is some truth in it.
Discontent is not the same as neurosis. The inner disharmony which makes
particular human beings accomplish marvels is often alleviated by their
achievements. It is those who can find no way of expressing or resolving
their conflicts who become neurotic.

Third, the value label we attach to the terms “creative” and “creativity” has
often made me wonder why we do not associate “anti-social” activity with creativ-
ity. We tend not to refer to creative thieves, murderers, counterfeiters, and so on.
In his “mildly subversive” psychological study of the English schoolboy (sic), Hudson
(1966, p. 119) approached this problem in the following way:

In some circles ‘creative’ does duty as a word of general approbation –

meaning, approximately, ‘good’. It is rather the same with its derivative noun,
‘creativity’. This odd word is now part of psychological jargon, and covers
everything from the answers to a particular kind of psychological test, to
forming a good relationship with one’s wife. ‘Creativity’, in other words,
applies to all those qualities of which psychologists approve. And like so many
other virtues – justice, for example – it is as difficult to disapprove of as to
say what it means.

For those, like Hudson (1966) and Storr (1990), who suspect that generalisations
about intelligence and creativity are less dispassionate than what they seem, who
 On creativity 33

are moved to foster the less-conventional, the less-than-conventional, the more-

than-antic and the somewhat manic, and who are sceptical of the standard litera-
ture and wish to be contrary, I recommend McCluskey, Baker and McCluskey
(2005) and their Lost Prizes interventions with marginalised populations, and
Cropley, Cropley, Kaufman and Runco’s (2010) exploration of the dark side of
creativity.
Now let us consider seven ways in which creativity has been conceived over
the past 60 years or so.

A four stage model of the creative process

Following Wallas (1926), nearly all models of the creative process recognise
phases of preparation, incubation, illumination and verification. Wallas himself
dipped his lid to Poincaré and Helmholtz. Apparently, Helmholtz, while speaking
in 1891 at a Fest in honour of his seventieth birthday, related that his most important
new thoughts were “happy ideas” that came to him unexpectedly and without
effort, like an inspiration. Helmholtz suggested three stages in the formation of a
new thought: preparation, during which the problem is explored in all directions;
incubation, during which there is no conscious thinking about the problem; and
illumination, culminating in the appearance of the “happy idea”. Wallas added a
fourth stage: verification. The stages are not “stages” per se, as they “constantly
overlap each other as we explore different problems” (Wallas, 1926, p. 79; 1970,
pp. 91f.).
Lubart (2001) argued that this model comprising the four stages of preparation,
incubation, illumination and verification appears to be inadequate and needs a
revision or a replacement. For example, verification often requires convergent
thinking, social skills and sheer endurance, skills and behaviours that are very different
from the flexibility, idiosyncrasy and divergent thinking of the earlier phases. Thus,
the creative personality includes opposite dimensions, and the creative process
requires opposite personality traits.

A definition: something original and valuable

There are literally hundreds of definitions of creativity that surface and bob about
in the literature, and, even though they differ in varying ways, there are certainly
common patterns and elements in the way that they drift. For example, most
definitions include a statement to the effect that creativity involves bringing
something into being that is original (in the sense of new, unusual, novel or
unexpected) and also valuable (in the sense of useful, good, adaptive or appropriate).
The earliest statement I can find of this definition was proposed by Stein (1953,
p. 311; cf. 1963, pp. 218f.):
Let us start with a definition. The creative work is a novel work that is accepted
as tenable or useful or satisfying by a group in some point in time. . . . By ‘novel’
I mean that the creative product did not exist previously in precisely the same form.
34 On creativity

For Stein, the extent to which the creative work is novel depends on the extent
to which it differs from the status quo or what has gone before. This in itself may
depend on the nature of both the problem that is addressed and the field in which
the problem arises, and the characteristics of both the creative person, and those
with whom the creative person is communicating.
Recent expressions of this definition are found, for example, in Sternberg (1999,
p. 3: “creativity is the ability to produce work that is both novel – i.e. original,
unexpected – and appropriate – i.e. adaptive concerning task constraints”), and
Lubart (1999, p. 339) who added, significantly, “from a Western point of view”.
A problem with such definitions is that they do precious little to actually articulate
what creativity means in practical terms, because the “something”, the “original”
and the “valuable” to which they refer are quite equivocal and may be understood,
or construed, in many ways. Ochse (1990, p. 2) argued this point in the following
way:

In psychological literature one is likely to find that the something brought

into being by creativity is anything from a toddler’s finger painting to
Einstein’s theory of relativity. ‘Original’ may refer to something that is
merely new to the person concerned – such as a child’s solution to a
problem he or she has never been shown how to solve, but it may also refer
to something that is new to the world – such as a radical departure from an
existing scientific or artistic discipline. ‘Valuable’ may refer to answers that
gain high marks on creativity tests or to inventions that change the quality
of human life.

There is another interesting and telling issue related to the “something original
and valuable” definition, taken to be the standard definition of creativity, which
is also apparent in other aspects of creativity research and writing. This issue is not
with the definition per se, but rather with the way in which many authors have
been less than original in claiming the definition as their very own (and in same
cases, at least, this might well be taken as an indication of the value of their
contribution to creativity). For an extended discussion of the origins of the standard
definition of creativity, see Runco and Jaeger (2012).

Personal and cultural creativity

Csikszentmihalyi (1996) has taken the view that only originality of the “first time
for humankind” type warrants the description “creative”. However, as we have
seen above, such a restrictive “genius” view of creativity has been questioned by
Weisberg (1988; 1993). Gowan (1972) made the neat distinction between personal
creativity (“I’ve not done/thought this before”) and cultural creativity (“no one
has done/thought this before”), and provides the basis for a definition of creativity
that makes creativity an attainable personal goal for those of us who are not in the
genius category. Clark (1983, pp. 32–33) was inspired to follow Gowan, writing:
 On creativity 35

[Gowan] believes that anyone could be taught personal creativity, but that
giftedness is necessary for cultural creativity, the form that produces major
discoveries and ideas which significantly add to and inevitably change the
future of humankind. He sees giftedness only as the potential for creativity.

Clark (1983, p. 32) used this as a justification for claiming that giftedness is necessary
for cultural creativity, and that creativity is “the highest expression of giftedness”.
The educational implications of personal creativity and cultural creativity and
the development of gifted children were in fact explored in the classic work by
Gowan, Demos and Torrance (1967). Gowan was a founding member of the US
National Association for Gifted Children. His contributions to the education of
gifted children, to understanding the creative process, and to the development
of the creative individual are now seldom cited in mainstream “gifted education”
literature, but I would recommend making the effort to track them down – do
not be put off by mention of the terms “psychedelic” or “numinous”.

The four, or five, or six Ps

A commonly used framework for understanding creativity was proposed first
(I believe) by Rhodes (1961, p. 307), whose review of previous research or literature
found that “when analyzed, as through a prism, the content of the definitions [of
creativity] form four strands”. For those who like alliteration, these four strands
are the creative person, the creative product, the creative process, and the creative
press (where press itself refers to pressures or to environmental influences, either
on the creative person or on the creative process, or to promotion of the person
or product), often trivialised as the 4 Ps (or horror, by those who have not heeded
the warning by Truss, 2005, as the 4 P’s). Davis (1986, p. 14) liked the reason-
ableness and convenience of this taxonomy, but still attempted to add the category
of “mysterious mental happenings”.
Runco (2007, p. 248) has modified Rhodes’ model, adding an extra P category:

Person: traits and characteristics of the creative individual;

Product: inventions, patents, works of art, publications;
Process: either stages of thinking, or perhaps phases with individual and
societal inputs;
Place: situational pressures on creativity;
Persuasion: creativity is associated with ideas that are so good they change the
way others think.

Interestingly, when Runco (2003) talked about creativity in children, he shied away
from unambiguous creative performance and became concerned about creative
Potential, a sixth P.
Clearly, these components relate to one another, and their economy (the way
in which they are organised and arranged into a functional system) will have an
36 On creativity

impact on the way in which creativity is understood. That is, the manner in which
the components are studied and presented will always mean that one of the
components is emphasised or takes precedence over the others. This bias or shift
in perspective needs to be taken into consideration when critically appraising the
work of those who adopt the Rhodes model (or similar) as a framework for their
conception of creativity. As an example of what I mean here, Langer (1989, p. 76)
described how a process orientation could have an effect on our perceptions of
our own abilities:

By investigating how someone got somewhere, we are more likely to see

the achievement as hard-won, and our own chances as more plausible. Our
judgments about the intelligence of others can be distorted by an emphasis
on outcome. In an informal enquiry, my students and I asked people to
evaluate the intelligence of scientists who had achieved an ‘impressive’
intellectual outcome (such as discovering a new planet or inventing a new
drug). When the achievement was described as a series of steps (and virtually
all achievements can be broken down in this way), they judged the scientists
as less smart than when the discovery or invention was simply named. People
can imagine themselves taking steps, while great heights seem entirely
forbidding. A process orientation not only sharpens our judgment, it makes
us feel better about ourselves.

The Geneplore Model

By widening their gaze from “the creative process” to a broader range of inter-
dependent cognitive processes that might work towards or at least increase the
likelihood of a creative outcome, Finke, Ward and Smith (1992) proposed a more
dynamic model of the creative process, which they called Geneplore. They
considered the dynamic interplay between the generative processes and the
exploratory processes that takes place during creativity cognition, and hence their
model has two distinct phases.
First, in the generative phase, many loosely formulated ideas, thoughts and con-
cepts are generated by retrieval, association, combination, transformation, analogical
transfer, categorical reduction, and so on. Ward (1995) suggested that when people
use their imagination to develop such ideas, those ideas are very much influenced
and structured in predictable ways by the properties of previously existing categories
and concepts. Be that as it may, these processes result in initial mental representa-
tions called “preinventive” ideas or forms of a possible final product. The vague
terminology is intended to embrace not just well formed ideas but also cognitive
structures such as feelings, hunches, images, sounds, sensations and seeds of ideas
that are not yet clear enough to be called an idea.
Second, in the exploratory phase, the preinventive structures generated in the
first phase are interpreted, evaluated, modified, expanded, extended, elaborated and
 On creativity 37

explored in further depth using cognitive strategies such as conceptual interpretation,

attribute finding, contextual shifting, hypothesis testing, functional inference,
consideration of implications and assessment of limitations in order to produce crea-
tive outcomes.
Ward and Kolomyts (2010, p. 94) pointed out that one of the strengths of the
Geneplore Model is the specificity with which the nature of the underlying
cognitive processes, and how they operate on knowledge structures to generate
ideas, are characterised: “Rather than relying solely on more global cognitive
descriptors, such as ‘divergent thinking’, the creative-cognition approach seeks to
specify the basic components that lead to divergent productions.”

Systems models
Systems oriented approaches to understanding creativity take into account both
cognitive factors and non-cognitive factors such as the various interactions between
the individual, the field (other people working in the discipline), and the domain
(the nature of the discipline itself). Sternberg and Lubart (1996) presented an example
of a systems model viewed from the perspective of an individual. Here, I will pre-
sent a synthesis of the contributions from Csikszentmihalyi (1996, 1998, 1999),
who saw creativity as a social construct and hence proposed a systems model that
is socially oriented.
For Csikszentmihalyi (1996, 1998, 1999), the “location” of creativity is in a
virtual space, or system, where an individual interacts with a cultural domain and
with a social field. It is a historical process, analogous to the theory of evolution,
and it manifests itself only in the relation of these three separate entities. The domain
is a necessary component because creativity is not possible in the absence of a sym-
bolic system. Creativity occurs when a person makes a change to a domain that
will be transmitted through time. Changes are not adopted unless they are sanc-
tioned by some group of gatekeepers, or the field, entitled to make decisions as
to what should or should not be included in the domain. A major question, left
essentially unanswered presumably because it is “quite complex”, is, “Who is or
should be entitled to decide what is creative?”
Cultures may be considered to be systems of interrelated symbolic domains.
The memes (sensu Dawkins, 1976) and rules that define a cultural domain tend to
be stable over time. In order to be called creative, a new meme must be socially
valued. It is not possible to separate the reaction of society from a person’s contri-
bution. Hence, creativity is limited by the inability of cognitive structures to change
rapidly.
The characteristics of domains that enhance creativity include the stage of
development of the domain; the domain’s ability to attract gifted (young) people,
dependent on the domain’s centrality to culture, the promise of new discoveries
and opportunities, and intrinsic rewards; the accessibility of the domain; and the
extent to which the domain is autonomous. Similarly, the characteristics of fields
38 On creativity

that enhance creativity include the extent to which a field is autonomous; the extent
to which a field is open or closed to new memes, and is related to its internal
organisation and to its relation to the rest of society; the field’s access to resources;
and the centrality of the field with respect to societal values. Societal conditions
will also affect the entire creative process. Creativity is enhanced in a society that
has a material surplus; where information is readily available; that allows a greater
rate of differentiation and experimentation; that is prepared to reward and
implement new ideas; that is located at the confluence of divers cultural streams;
and that is interested in new ideas and open to novelty. Periods of social unrest
often coincide with creativity.
Accordingly, Csikszentmihalyi’s (1996, 1998, 1999) systems model highlighted
that, in order to make a creative contribution, the creative person must have the
ability and inclination to introduce novelty into a particular domain. The personal
qualities that facilitate the production of novelty are “innate ability” (sic; perhaps
this should read “natural ability”), cognitive style, personality and motivation. The
creative person:

probably has access to the domain (by way of cultural capital, for example,
and other external structural factors) and wants to learn to perform according
to its rules, so that cognitive and motivational factors interact with the state
of the domain and the field;
is likely to have particular individual traits, such as a proclivity for breaking
the rules, thinking divergently, finding problems, and so on;
may have the ability to convince the field of the virtue of the creative contri-
bution, that is, has the ability to access the field, to network, to be understood,
and to be taken seriously.

We will return to a discussion of systems models in Chapter 6 when we consider

creative environments.

The Four C Model

Sixty years ago, Stein (1953) drew attention to the difference between objective
and subjective forms of creativity. He observed, way back then, that “often, in
studying creativity, we tend to restrict ourselves to a study of the genius because
the distance between what he [sic] has done and what has existed is quite marked”
(Stein, 1953, p. 311). This tendency for researchers to focus on genius-type
creativity, Stein (1953, p. 311f.) argued, “causes us to overlook a necessary dis-
tinction between the creative product and the creative experience. . . . In speaking
of creativity, therefore, it is necessary to distinguish between internal and external
frames of reference.”
Here, the creative experience is inclusive of subjective or personal forms of
creativity and creative expression, and, as Kozbelt, Beghetto and Runco (2010,
p. 23) stated: “Overlooking these subjective creative experiences in favour of
 On creativity 39

objectively evaluated creative products can result in a partial conception of creative

phenomena [and] runs the risk of excluding theoretical consideration of creative
potential.”
At some time during the subsequent 30 years, the response to Stein’s (1953)
concern evolved into the dichotomous notion of Big C creativity versus little c
creativity. Although the language does not read as if it is original to him,
Luckenbach (1986) appears to be the first person to get these terms into print,
defining them in the following way: “‘Big C’ creativity is that which involves a
big breakthrough innovation, while ‘little c’ creativity is innovative but has little
impact” (Luckenbach, 1986, p. 9).
However, Luckenbach (1986) missed the nuance of objective and subjective
forms of creativity evident in Stein (1953). Around this time, Stein (1987) himself
returned to the issue of “Creativity – Big C (high level creativity) and Little c (day
to day creativity)” (p. 420). He posed the question, “To what extent are the
psychological variables which we now know to be characteristic of manifestly
creative persons valid for the prediction of the creativity of persons who have not
yet manifested their creativity?” (p. 417), to which he responded, “We should not
assume that the psychological characteristics associated with Creativity Little c are
the same as those associated with Creativity Big C” (p. 420). Research at the time
may well have been on individual qualities and traits, but Stein (1987) was still
worried about the continued, or reinvigorated, tendency for researchers to focus
on Big C Creativity, at the denigration of, say, creativity by school children (p.
421). Hence, it is really in Stein (1987) that we first see a deeper understanding
of the terms Big C Creativity and little c creativity, and an appreciation of some
of the implications, both positive and negative, of making this distinction. For a
more complete treatment of the history of the concepts of Big C and little c
creativity, see Merrotsy (2013c).
The focus on exceptional creativity was so much that during the 1980s and
1990s most researchers and writers on creativity recognised only Big C kinds of
creativity (Sternberg & Lubart, 1996). Indeed, studies tended to be about eminent
creators and their eminent creativity, at the expense of everyday, common or garden-
variety creativity (see, for example Csikszentmihalyi, 1996, p. 27, who used the
term “creativity with a capital c”; Gardner, 1993; Gruber, 1981a; Simonton, 1994).
Weisberg’s (1993) championing of “ordinary thinking”, and Runco’s (1996) return
to Stein’s creative experience and internal frames of reference, via his “personal
creativity”, were important exceptions from this period.
In their article exploring the various causes for the perceived, or perhaps
evident, lack of originality in programmes that claim to enhance creativity, Plucker
and Beghetto (2003, p. 219) placed the blame, first, but on equal footing with the
concentration of research on innovation and the “obsession” with the divergent
thinking of psychometric approaches, on: “the overemphasis and misunderstanding
of ‘Big C’ creativity, which leads to the creation of damaging stereotypes and myths
about creativity. . . . The creativity literature offers little support that Big C
Creativity exists, let alone that it can be taught.”
40 On creativity

Echoing Stein (1987), one of their concerns, of course, was that Big C creativity
“detracts attention from little c creativity” (Plucker & Beghetto, 2003, p. 221),
which runs the risk of “excluding consideration of creative potential and more
subjective forms of creative experience” (Kozbelt et al., 2010, p. 24). Accordingly,
Beghetto and Kaufman (2007) have added a new category, mini-c creativity, and
Kaufman and Beghetto (2009) further distinguished Pro-c (professional c) creativity
in their formulation of the Four C Model of creativity. For Kaufman and Beghetto
(2009), this preliminary, expanded, conceptual model of creativity comprises four
ways in which creativity has been or should be conceptualised:

Big-C creativity – clear-cut eminent creative accomplishments or contribu-

tions, reserved for the great; sometimes called Larger C;
little-c creativity – everyday innovation and creative actions, which can be
found in nearly all people; sometimes called smaller c;
mini-c creativity – “the novel and personally meaningful interpretation of
experiences, actions, and events” (Beghetto & Kaufman, 2007, p. 73); high-
lights the development of personal knowledge and insights within a particular
socio-cultural context, and the genesis of their subsequent creative expression;
transformative learning; the creativity inherent in the learning process; also
gives recognition to “intrapersonal insights and interpretations, which often
live only within the person who created them” (Kaufman & Beghetto, 2009,
p. 4);
Pro-c creativity – “the developmental and effortful progression beyond little-
c” (Kaufman & Beghetto, 2009, p. 5); professional-level expertise in a creative
field, which usually takes at least ten years to develop.

Two of the advantages of the Four C Model are that it embraces creative ability
and expression at various levels of specificity, and that it recognises personal and
subjective forms of creativity including intrapersonal insights and interpretations.
In particular, it says something about children and creativity, oft neglected since
Stein (1953) proposed his far-sighted conceptual basis for mini-c and personal
creativity. By including the category of mini-c in their model of creativity,
Kaufman and Beghetto (2009, p. 4) emphasised this important point in two ways:

[it helps to] protect against the neglect and loss of students’ creative potential
by highlighting the importance of recognizing the creativity inherent in
students’ unique and personally meaningful insights and interpretations . . .
[and to] bring a level of specificity necessary to ensure that the creative
potential of children is nurtured (rather than overlooked).

Even with such an expanded model, it should be noted that using categories to
understand and acknowledge creativity has its limitations and may serve to mask
various forms of creative expression that should also be recognised (Kozbelt et al.,
2010).
 On creativity 41

The creative personality

There are many published lists and checklists of creative traits, abilities, tenden-
cies and characteristics that are claimed to be distinctive in creative people. Many
people seem to believe that if you are creative you will show some combination
of these qualities; others are of the opinion that if you work on developing these
personal qualities you will become creative. However, and despite frequent citing
of these lists in the literature, there appears to be little in the way of formal evidence
to support the inclusion in them of many of the so-called creative characteristics
(Dacey, 1989). Some of the traits are to be found in definitions of creativity, so it
should not be surprising when, tautologically, they crop up as characteristics of
creativity in studies of people identified to be creative according to such definitions.
Some of the traits are implicit conceptions of creativity – that is, they are (expert
or lay) people’s opinion of what they believe the characteristics of creativity are
or should be.
The creative traits that appear perhaps most commonly or widely in the litera-
ture come from Guilford (1950): fluency, flexibility, originality and elaboration.
Feldhusen’s Purdue Three-Stage Model (Feldhusen & Kolloff, 1986, p. 131) for
gifted education at the elementary level emphasised these four components as
part of the Stage 1 activities, and many so-called creativity exercises used in schools
claim to involve the development of these aspects of divergent thinking. The
widespread use of brainstorming as a “creativity technique” is indicative of the
significance attributed to fluency by ever so many people (but see my note and
caveat in Chapter 4). Milgram (1990, p. 229), for example, considered it to be
quite important:

Numerous researchers have objected to the heavy emphasis placed on

ideational fluency measures of creativity. I do not agree with these criticisms.
Ideational fluency is not in and of itself creativity. It is, however, probably
a critical component of talent.

That is, even if it is not sufficient, divergent thinking may be a necessary component
when considering what creativity entails.
A valid problem solving strategy is to “ask an expert”, so when Torrance (1962,
1963, 1965) asked a group of specialists from the field of creativity to identify the
characteristics associated with creative people their responses included the following,
in order of importance:

courage of convictions
curiosity
independence in thinking and in making judgements
prepared to take risks
intuitive thinking
persistence
scepticism
42 On creativity

readily preoccupied with tasks

takes initiative
adventurous
questions incessantly.

Sternberg’s (1985) survey of academics and the general public produced a similar
but slightly different set of attributes associated with creativity; this implicit list
claimed that creative people:

appear to be unconventional;
appear to have the ability to make connections between widely separated ideas;
have taste and imagination;
are able to make decisions, but they have sufficient flexibility to abandon blind
alleys;
do not follow received wisdom blindly; and
are highly motivated – for whatever reason.

Another important issue is whether creative traits are domain specific (a question
that has also been asked about problem solving, because of the need for domain-
specific knowledge). In their summing up of the views of others at the time, Tardiff
and Sternberg (1988, p. 431) wrote:

Although several authors [e.g. Csikszentmihalyi, Gardner] claim that creativity

is domain specific, there are some claims for universals in creativity . . . .
Creative thought processes, regardless of the problem on which they are
focused, are claimed to involve the following: transformations of the external
world and internal representations by forming analogies and bridging
conceptual gaps; . . . constant redefinitions of problems; . . . applying recur-
ring themes and recognizing patterns and images of wide scope to make the
new familiar and the old new; . . . and nonverbal modes of thinking.

Recent lists of creative characteristics tend to focus on a range of creative abilities

or intellectual abilities that would contribute to or support creative expression.
Runco (2007, p. 314), drawing attention to the paradoxical nature or antinomies
of the creative person, concluded that:

The creative personality can be described with some combination of the

following . . . : autonomy, flexibility, preference for complexity, openness
to experience, sensitivity, playfulness, tolerance of ambiguity, risk taking or
risk tolerance, intrinsic motivation, psychological androgyny, self efficacy,
wide interests and curiosity.

Davis (2003, cited in Davis, Rimm & Siegle, 2011, p. 212), who looked
specifically at creativity in school students even though it is by no means clear to
 On creativity 43

what extent the adult abilities might be described or should be describable in children
and youth, also included:

the ability to see structure in chaos; to avoid mental sets and perceptual sets;
to think critically; to anticipate consequences; to make good decisions [sic];
to understand complex issues; . . . independence, risk taking, humour (which
is always built of surprising idea combinations), curiosity, reflectiveness,
perceptiveness, tolerance for ambiguity and disorder, spontaneity, artisticness
[sic], open mindedness, adventurousness.

Tolerance of ambiguity
It is an instructive if at times difficult task, but very rewarding, to trace back to
the genesis of a particular notion and to seek out the evidence supporting its inclusion
in the various lists of so-called creative characteristics. Take, as a completely random
example of course, the term “tolerance of ambiguity” or “tolerance for ambiguity”,
either wording of which is a commonly cited trait. Many authors have introduced
the term without a supporting reference, and thus appear to have claimed the
concept or construct as their own. Several authors, citing Vernon (1970) albeit
with no page reference, have stated that tolerance of ambiguity is essentially a sine
qua non of creative achievement (for example, Sternberg, 1988, p. 143).
Cross-checking shows that Vernon (1970) is in fact an edited book, and
references should reflect this. In one chapter, Terman (1970, p. 25) used the term
sine qua non, but not with respect to tolerance of ambiguity: “The sine qua non of
genius is the ability to acquire and to manipulate symbols.” In another chapter,
Guilford (1970, p. 176) mentioned, with careful use of the subjunctive mood, that
there were some kind-of-sort-of (sensu van der Poorten, 1997, p. 3) indications
that tolerance of ambiguity, “a willingness to accept some uncertainty in conclusions
and decisions and a tendency to avoid thinking in terms of rigid categories”, just
might possibly contribute to creative thinking, along with at least three other factors.
There is nary a mention that tolerance of ambiguity is essentially a sine qua non of
creative achievement.
Be that as it may, the chapter by Guilford does lead to publications by a group
called the Institute for Personality Assessment and Research in the 1950s, who
conducted research on negative personality variables, such as rigidity, inflexibility
of thought and manner, stubbornness, pedantry and firmness. In turn, this line of
enquiry leads not to tolerance of ambiguity, but to its alleged converse, intolerance
of ambiguity (O’Connor, 1952). It is this (negative) term that finally leads to a
group of Jewish researchers who began a series of studies on the fascist personality
in 1943. Their apparently successful search for the character defects that accompany
ethnocentrism and the fascist personality culminated in several publications on
“intolerance of ambiguity” (Frenkel-Brunswik, 1948, 1949) and the authoritarian
personality (Adorno, Frenkel-Brunswick, Levinson & Sanford, 1950). One of the
many findings was that there is a considerable empirical relationship:
44 On creativity

between the strength of hostility, of power-orientation, of externalisation,

and of rigid stereotyping, on the one hand, and the intolerance of ambi-
guity, on the other . . . between the orientation toward love and the
acceptance of drive-impulses, on the one hand, and a general flexibility, on
the other.
(Frenkel-Brunswik, 1949, p. 141)

Frenkel-Brunswik (1949, p. 141) argued that “the struggle between these two
orientations is basic to our civilization, its individual members display these two
patterns in varying proportions and changing configurations”.
A few years later, Stein (1953, p. 312) introduced into the creativity literature
the term as we know it now, tolerance of ambiguity, citing Frenkel-Brunswik
(1949):

The creative person has a lower threshold, or greater sensitivity, for the gaps
or the lack of closure that exist in the environment. The sensitivity to these
gaps in any one case may stem largely from forces in the environment or
from forces in the individual. Associated with this sensitivity is the creative
individual’s capacity to tolerate ambiguity.

By “capacity to tolerate ambiguity” Stein meant here that the individual is able to
exist in which not everything is understood, but despite this lack of homeostasis
is able to continue to effect resolution.
Since the 1950s there has been little research on tolerance of ambiguity with
respect to children and adolescents, whether creative or gifted or talented. I have
found only two studies: one reported a relationship with anxiety; and the other,
on talent development in Bulgaria, presented ambiguous, if not contradictory,
findings. Hence, the evidence in support of tolerance of ambiguity as a personality
trait of the gifted or highly creative child or adolescent is incredibly weak. There
may be good theoretical reasons and, intuitively, plenty of darn good sense for
wanting to make these connections. However, a better understanding of the
construct is needed, along with better ways to measure it; and certainly there is a
need for a considerably greater amount of research conducted specifically in the
fields of creativity and education. In the meantime, developing a tolerance for
ambiguity in students may well be a desirable outcome of education. Ironically,
this was one of the original purposes of the 1940s, long-term, antifascist research
agenda undertaken by Frenkel-Brunswik (1948, 1949) and Adorno et al. (1950).
Hence, to the best of my knowledge, the correct reference for “tolerance of
ambiguity” in creativity is Stein (1953), with all due deference to Frenkel-Brunswik
(1949). Could it be that the incorrect citation of Vernon (1970) was a mountweazel
introduced by an unknown author, with the error dutifully perpetuated, or dare
I say it plagiarised, ever since? For a more detailed discussion of the fascinating
history of this construct, see Merrotsy (2013a).
 On creativity 45

Identification of creative people

At this stage of our discussion it seems logical to consider ways in which creativity
might be recognised if you were to bump into it in the street, or in your classroom.
After considering the nature of creativity, a conception or cognitive structure of
creativity will be forming in your brain, and if the “picture” is clear enough about
what creativity is, there should be no difficulty in drawing together some criteria
to construct a scale or test that measures it. And this is where the difficulty really
starts! In their discussion of why creativity tests should not be used to identify those
with talent in the visual and performing arts, Pendarvis et al. (1990, p. 184) stated:

As a primary selection mechanism, creativity tests have limitations so severe

that they are useless for identifying specific talent in the arts. First, they were
not designed to identify arts talent. Torrance’s original intention was to
account for academic achievement not predicted by IQ tests. Second,
students selected by creativity tests are presumed to be creative individuals,
but creativity tests do not specify the field in which their creative potential
might express itself. . . . Because creativity has been so broadly defined, there
is no way of inferring from creativity tests whether or not a student has any
kind of arts talent.

Similarly, Ochse (1990, p. 45) wrote that scores on creativity tests:

do not reliably reflect excellent life performance. Indeed scores on these

creativity tests measure only what the test constructor construes as ‘creative’
or assumes to account for creativity, and are not even reliably related to one
another. . . . As Hocevar put it, many of the methods that have been ‘tagged
with the creativity label’ do not really measure ‘the behaviour that society
typically labels creative’.

When considering the appropriateness and usefulness of creativity tests and other
measures, including checklists, or especially self reporting checklists, it should be
asked whether their purpose is (mainly) for identification (as in the Pendarvis
et al., 1990 quotation) or for diagnosis.

Scales for Rating the Behavioural Characteristics of Superior

Students: Creativity Characteristics Scale
One commonly used checklist for creative potential, ability, talent or giftedness
(and here the definitions can get a tad tricky), and for the creativity component
of any ability, is known as the Creativity Characteristics Scale, a subscale from the
Scales for Rating the Behavioural Characteristics of Superior Students (SRBCSS)
(Renzulli & Hartman, 1971; Renzulli, Smith, White, Callahan & Hartman, 1976;
Renzulli, Smith, White, Callahan, Hartman & Westberg, 2002). In the first version
of the SRBCSS, published in what appears to be the non-refereed section of the
46 On creativity

journal, Renzulli and Hartman (1971, pp. 245f.) presented their Creativity
Characteristics Scale with ten scale items that covered the following traits:

curious, constantly asking questions;

generates many answers to questions and solutions to problems, including
unusual and clever responses;
tenacious, expresses opinions, is prepared to disagree;
takes risks, is adventurous;
intellectually playful, imagines, manipulates ideas;
keen sense of humour;
self aware, shows emotional sensitivity, attends to aesthetics;
is individualistic (in the senses of nonconforming and not fearing to be
different;
critically appraises and examines situations and statements, and challenges
authority.

As you will note, following from our discussion above on the creative personality,
most of the items are now immediately recognisable. Elsewhere in a four page
research article, Renzulli, Hartman and Callahan (1971) presented reliability and
validity data for the scale and its component subscales. I find two points worth
comment here. First, the SRBCSS appears to be good at identifying children already
identified to be gifted, which in retrospect is surprising given Renzulli’s (1986)
later protestations about differences between schoolhouse giftedness and creative-
productive giftedness. Second, external validity of the Creativity Characteristics
Scale is evidently quite weak. The items are supported by “studies” by an eclectic
list of “well known contributors to the literature” (Renzulli et al., 1971, p. 212),
ranging from a note in a school bulletin by Goodhart and Schmidt (1940) to Villars
(1957 – as this is an edited book, it is not made clear which author is actually
cited). There is an overall non-significant positive correlation between the
Creativity Characteristics Scale and the Torrance Tests of Creative Thinking (see below),
leading Renzulli et al. (1971, p. 213) to comment on their own scale that “caution
should be exercised in using this scale [the Creativity Scale] to identify students
for programs that emphasise nonverbal creativity”.
The SRBCSS was quickly redesigned (but not essentially modified, and not
relabelled) by Renzulli et al. (1976; revised by Renzulli et al., 2002), presumably
so that it is easier for teachers to provide “estimates” of characteristics of creativity
demonstrated by a student:

imaginative thinking ability;

a sense of humour;
the ability to come up with unusual, unique, or clever responses;
an adventurous spirit or a willingness to take risks;
 On creativity 47

the ability to generate a large number of ideas or solutions to problems or

questions;
a tendency to see humour in situations that may not appear to be humorous
to others;
the ability to adapt, improve, or modify objects or ideas;
intellectual playfulness, willingness to fantasise, and manipulate ideas;
a non-conforming attitude, does not fear being different.

The criterion for inclusion of items in this scale, or these scales, was that each item
had been suggested by at least three “research studies”. That seems commendable;
but what the various “researchers”, and Renzulli for that matter, understand or
assume “creativity” to mean will have shaped the outcomes of the studies and the
scale. At the very least, we know that Renzulli (1977) proposed a product oriented
view of creativity, referring to creative-productive giftedness that is modelled on
the behaviour and productivity of creative adults, and the development of which
aims to increase the likelihood that more students will become creative in the sense
of Big C creativity or specifically people who will change our culture. That is, this
is the kind of creativity with a capital C that is to be found in Csikszentmihalyi
(1996; cf. Renzulli, 2005, pp. 254f.).
Here, a persistent thought niggles my mind. Keating (2011), for example, has
emphasised that the thinking of children and adolescents is different from the
thinking of adults, and I worry about the extent to which conceptions derived
from adult behaviours are applicable to an understanding of and a pedagogy for
the developing minds of children and adolescents. Others have also worried.
Renzulli’s understanding of creativity, among other things, has been the subject
of a considerable number of negative critiques by other researchers (for example,
Borland, 1989, pp. 13ff.; Gagné, 1985, passim; Gross, 2004, pp. 25f., 265, 276;
Jarrell & Borland, 1990, passim; Jellen, 1985, passim), criticism that in my opinion
has not yet been adequately addressed (Renzulli, 1999, 2005). In particular here,
there are concerns with fundamental matters such as inconsistency in definitions
of creativity, the equivocal nature of the support from the literature, and questions
about the evidence in support of instrument validity. Jarrell and Borland (1990,
p. 289) subjected Renzulli’s construct to a critical analysis and evaluation, presented
a detailed litany of issues, and concluded that: “Some of the research has been
misinterpreted and should instead be seen as leading logically to conclusions
antithetical to Renzulli’s. . . . [This conception] is of questionable validity, although
it may be defensible as an implicit conception.”
The Creativity Characteristics Scale could also be taken to task on its over-emphasis
of positive attributes, and on the differences in measures of a construct that can arise
between subjective scales and objective measurement of specific abilities and
observable behaviours. For an example of how significant such differences can be,
see Clayton, Merrotsy and Smith (2012), noting that a negative correlation or a lack
of correlation means that the instruments are actually measuring different constructs.
48 On creativity

The Torrance Checklist of Creative Positives

If the positive attributes of the Renzulli et al. (various dates) Creativity Character-
istics Scale are less than satisfying, a suitable and wise remedy is to consider as
complementary, or as an alternative, an identification checklist with a slightly longer
history. Torrance’s Checklist of Creative Positives was specifically developed for
use with disadvantaged children and youth. It lists a set of indicators that Torrance
(1969) termed “creative positives”, and that his observations suggested occur
with a rather high degree of frequency in culturally different children; this checklist
also comes with the advice that particular attributes may sometimes be expressed
in non-conformist or unconventional ways. Torrance, Goff and Satterfield (1998,
pp. 18–19) explained that:

Not all members of economically disadvantaged groups are gifted in all of

these positives; however, these creative positives occur to a high degree among
such groups in general. These creative positives can be observed among poor
children by anyone who is willing to become a sensitive, open-minded human
being in situations where trust and freedom are established.

Torrance’s (1969, pp. 71–81) Checklist of Creative Positives includes:

the ability to express feelings and emotions;

the ability to improvise with commonplace materials and objects;
articulateness in role-playing, sociodrama, and story telling;
the enjoyment of and ability in visual arts, such as drawing, painting, and sculp-
ture;
the enjoyment of and ability in creative movement, dance, dramatics, etc.;
the enjoyment of and ability in music, rhythm, etc.;
the use of expressive speech;
fluency and flexibility in figural media;
the enjoyment of and skills in group activities, problem solving, etc.;
responsiveness to the concrete;
responsiveness to the kinaesthetic;
expressiveness of gestures, body language, and so forth, and ability to interpret
body language;
humour;
richness of imagery in informal language;
originality of ideas in problem solving;
problem-centredness, and persistence in problem solving;
emotional responsiveness.

While “emotional responsiveness” is the last item in his list, it is apparent that a strong
affective theme runs through all items. According to Torrance (1998), a compelling
 On creativity 49

reason for encouraging young (i.e. up to Grade 3) children from cultural minorities
to express their emotional capacities is that this will enable an insightful observer to
identify high learning potential that may otherwise remain dormant. In discussing
the creative positives in detail, Torrance (1998, p. 98) commented that:

Unless students are provided learning experiences in which they can mani-
fest their giftedness in expressing feelings and emotions, this type of giftedness
is not likely to be discovered. . . . Because there is a general lack of objective
indicators of emotional expression, one is not likely to find much evidence
in scientific research for this talent as a strength of culturally different
groups. I can only say that this is one of the most frequently observed of the
creative positives when my students record their observations of culturally
different and poor children in our summer workshops, and that emotional
expression has characterized and continues to characterize the artistic
performances of the culturally different.

Tests of creative thinking

If you are to assess students’ creative thinking, creative performance or creative
potential, it is rather important to know exactly what you mean by creativity, a
point stressed by Hunsaker and Callahan (1995). When definitions and a conceptual
framework for creativity are clear, there then arises the twin problems of how to
assess creative production, and how to assess creative potential – after all, whether
or not identifying creativity is a problem, identifying creative potential certainly
adds considerable complications.
With respect to identifying the creativity in creative products, Jackson and
Messick (1965) considered intellectual characteristics of creative people and people’s
reactions to their products, and suggested four criteria: unusualness, appropriateness,
transformation of material or ideas to overcome conventional constraints, and
condensation. By condensation, they meant the kind of quality of elegant simplicity
to which Paul Erdő s referred when describing the beauty of God’s proofs that appear
in The Book (Hoffman, 1998).
This early and simple advice seems to have been by and large overlooked,
so much so that Cropley (2000) compiled and categorised quite a lengthy list of
qualities and indicators of creativity relating to products, processes and personal
factors that included originality, uniqueness, novelty, quality, value, flexibility, com-
plexity, realism, elaboration, synthesis, divergent feelings, intellectual and cultural
orientations, and creative attitudes, behaviour and activities.
Cropley (2000) also analysed a range of tests that are supposed to be indicators
of creative potential. These creativity tests attempt to measure so-called creative
behaviours and attitudes; cognitive processes such as divergent thinking and mak-
ing associations; simultaneous cognition; constructions and combinations; inde-
pendence and differentness; and motivation. To measure such things, the tests vary
dramatically in the strategies they use: self assessment and colleague assessment; family
50 On creativity

and community appraisals; observations of behaviour, attitudes, activities and

products; and word associations, questioning, guessing, supposing and riddles. With
little or no triangulation to support their claim, many researchers believe that
self rating scales are effective because students give an honest impression of their
abilities! Cropley (2000, p. 17) concluded that “[the] focus on a multidimensional
concept of creativity, on assessment of potential and on the use of tests as a basis
for differentiated counselling suggests that creativity tests are worth using”. Cropley
(2000) then added, perhaps mischievously, that creativity tests actually give little
indication of talent, and that the best indicator of creative potential may well be
the dedicated pursuit of an interest.
We will now discuss three creativity tests, but first a word of warning about
the first and second examples. For each of these two, you will need to look carefully
at its components and scoring criteria, examine its pedigree, and consider its
theoretical support and conceptual framework. I will leave it to you to decide the
extent to which these two models are inter-dependent, or, perhaps as a product
of their Zeitgeist, comprise an example of a “multiple independent discovery”
(Merton, 1961, passim).

The Torrance® Tests of Creative Thinking

The Torrance® Tests of Creative Thinking (TTCT) (Torrance, 1966, 1974, 2008)
began life in 1958 as the Minnesota Tests of Creative Thinking before evolving
into a trademarked entity with wider commercial interests. Promotional material
(Torrance, 1984, 2008) stated that the tests were designed to help with the
identification of gifted students, especially creatively gifted students in multicultural
contexts, and that they are the most widely used measure of creativity, claiming
in particular that they measure divergent thinking ability. Cramond (2006)
reinterpreted this to mean that the tests were designed to assess the effectiveness
of creativity training with a view to enhancing creative thinking ability. Test
construction is clearly inspired by Guilford’s (1950) conception of creativity as
divergent thinking, and by his ideas in test construction, including the alternative
uses (for example, of a brick) task.
The initial TTCT involved verbal (using both verbal and non-verbal stimuli)
and non-verbal elements that were assessed according to the mental characteristics
of fluency, flexibility, originality and elaboration. In a revised version, first published
in Ball and Torrance (1984 – the date is important) flexibility was removed from
the figural test, and two other characteristics were added, so that the test elements
are now assessed with respect to:

fluency, elaboration, originality, resistance to premature closure, and abstract-

ness of titles.

These mental characteristics are scored according to 13 criterion referenced

measures:
 On creativity 51

emotional expressiveness; storytelling articulateness; movement or action;

expressiveness of titles; synthesis of incomplete figures; synthesis of lines or
circles; unusual visualisation; internal visualisation; extending or breaking
boundaries; humour; richness of imagery; colourfulness of imagery; and fantasy.
(Ball & Torrance, 1984; Torrance, 2008)

The figural component of the TTCT uses three picture-based exercises, inviting
the respondent to draw and give a title to their drawings (pictures) or to write
reasons, consequences and different uses for objects (words), and providing
opportunities to ask questions, to guess causes, to guess consequences, to improve
products, and to “just suppose”. Two different norm types are available, as grade-
related norms and as age-related norms; however, the age-related norms are based
on the typical age for each of the grades in which the figural TTCT may be used,
which might be, or should be, confusing. There is a battery of research in support
of the effectiveness of the TTCT, although apparently most of this is not
independent research; good validity is claimed, but ambiguously this really refers
to internal validity, and the question about external validity (to what extent does
the TTCT actually test creativity?) is rarely addressed (Cramond, MatthewsMorgan,
Bandalos & Zuo, 2005; Runco, Millar, Acar & Cramond, 2011). Crockenberg
(1972) provided an early and objective discussion of the TTCT, as well as the
Wallach and Kogan Creativity Battery (which I do not consider here). One of her
interesting conclusions was, “A reasonably high IQ is probably a necessary condition
for adequate performance [in the TTCT], and because of this test scores may provide
useful information only with high-IQ children” (Crockenberg, 1972, p. 39).

Urban and Jellen’s Test for Creative Thinking – Drawing Production

Urban and Jellen’s Test for Creative Thinking – Drawing Production (TCT-DP),
was published first in German in Urban and Jellen (1985 – again, the date is
important), followed a year later by an English translation (Urban & Jellen, 1986).
The TCT-DP is a non-verbal test of creativity, designed to be a screening
instrument that offers a quick, simple and economic assessment of creative potential,
with cultural fairness aimed for through drawing production. It has been shown
to be suitable for a very broad range of ages and ability (Jellen & Urban, 1986).
The TCT-DP is set within the conceptual framework of a components model
of creativity, which comprises three cognitive components and three personality
components:

divergent thinking and acting; general knowledge and thinking base; specific
knowledge base and specific skills; focus and task commitment; motivation
and motives; openness and tolerance of ambiguity.

The TCT-DP construct is underpinned by a set of categories that informed the

design of the test and also serve as the criteria for evaluation. The test itself comes
52 On creativity

in two parts, one an upside-down version of the other. On the testing sheet are
six figural fragments that serve as stimuli, and the completed drawing is evaluated
according to 11 key elements that comprise:

continuation or extension of the figural fragments; additions, completions

or complements to the figural fragments; new elements; connections made
between figural fragments; connections made to produce a theme or Gestalt;
boundary breaking that is fragment dependent; boundary breaking that is
fragment independent; use of perspective; use of humour or affectivity;
unconventionality; and speed of drawing production.
(Urban & Jellen, 1985, 1986, 1996)

When using the TCT-DP Urban (2004) found evidence for levels of creative
development, at least for young children, and formulated the following six stages
of creative growth, which he claimed were close to general cognitive development:

1 autonomous scribbling or drawing, independent of the figural fragments;

2 imitation, or simply copying the figural fragments;
3 concluding or completing the figural fragments by drawing simple figures;
4 isolated animation or objectivation, by interpreting the figural fragments as
single or isolated creatures or objects;
5 producing thematic relations, by interpreting the figural fragments as creatures
or objects that are related or are part of a thematic structure, so that some
sense of composition is recognisable;
6 formed holistic composition, in which the figural fragments and new elements
contribute to a common meaning or theme expressed in a holistic composition,
and which represents a high level of creative achievement.

Urban and Jellen (1996) did accept the difficulty of instrument validity, but they
also noted that, in one study involving American and German university stu-
dents, there were no statistically significant differences between the TTCP and
the TCT-DP. The TCT-DP is further supported by numerous international
studies (Urban, 2004), including three Australian studies: Pears (1993, cited in
Urban & Jellen, 1996, p. 56), who investigated the ability of teachers to recognise
creative potential in their students; McCann (2005), who argued that creativity
is an essential characteristic of giftedness despite poor correlations between scores
on tests of intelligence and tests of creativity; and Brockwell (2008), who developed
a neat model of identification of young children with aptitude in the creative
visual arts.

Lubart, Besançon and Barbot’s Evaluation du Potentiel Créatif

Evaluation du Potentiel Créatif (Evaluation of Creative Potential – EPoC [sic,
because it reads better]) is a recently developed instrument that is purported to
 On creativity 53

measure potential for creativity in children (Lubart, Besançon & Barbot, 2011).
It is a battery of multifaceted, domain specific and modular tests that, it is claimed,
allow the assessor to capture the multidimensionality of the creative potential and
hence to derive profiles of potential for creativity. The conceptual framework for
EPoC comprises two parts. First, the cognitive processes involved in creative
potential are categorised as divergent-exploratory processes and convergent-
integrative processes. Here, divergent-exploratory processes involve expanding
the range of possible solutions to a problem through factors such as divergent
thinking, selective encoding and flexibility, each of which is in turn supported by
personality traits such as openness to new experiences and intrinsic task oriented
motivation. Similarly, convergent-integrative processes involve combining elements
in new ways through factors such as combination, selective comparison and
associative thinking, each of which is in turn supported by personality traits such
as tolerance of ambiguity, perseverance, risk taking and achievement motivation.
Second, creativity is understood on the whole to be domain specific. Hence, EPoC
aims to measure divergent-exploratory and convergent-integrative thinking across
various domains of creative expression.
EPoC is available in two forms, each of which is composed of eight subtests
addressing the two modes of thinking just described by means of verbal and
graphic domains of expression (i.e. it is developmentally appropriate for children).
Using two modes of thinking and two domains of expression naturally results in
four scores, and these are interpreted in terms of efficiency and creative potential
style.

Creative problem solving styles

The astute reader will have noted that EPoC, allegedly wanting to identify creative
potential, in fact simply claimed to identify a creative potential style. The construct
of cognitive style is actually not well supported by research (Geake, 2009a;
Mackintosh, 1998); it is therefore not entirely clear how justifiable the constructs
of creative potential style and problem solving style, and creative problem solving
style for that matter, might be. Be that as it may, several researchers have examined
individual differences and individual preferences with respect to how people
approach and engage in the creative process.
Cognitive styles of problem identifiers and problem solvers in a sample of science
aspirants were studied by Bar-Haim (1988). This is an interesting paper in that it
used the previous work of Gordon and Morse (1969), who examined the cognitive
styles of researchers in fields as diverse as chemistry and medical sociology: their
work centred on two measures, one called “differentiation”, and a second cognitive
ability as measured by the “remote association” test (RAT). Again, the unpublished
work by Wilkes (cited in Bar-Haim, 1988), with data from eminent researchers
in the fields of chemistry, economics, physics and sociology, is also of interest as
there are hints of a distribution of styles within and between fields. Bar-Haim (1988)
suggests that the styles are less than natural, that they are “made”.
54 On creativity

While exploring creative problem solving style within the framework of

Basadur’s (1994) Simplex® process model, Basadur, Graen and Wakayabashi (1990)
argued that there are two independent information processing dimensions
underlying the creative problem solving process: how people gain knowledge, which
may occur through direct or abstract ways; and how people use knowledge, which
may occur for ideation (divergent thinking) or for evaluation (convergent thinking).
This categorisation was used to construct an inventory called the Creative Problem
Solving Profile (CPSP), comprising 12 sets of four words. Basadur et al. (1990)
alleged that, from a person’s unique individual preferences for how he or she gains
knowledge and uses knowledge, the CPSP model can identify a creative problem
solving preference, which may be characterised in one of four ways: the generator
style, the conceptualiser style, the optimiser style, or the implementor style.
Similarly, Puccio (2002) developed a measure to identify individual preferences
for creative problem solving called FourSight. FourSight uses a self reporting
questionnaire to identify what Puccio called an applied person–process view of
creative problem solving styles. These four styles or preferences were called
clarifier, ideator, developer and implementer. One interesting outcome reported
from studies applying the FourSight model is that learners with measured differences
in creative problem solving preferences may have interacted differently with the
same instructional content, presumably with no significant differences in levels of
performance (Puccio, Murdock & Mance, 2005).
At about the same time as the Puccio (2002) model appeared, the Center for
Creative Learning also published VIEW: An assessment of problem solving styleSM
(Selby, Treffinger, Isaksen & Lauer, 2002). Starting with the premise that problem
solving styles are consistent individual differences in the ways people prefer to deal
with “new ideas, manage change, and respond effectively to complex, open-ended
opportunities and challenges” (Selby, Treffinger, Isaksen & Lauer, 2004, p. 221),
VIEW assesses three dimensions of problem solving style. The first dimension is
orientation to change, which refers to how people tend to manage change or solve
problems related to change, structure or authority, with two general styles, explorer
and developer. The second dimension is manner of processing, which refers to
how people tend to process information and interact with others when solving
problems or managing change, with two general styles, internal and external. The
third dimension is ways of deciding when making decisions, with two general styles,
people focused and task focused (Houtz & Selby, 2009; Treffinger, Selby &
Isaksen, 2008).
The instrument itself is a self reporting questionnaire, comprising 34 items, which
is designed to use with adolescents and adults. It boasts solid theoretical support,
good internal validity and stable reliability, which, given the constructs, is less
remarkable than it sounds; and it is worth observing that the data presented for
validity and reliability seem to indicate (to me at least) simply that the distributions
of scores in the various subscales map quite well onto a normal distribution
(Treffinger, 2009). Nevertheless, after ten years, there are surprisingly very few
refereed publications on VIEW available in the literature, and no independent
 On creativity 55

evaluation appears to have been conducted. The coyness, of course, might be due
to commercial interests in the product (the SM in the branding is not what you
thought, but rather stands for Service Mark, a trademark for services).

Concluding remarks
Wittgenstein (1953) argued that the meaning of a word refers not to some object
that the word designates, nor to some mental representation associated with the
word, but to how the word is used. Our problem here is that we use the term
“creativity” as a noun, as an entity in its own right, and the term “creative” as an
adjective in many ambiguous ways. Perhaps, in the end, the term “creativity” is
not definable within the system in which it is studied. Expressed in another way,
perhaps defining creativity limits that which, by its very definition, should not be
limited. Rea ipsa loquitur, perhaps?
Research on creativity that focuses on the “creative behaviour” of “successful”
adults (whatever either of those terms might mean) is equally limiting. What I claim
is that a deeper understanding of the creative person and of the nature of creativity
will come from focusing on and exploring and understanding “expressions of
creativity”. For those lacking a way to express their creativity, whether or not they
show “emerging signs of creativity”, a means of expressing creativity, in both
language and deed, needs to be developed, and an appropriate field in which to
express this creativity needs to be found. This implies to me, at least, that a suitable,
perhaps necessary, approach to solving this problem is through a pedagogy for the
expression of creativity. And a wonderful and glorious avenue for such a pedagogy
is creative problem solving.

∞
3
CREATIVITY AND PROBLEM
SOLVING MODELS

For efficient learning, an exploratory phase should precede the phase of verbalisation and
concept formation and, eventually, the material learned should be merged in, and contribute
to, the integral mental attitude of the learner.
(Pólya, 1963, p. 609)

In this chapter we will discuss three educational models of creative problem solving:

• Thinking Actively in a Social Context (TASC) (Wallace & Adams, 1993);

• Discovering Intellectual Strengths and Capabilities while Observing Varied
Ethnic Responses (DISCOVER) (Schiever & Maker, 1991);
• The Creative Problem Solving (CPS) framework, and CPS v6.1™ (Osborn,
Parnes, Noller, Biondi, Isaksen, [Stead-]Dorval, Treffinger, Firestien, et al.).

Introductory remarks
As we are working towards developing a pedagogical model for creative problem
solving, it would make sense to start with those who have gone before. If we
acknowledge that we stand on the shoulders of giants, then we could do no better
than to see what two giants have recommended when approaching solutions to
problems.

Newton’s problem solving heuristic

Find a problem, and think on it continually.
(cited in Westfall, 1980)
 Creativity and problem solving models 57

Feynman’s (1981) problem solving algorithm!

1 Write down the problem.
2 Think really hard.
3 Write down the answer.

The Feynman (1981) documentary is brilliant, a fleeting and thoroughly enjoy-

able 50 minutes short, and well worth the investment of time to see the master in
action.
Since these two models may not give most students the scaffolding that they
need to develop problem solving skills and ways to express their creativity, in this
chapter we will visit three pedagogical models of creativity and problem solving
that are currently used in various educational (and business) contexts in North
America, Great Britain, South Africa, several countries in the Middle East and in
Asia, and Australia. These models arise from three educational contexts: Treffinger’s
CPS and Maker and Schiever’s DISCOVER from America, and Wallace’s TASC
from the UK. Note the claim by Wallace and Maker (2004) that their work is
combined. My reading of their work does not suggest this to be the case. At the
most they share a common goal of being “inclusive”, and both are based on
Gardner’s Multiple Intelligences (the full range of human abilities – all ten of them!)
and Sternberg’s Triarchic Theory of Intelligence (cf. Wallace & Maker, 2009).

TASC (Thinking Actively in a Social Context)

(Wallace, 2001, 2002, 2006)
In Britain, there appear to be at least three national associations dedicated to
supporting gifted children in one way or another, but how and to what extent
they might, or might not, relate to one another is not evident: the National
Association for Able Children in Education (NACE); the UK National Asso-
ciation for Gifted Children (NAGC); and the National Association for Able,
Gifted and Talented Children (NAGTC). Belle Wallace has been president of one
of these, but perhaps she is better known as an educational consultant and her
thinking and problem solving curriculum model, in which she has a commercial
interest, is applied in many primary schools within the UK, or at least in England,
as well as in KwaZulu-Natal and perhaps in China. Wallace honed her problem
solving skills in Natal, South Africa, where, during the 1980s, she surveyed
available “thinking skills” packages, eclectically adopted “successful” elements
from them (how “success” was determined does not appear to be made apparent),
and, over a period of ten years, conducted “a recursive and reflective spiral action
research project”, culminating in the Thinking Actively in a Social Context (TASC)
problem solving framework, which was first published in 1993 (Wallace & Maker,
2009, p. 1115).
To understand the research support for the development of the TASC model,
it would be instructive, and important, to have more detail about what this
58 Creativity and problem solving models

“recursive and reflective spiral action research” process actually entailed. Wallace’s
research method was set within the vague conceptual framework of Whitehead’s
“living theory”, in which teachers and children create and reflect on teaching
and learning processes (Whitehead & McNiff, 2006). According to Noffke and
Somekh (2005), action research in an educational setting focuses on the nature of
teacher knowledge and the contribution the teacher brings to research. It is
grounded in understanding experiences through a process of planning, acting and
observing, and through “reflective practice” in the sense that it involves a pro-
cess of the collection and analysis of data that provides the teacher with some
objectivity and distance, looking at their practice from another point of view. Even
though action research may not start with a research question, it is neverthe-
less research (in the formal sense of the term) on a social situation and the people
within it, and it is carried out within that setting and by the participants them-
selves or by researchers working in collaboration with them. In action research
the work is divided into distinct stages within a series of cycles, starting with
“reconnaissance” and moving on to the collection of data, analysis and the
development of “hypotheses” to inform action. This then leads to the second cycle
in which the hypotheses are tested in practice and the changes evaluated. Such
a process may not necessarily come to a conclusion, but there is a need for
closure and publication of outcomes. These aspects of formal action research are
not apparent in Wallace’s (2001, 2002, 2006) descriptions of her model and its
development.
The research evidence for the implementation and effectiveness of the TASC
model, at least for the English primary school context, is also not clear. I have not
been able to locate any refereed articles reporting the findings of controlled
research studies on aspects of TASC. Wallace and Maker (2009) note, without any
detail of method or design, that in 2005–2006 follow up studies were conducted,
but presumably these were simply evaluations of professional development
programmes and sessions related to TASC, and of school based assessment of TASC
projects. Self reported but not triangulated data from teachers and students suggest
that TASC increased student engagement, motivation, self esteem, enjoyment,
independence and success, and decreased antisocial behaviour. There is no
indication of how any of these were measured.
The shape of the TASC framework is evidently informed by Vygotsky’s
philosophy of teaching and learning (in particular, by ideas from his book Mind in
society: The development of higher psychological processes, 1978) and by Sternberg’s
triarchic theory of intelligence (perhaps from the 1985 version of this theory), and
several principles from these along with Gardner’s so-called multiple intelligences
(refigured as the human abilities – all ten of them) also structure the pedagogy
related to TASC. The key ideas are: thinking is a dynamic process; thinking can
be developed in all students; thinking needs to be modelled by teachers; thinking
skills and metacognition need to be directly taught; learners need to be actively
engaged in learning; students (and teachers) learn in a social way, by working
together, by sharing ideas, and by teaching others; and learning is contextual. Wallace
 Creativity and problem solving models 59

(2006, p. 210) claims that with training and practice all children can develop more
efficient problem solving skills:

but they need models, examples, and regular and sustained experience of
working in a problem solving way across the curriculum. . . . The basic
requisites that should be clearly evident in any thinking skills programme are
set out in the TASC framework. [Sic]

The TASC problem solving framework, presented as a wheel in order to repre-

sent the cyclical nature of problem solving, comprises:

Gather/Organise
Identify
Generate
Decide – creative decision making focused towards the end goal
Implement
Evaluate
Communicate
Learn from experience – specifically a metacognitive stage
(Wallace, 2001, 2002)

To accompany the TASC problem solving framework (or to feed into the wheel,
as it were), Wallace has developed “tools for effective thinking”. A “starter kit” of
these strategies includes: clarifying goals, creating a think tank, looking at both sides
of an idea, exploring the consequences, looking in all directions, prioritising, con-
sulting others, and making connections. To increase the complexity of the strategies
for effective thinking, and hence extend the TASC problem solving framework,
Wallace also provides “a comprehensive collection of cross-curricular thinking tools”
or extended thinking action words, such as focus, visualise, cascade, justify, revise,
judge, explain and crystallise (Wallace & Maker, 2009, pp. 1121–1124).
In her explanation of the various stages of the TASC process, Wallace makes
several claims about what is happening in the brain of the student. Some of these
do need to be taken with a grain of salt: for example, it is claimed that Mindmaps
are important because “they replicate . . . how the brain actually functions”, and
constructing a Mindmap “activates and reinforces dendritic connections in the brain”
(Wallace & Maker, 2009, p. 1118). Others need to be approached with caution:
for example, “if we know that learners have little prior experience . . . then it is
important to flood [sic] the experiential learning before doing [sic] a Gather and
Organise” (Wallace & Maker, 2009, p. 1119, emphasis in original). Pedagogical
issues that might arise during the TASC process, such as incorrect knowledge or
incorrect recalling of memory during the Gather/Organise stage, do not appear to
have been entertained.
Further information about the TASC problem solving framework may be sought
from the TASC website at www.tascwheel.com/.
60 Creativity and problem solving models

DISCOVER (Discovering intellectual strengths and

capabilities while observing varied ethnic responses)
(Schiever & Maker, 1991)
After spending time as a teacher and educational bureaucrat, June Maker journeyed
into academia and she is now a professor of special education in Arizona, USA.
She has been active for many years in the US National Association for Gifted
Children (NAGC). Her current research interests focus on using problem solving
to assess and enhance giftedness, in its many forms, and on finding and develop-
ing the talents of gifted students from underserved or overlooked groups such as
Native American, Hispanic American, African American, Asian American and
students with disabilities. She is principal investigator of the DISCOVER Projects,
a series of US federally funded research and development projects. DISCOVER
is a performance-based model that aims to develop and to assess problem solving
ability in several domains.
Although some of the dates in the unfolding story do not seem to quite match
up, DISCOVER is an evolving model that began its life in 1987. Apparently, it is
based on Ceci’s conception of bio-ecological intelligence, Gardner’s so-called
multiple intelligences and Sternberg’s triarchic theory of intelligence, integrated with
Maker’s (1982) own understanding of levels of content in her seminal work on curri-
culum design or curriculum differentiation (Wallace & Maker, 2009). The legacy
from Ceci is important, and worth exploring and teasing out in more depth. Ceci’s
critical response to the controversial, perhaps misguided, perhaps misunderstood,
book The bell curve (Herrnstein & Murray, 1994) is well known (in van der Poorten’s,
1997, sense of the term, in that it appears somewhere in the literature). Ceci (1990)
is also well known for his “bio-ecological” conception of intelligence, in which he
argues that traditional models of intelligence have forgotten or ignored the role of
society in shaping the expression of intelligence and that measures of intelligence
typically underestimate the intelligence of people from non-western societies. That
is, for Ceci, IQ, or the level of mental activities, or the measure of IQ, or the measure
of apparent behaviours related to the level of mental activity, is dependent on context.
The DISCOVER model comprises a “problem continuum”, problem structure,
problem method, problem solution, and problem diversity. The model is often
presented as current work, perhaps with a reference to Schiever and Maker (1991)
in which a continuum of problem types was developed as an aid to assessment and
curriculum design. However, its roots, inspiration and conceptual framework
actually stem from Getzels and Csikszentmihalyi (1967, 1976) and their research
on the problem finding ability of artists, that is, the ability to formulate an open-
ended or ill-structured problem.
There is a large and growing body of literature that presents the details and
outcomes from a “series of studies” on the DISCOVER model (Wallace & Maker,
2009, p. 1127). The extent to which these studies comprise research, in the
formal sense of the word, is not always made apparent. Wallace and Maker (2009,
pp. 1127ff.) do refer to “grounded theory”; however, the research method
 Creativity and problem solving models 61

presented does not appear to fit with grounded theory as developed by Glaser and
Strauss (1967) nor with grounded theory’s later epiphanies as outlined by Corbin
and Holt (2011). Grounded theory refers to the systematic generation of theory
from data. That is, it is carried out essentially in the opposite way to traditional
research: rather than beginning with a hypothesis, its first step is to collect data,
from which key points are marked, coded and extracted from the data “text”; these
coded texts are then grouped into similar concepts, and categories are formed from
these concepts; these categories, finally, become the basis for the creation of a theory.
In a sense, grounded theory is a way of formalising what many researchers do –
they will often formulate their research hypotheses to fit data (Corbin & Holt,
2011.) In all fairness, the way in which the “series of studies” has been outlined
in a range of publications, and all too briefly summarised in Wallace and Maker
(2009), looks more like the development of models from theory and field testing
them, and might be better described as exploratory.
In my reading of the DISCOVER literature, I have found no indication of
controlled studies that have shown the effectiveness of the model compared with
other problem solving models, that have factored out other influences that may
have led to the outcomes observed, or that have taken into account the Hawthorn
effect. There are, however, studies published, or briefly mentioned on the
DISCOVER website, for both the assessment and the curriculum components of
the DISCOVER model. The reliability of the assessment instrument was measured
for the observers, but not for the students, and not surprisingly there is high inter-
rater reliability for trained observers (note that training costs at least US$5,600 plus
travel, per diem and other expenses). The validity studies for the assessment
instrument indicated mixed findings for predictive validity; good theoretical validity
(there are similar score profiles across ethnic, cultural, language and economic
groups); and vague concurrent validity (“some degree of correlation between aspects
of the assessment with other established instruments”). From 1996 to 2000, a study
was conducted on the effectiveness of the curriculum model for student growth:
growth was measured in part by the DISCOVER assessment, so it may have been
akin to teaching-to-the-test; for some reason, ten years later the results were “still
being analysed” (Discover Projects, n.d.).
Current developments of the DISCOVER model involve a “translation” of the
framework appropriate to other cultures (Thailand, Mexico, Mainland China, Hong
Kong, Taiwan and France) and a reconceptualising of what is understood by
“intelligences”. Here, I for one would like to see a greater critical appraisal of the
conceptual frameworks and assumptions that underpin DISCOVER. For example,
I am by no means comfortable with the construct of multiple intelligences (cf.
Excursus, Chapter 5), and I am not at all sure that I understand what is meant by
the constructs emotional intelligence, social intelligence, somatic intelligence and
spiritual intelligence, but at least they have been re-cast, sometimes, as abilities or
domains of a singular intelligence (Wallace & Maker, 2009, pp. 1137).
The DISCOVER problem solving model comprises a “problem continuum”,
with six problem types, problem structure, method and solution, and diversity.
62 Creativity and problem solving models

The problem continuum presents a taxonomy of problem types ranging from closed
to open with respect to how much information is known by the presenter of the
problems and by the solver of the problems.
Problem structure refers to the way in which a problem is formed and presen-
ted. Type I problems are highly structured and closed; Type VI problems are
unstructured, unknown, and need to be found or created. Problem method
refers to the way in which a problem can be solved. Type I problems can be
solved in one, and only one, way; Type VI problems may have an unknown
or infinite number of ways to find a solution or solutions, or there simply
might not be a way to solve the problem. Problem solution refers to the actual
solution or solutions to a problem. Type I problems have one, and only one,
solution; Type VI problems may have an unknown or infinite number of solu-
tions, or may have no solution, or indeed may be non-solvable in Gödel’s sense
of the term. The cotinuum can be further explained by outlining how much
is known by the problem presenter and the problem solver for each of the Types
of problems:

Type I problems: the problem and the method of solution are known by the
presenter and the solver; the presenter knows the (one) correct solution.
Type II problems: the problem is known by the presenter and the solver; the
method of solution and solution are known only by the presenter.
Type III problems: the problem is known by the presenter and the solver;
more than one method may be used to arrive at the solution, which the
presenter knows.
Type IV problems: the problem is known by the presenter and the solver; the
problem may be solved in more than one way; the presenter knows the range
of solutions.
Type V problems: these problems are clearly defined and the problem is known
by the presenter and the solver; the method and solution are unknown by the
presenter and the solver.
Type VI problems: these problems are not clearly defined or are undefined,
have little if any structure, and are complex; the problem is unknown by both
the presenter and the solver; the method and solution are unknown by
both the presenter and the solver.
(Discover Projects, n.d.)

The DISCOVER curriculum model is characterised by active, hands-on learning,

integration of culture and language, group activities and choice, “exploratoriums”
or centres with “the tools of multiple intelligences” (sic), interdisciplinary themes,
varied problem types, visual and performing arts, self selected formats, and inte-
gration of technology. More details about the DISCOVER projects, and the
DISCOVER assessment and the DISCOVER curriculum instruments, may be found
on the DISCOVER website at http://discover.arizona.edu/.
 Creativity and problem solving models 63

CPS v6.1™ (Osborn, Parnes, Noller, Biondi, Isaksen,

[Stead-]Dorval, Treffinger, Firestien, et al.)
The Creative Problem Solving (CPS) framework is claimed to be “widely known
and applied as one important goal in contemporary gifted education” and in the
teaching of thinking skills in programmes in general education contexts (Treffinger
& Isaksen, 2005, p. 342). CPS is the trademark name for a programme called
“Creative Problem Solving” (as opposed to the term used in the title to this book,
“creative problem solving”). Some claim that CPS is a public domain, open source
“project” (see, for example, http://creativeproblemsolving.com/), but note that
the trademark is quite deliberately emphasised, most of the various group names
related to CPS are incorporated and have business addresses, and most of the websites
related to CPS have “dot com” URLs or Internet addresses. In any case, CPS
arose as a model with applications in business, and at least some aspects of CPS
have a commercial interest.
One of the public faces of CPS is the Creative Education Foundation, for a
long time centred at the University at Buffalo (the State University of New York),
but now located in Amherst, MA. The Creative Education Foundation (CEF),
sometimes referred to as The Centre for Applied Imagination, was founded in 1954
and is said to be a non-profit organisation whose membership comprises many
leaders in the field of creativity theory and practice, at least in North America. Its
“mission” is stated to be to help “individuals, organizations and communities
transform themselves as they confront real world challenges,” and its “vision” is
articulated as:

[to help] someone, somewhere in the world, develop new products, make
business operations run more profitably, restructure organization and agencies
to become more effective and less encumbered, reinvigorate economies, make
improvements in our schools, revitalize communities and replace ineffective
methods and systems with new, more workable ones.
(Creative Education Foundation, 2012)

The CEF offers training programmes in CPS, and runs several educational outreach
programmes for youth: CEF Youthwise™, Creativity in the 21st Century Class-
room, and CEF Youthwise™ @ Paul Roos Akademie (I recommend having
a look at the website: www.creativeeducationfoundation.org/what-we-do/youth-
education/paul-roos-akademie). Since 1955, the CEF has also hosted an annual
conference called the Creative Problem Solving Institute.
Another public face of CPS is The Creative Problem Solving Group, Inc., also
known as CPSB (B as in Buffalo), which is a business company providing
professional services in the field of creativity and innovation. In fact, CPSB (2008)
claims to be “Working to unleash the full spectrum of creative talent in organiza-
tions”. CPSB also boasts a Creativity Research Unit, a network of international
“researchers” and other inquirers who investigate and study creativity and change
64 Creativity and problem solving models

in order to “maintain CPSB’s product leadership in its existing services, fuel the
development of new products and services and provide new knowledge to the
academic study of creativity and change” (CPSB, 2008).
The structure of the CPS model was first published in 1953 by Alex Osborn
in his book Applied imagination. Osborn, who at the time was working mainly in
the field of advertising and business management, is also well known, for example,
for developing the concept of brainstorming, which he published in 1942 in his book
How to ‘think up’. The dates here are important, a point to which I shall return in
Chapter 8.
The first version of CPS comprised a process for solving problems creatively
in seven stages:

Orientation – identifying and emphasising the problem

Preparation – gathering pertinent data
Analysis – breaking down the relevant material
Hypothesis – collecting alternatives or ideas
Incubation – backing off to invite illumination
Synthesis – putting the pieces together
Verification – judging the ideas or outcome
(Osborn, 1953)

In 1955, Sidney Parnes, an academic at the University of Buffalo, joined the CEF
with the aim of developing a comprehensive educational programme. Osborn and
Parnes collaborated to produce a refined CPS process in 1957, comprising three
process stages with six explicit steps:

Explore the challenge – Objective finding; Fact finding; Problem finding

Generate ideas – Idea finding
Prepare for action – Solution finding; Acceptance finding
(Isaksen & Treffinger, 2004)

In 1963, Osborn and Parnes further refined the CPS process, again comprising
three process stages with six explicit steps, but looking neater, more balanced, and
“catchier”:

Fact finding – Problem definition; Preparation

Idea finding – Idea production; Idea development
Solution finding – Evaluation; Adoption
(Isaksen & Treffinger, 2004)

In the mid 1960s, Osborn died, Parnes became the leader of the CEF, and Noller
joined the CEF group. Ruth Noller was a mathematician, perhaps now best known
for her symbolic equation or formula for the creativity of a person:
 Creativity and problem solving models 65

C = fa (K, I, E) ,

where, given that a person has a positive attitude a, creativity C is a function of

knowledge K (obtained through life experiences), imagination I (the ability to
generate ideas and make connections), and evaluation E (the ability to examine
the advantages and disadvantages of a particular idea or situation) (Isaksen et al.,
2011, p. 5), although I would question the extent to which C actually would be
able to meet the definition of a function (“onto” – that is, clearly defined for all
elements in the particular domains for which K, I and E are defined).
At about this time, the concepts of deferred judgement, quantity yielding quality,
imaginative thinking and judicial thinking were introduced, and then two further
stages of Problem Finding and Acceptance Finding were added to the CPS model
(Noller, 1977; Noller, Parnes & Biondi, 1976; Parnes, 1967; Parnes, Noller &
Biondi, 1977). The next phase of development included the addition of a Mess
Finding stage, and the renaming of the Fact Finding stage to Data-Finding
(Isaksen and Treffinger, 1985). Isaksen and Treffinger (1985, p. 5) also refigured
the “rules” for divergent thinking, emphasising that CPS includes strategies for
generating and evaluating ideas, and hence there needs to be “a reasonable balance
between diverging and converging. . . . We talk about this as the dynamic balance that
makes CPS powerful and productive.”
During the next two decades, at least four further revisions, or versions, of the
CPS model were published. First, Basadur (1994) integrated the CPS with his
organisational work, expanded the final component, which he called Solution
Implementation, with the three steps creating a plan, selling the idea and making
the plan work, and presented the outcome as Simplex®.
Second, Isaksen, Dorval and Treffinger (1994) returned to a framework with
three distinct components, described as Understanding the Problem, Generat-
ing Ideas, and Planning for Action, and six stages, and introduced the step of
Task Appraisal. This Componential Model emphasised the flexibility of the CPS
process.
Third, Vehar, Firestien and Miller (1997) presented a similar framework: here,
the guidelines for promoting divergent and convergent thinking were modified
and a fifth convergent thinking rule was added; however, the key difference in
this version is that the language used to describe the CPS process was modified so
that it is easier to learn and easier to use, or so it is claimed.
Fourth, Puccio et al. (2005) reconceptualised the CPS framework to propose
a cognitive and metacognitive Thinking Skills Model. This model comprises three
conceptual stages related to what they call natural or intuitive creative thinking
processes, and each of these stages has two deliberate steps:

Clarification, to identify what needs to be resolved – Exploring the vision;

Formulating challenges;
Transformation, to generate ideas and to develop them into feasible solutions
– Exploring ideas; Formulating solutions;
66 Creativity and problem solving models

Implementation, to select the solutions with the most potential and to produce
a plan of action – Exploring acceptance; Formulating a plan.

For each of these steps there are phases or repetitions of divergent thinking and
convergent thinking, as well as an executive step Assessing the Situation.
Before exploring the “latest version” of CPS, or, given their abundance, at least
the version that is most likely to be the one used in a talent development
programme involving gifted students (Treffinger & Isaksen, 2005), it is worth taking
a considered look at the research evidence in support of its application in educational
settings and the effect that it has on student learning. It is claimed that there are
50 years of research, development, experience and field experience underpinning
the CPS v6.1™ model (Isaksen et al., 2011; Isaksen & Treffinger, 2004; Parnes,
1992). When it comes to actually describing the nature of this research, the various
authors tend to be a tad coy and refer rather to “research and development”, “impact
research” (Isaksen, 2008) or “reflective practice” (Isaksen & Treffinger, 2004). The
CPSB (2008) website includes a research section that cites 45 articles with pdf copy
available for download (http://cpsb.com/research/articles/); Isaksen (2008), an
excellent albeit perhaps formidable resource, cites 635 neatly categorised articles.
However, my understanding is that most of these articles are “theoretical support”
for CPS, present general discussion of the CPS framework, or are otherwise mostly
evaluations of applications of the CPS model with adults or US (young adult) college
students.
Three of the articles that did report the findings of research are of particular
interest and importance. The first, by Parnes (1987), included a description of The
Creative Studies Project initiated by Noller. In this study there was a control group,
but there was no apparent placebo group, no apparent factoring-out of uncontrolled
elements that may have impacted on the results, no apparent acknowledgement
of the Hawthorn effect, and not all of the details of the research design were made
clear. However, the members of the experimental group were all participating in
courses in Creative Studies at Buffalo University. Although the results tended to
be positive in terms of outcomes for the experimental group, which, considering
that they were actively studying creativity at the time, should not be all that
surprising, my reading of the findings presented by Parnes (1987) suggests that in
many of the measures used in the study there was no significant difference between
the two research groups.
In the other two papers, Torrance (1972) reports the results of his meta-analysis
of 142 studies or evaluations, and Torrance (1987) reports the results of his meta-
analysis of 166 studies or evaluations, of “successful” programmes “teaching
children to think creatively”, even if the participants in a huge majority of the
articles were not children, nor were they adolescents for that matter. Although it
is not exactly clear whether the measures of “success” are appropriate, he did find
that the effectiveness or “success” of CPS was similar to the effectiveness or “success”
of “other disciplined approaches” (Torrance, 1987, p. 192; for a non-objective
summary of these summaries, vide Puccio & Keller-Mathers, 2007).
 Creativity and problem solving models 67

By focusing the search for evidence on peer reviewed, scholarly papers published
since 2000, and using the terms “creative problem solving”, “cps”, “gifted” and
“research” in my university’s database search engines, I was able to locate about
1100 references (for example, an advanced search in ProQuest resulted in forty-
seven “hits”, and a search in Advanced Google Scholar resulted in about 800 “hits”),
albeit not all of these referred to different sources and many of the articles were
not actually about the CPS model. A quick scan of all of the relevant articles
suggested that most did not in fact follow a research framework and that, for most
of the articles that did report the findings of research, the details of the research
assumptions, method, design, how the data were analysed and the limitations of
the study were not made clear.
One of the journal articles found in this search stood out above all of the others.
McCluskey et al. (2005) described several “front-line” programs and “in-the-trenches
interventions” implemented in Manitoba, Canada, in which CPS was used, along
with other programme components such as career awareness, mentoring, and
differentiated instruction, as a talent development tool for highly at-risk populations.
At the least, their initiatives had a remarkable positive impact on the lives of many
Aboriginal youth, high school dropouts and youth caught up in the juvenile justice
system. They carefully and correctly noted that, even though they did attempt to
examine and measure outcomes carefully, in real-world programmes of this nature
it is simply not possible to tease out all of the uncontrolled and interrelated treatment
variables. They concluded:

We did whatever it took to remotivate and redirect talented but troubled

young people. . . . Some interesting data have emerged that suggest our total
package approach has been effective, and that CPS training has made a
profound difference in the lives of many at-risk individuals.
(McCluskey et al., 2005, p. 339)

CPS v6.1™
The “heartbeat” of CPS, “the fundamental, rhythmic pulse on which the process
builds” (Treffinger et al., 2006, p.4) is found in dynamic balance, the balanced use
of convergent and divergent thinking skills, of creative and critical thinking, of
generating options and selecting and focusing on options. The CPS “toolbox”
includes, but is not restricted to:

Generating tools – Attribute listing, Brainstorming and its variations, Force-

fitting, SCAMPER, Morphological matrix, Imagery trek, Ladder of abstrac-
tion, VIR (Visually Identifying Relationships);
Focusing tools – ALUo or ALoU (Advantages, Limitations and Unique
features), Hits and hot spots, PCA (Paired Comparison Analysis), Sequencing,
Evaluation matrix, Criteria, Highlighting.
68 Creativity and problem solving models

The CPS framework itself describes a problem solving design process that comprises
a management or metacognitive component and three process components, each
with specific stages; within each of these stages, there are the two phases of generating
and focusing:

Planning your approach

Appraising tasks – generating, focusing
Designing process – generating, focusing
Understanding the challenge
Constructing opportunities – generating, focusing
Exploring data – generating, focusing
Framing problems – generating, focusing
Generating ideas
Generating ideas – generating, focusing
Preparing for action
Developing solutions – generating, focusing
Building acceptance – generating, focusing
(Isaksen et al., 2011; see Figure 3.1)

Further information is available from The Center for Creative Learning website
at www.creativelearning.com/, and The Creative Problem Solving Group, Inc.,
website at www.cpsb.com. There you will find available several articles and
resources as pdf documents free to download, and an online shop where you can
buy excellent resources such as Creative problem solver’s guidebook: A practical set of
reproducible templates to guide facilitators and group participants (Treffinger, 2000), and
The creative problem solving kit (Treffinger, Nassab et al., 2006; Elwood, 2006; and
a set of 150 cards).

FIGURE 3.1 The Creative Problem Solving framework, CPS v6.1™.

Source: Isaksen et al., 2011, p. 31, Figure 2.2, with permission from the authors.
 Creativity and problem solving models 69

Concluding remarks
At this stage, some readers may cry with delight that they have found what they
have been seeking, a creative problem solving teaching model that is perfect for
their educational context. I would urge such readers to be resilient and to read on.
Perhaps my caveats concerning the nature of the evidence in support of the four
models discussed above have been missed or glossed over. Be that as it may, there
is something evidently lacking in each of these models. What actually, what exactly,
is the role of the teacher?
In the epigraph at the beginning of this chapter, Pólya suggests three phases of
learning that are related to creativity (invention) and problem solving (discovery):
exploration, verbalisation and concept formation, and integration (Pólya, 1963).
As we shall see in Chapter 8, for there to be efficient learning, the teacher has an
extremely important and active role to play in each of these phases. However, before
exploring and verbalising the appropriate and necessary pedagogy for efficient
learning and for creative problem solving, we will examine some commonly used
strategies that are used to teach and to promote thinking skills, creativity and problem
solving ability.

∞
4
PEDAGOGICAL STRATEGIES
FOR CREATIVE PROBLEM
SOLVING

A good teacher should understand and impress on students the view that no problem is
completely exhausted. . . . One of the first and foremost duties of the teacher is not to give
students the impression that problems have little connection with each other, and no connection
at all with anything else.
(Pólya, 1945, p. 15)

In this chapter we will discuss:

• a range of strategies and techniques commonly used in education to develop,

foster and promote thinking skills, creativity and problem solving ability.

Introductory remarks
The advice from Pólya, above, is an example of a simple but helpful teaching strategy
that could be used to develop thinking applied to solving problems. Before
describing a range of such teaching strategies and techniques that are commonly
used to promote thinking skills, and that are thought, or hoped, to be effective in
developing creativity and improving problem solving ability, I will come to terms
with a few terms that might otherwise cause some confusion.
The term heuristic refers to a general rule-of-thumb, strategy, technique or process
that is used to solve problems and to make decisions (Halpern, 2003). Some
definitions include a cautionary note: Dominowski and Dallob (1995) warn that
heuristics might facilitate restructuring of a problem; Kahney (1993) notes that
heuristics may often succeed, but adds that they do not guarantee a solution to a
problem. In the literature, there seems to be little distinction between the terms
problem solving technique, strategy and heuristic. The term algorithm on the other hand
tends to be understood to be a problem solving procedure that will always yield
 Pedagogical strategies 71

a solution to a particular type of problem if it is followed exactly (Halpern, 2003).

Of course, this understanding of algorithm presupposes that a solution exists, and
that it can be found in a finite number of steps or iterations of the algorithm (cf.
Turing machines and the halting problem).
The nature of a problem was discussed in Chapter 1: an initial state and a goal
state exist, and there are rules about operators. With this in mind, it is possible to
generalise the processes involved in solving problems, as Halpern (2003) did, for
example, in her five step process for solving problems (even though it could be
interpreted as a solution by trial-and-error, it will do for our services here):

recognition that a problem exists;

construction of a representation of the problem that includes the initial and
goal states;
generation and evaluation of possible solutions;
selection of a possible solution;
execution of the possible solution to determine if it solves the problem.

Steps might have to be repeated, and this could involve redefining the goal or
changing the representation. Note Halpern’s wording of the first step: it is essential
to identify the problem as clearly as possible initially, a technique often employed
by experts in various domain specific areas. Choosing, then, the best way of represent-
ing a problem is not strictly linked to strategy choice, but this can certainly help to
make the problem clearer. Some suggestions from Halpern (2003) included: write
it down; draw a graph or a diagram; construct a hierarchical tree (a branching
diagram) if the problem is linked to probability or to uncertain outcomes; construct
a matrix or a chart if there are clear categories involved (some logic problems fit
this pattern); or make a model. How effective these techniques are is not clear,
for there appears to be surprisingly little formal research on this, but for some people,
and for specific problems, they just might be effective!
If my scepticism is all too obvious here, it is partly because it is not at all clear
to me exactly what it is that is being taught or learned through strategy instruction.
For example, Kahney (1993) describes a study of strategy instruction in the
domain-specific area of Mathematics. In this study, two groups of students spent
a total of 24 hours solving Mathematics problems. Both groups had performed
equally on a pre-test: one group, the experimental group, was presented with a
list of useful problem solving strategies, and was given practice at applying the
strategies in 20 exercise problems; the control group was also given the exercise
problems but no instruction in the use of the strategies. In a post-test the
experimental group solved three times as many problems as the control group.
Of course, I invite you to immediately speculate on the various reasons as to
why this might have occurred. Apart from any issues that could arise with the research
method and design, I would start mumbling something about automaticity, and
cognitive load, and so on, concepts to which we will return in Chapter 5. At the
least this example does reinforce for me the need for evidence based pedagogy,
72 Pedagogical strategies

and needless to say the nature of the evidence does need to be open to careful
scrutiny.
Creativity and problem solving strategies, techniques and exercises are often,
and probably should be, enjoyable, but they certainly do have a serious purpose
as well. Creativity is taken very seriously by industry, and most of the creativity
“research” conducted in America over the past 50 years or more has been initiated
and funded by large corporations, rather than education bodies (although I do
recommend that the nature of this so-called research should be approached with
a fine-toothed critical comb). My erstwhile and errant (!) mentor, Stan Bailey
(personal communication) has provided what some people see to be evidence to
support the affirmative view on whether creativity can be taught. Before starting
a series of divergent thinking activities, a kindergarten class responded to their
teacher’s questions with answers that were few in number and rather unimaginative
in content. For example:

Teacher: What would the three bears do to Goldilocks?

Children: 1. Eat her. 2. Chase her away. 3. Ring police to come and get
her.

Four weeks later, after practising divergent thinking skills, their answers were
more numerous and more imaginative. For example:

Teacher: How would the bears keep Goldilocks out of their house?
Children: 1. Lock the doors. 2. Hang a sign, ‘Back in five minutes’. 3.
Guard dog. 4. Bars on windows. 5. Alarm. 6. Sprinkler system that went
off when you knocked on door. 7. Build a trap outside front door. 8.
Use wet soggy cornflakes instead of porridge to deter her. 9. Put up a
sign, ‘We eat blonde haired girls for breakfast.’

As much fun as this is, a stronger approach here, I would claim, would be not
only to develop divergent thinking skills but to embed such activities in a
programme of critical literacy, for which reading goes beyond word decoding and
personal response to reflecting on, questioning and critiquing what the author has
written. In this vein, Haydey, Kostiuk and Phillips (2007) suggested a series of lessons
on delightful variations of the traditional story of The three little pigs (Galdone, 1984),
considered from other perspectives: a dominant perspective (The true story of the three
little pigs, Scieszka, 1989); an oppositional stance (The three little wolves and the big
bad pig, Travias & Oxenbury, 1993); and an alternative, marginalised or minority
view (The fourth little pig, Celsi, 1992). For another take on this piece of “true fiction”
(Templeton, 1999), see the Three Little Pigs “Open Journalism” advertisement for
The Guardian, accessible at www.youtube.com/watch?v=3xIgq13mX3A.
That divergent thinking can be fun and should be used in all subject areas is
demonstrated by the following examples in Mathematics, from Marjoram (1988,
pp. 74–75):
 Pedagogical strategies 73

On one occasion [a class was] asked for as many continuations as possible to

the sequence, 2, 3, 5, . . . . Within a month the class between them had
produced over 100 solutions each with the given generating procedure. On
another occasion, ‘All similarities between 49 and 121’ yielded the following
class response:
Both odd
Both squares (of odd primes)
Leave remainder 1 when divided by: 2, 3, 4, 6, 8, 12, 24
Sum of digits is 4 (and hence remainder 4 when divided by 9)
Remainder 13 when divided by 18, 36
49 = 85 – 36 & 121 = 85 + 36
49base 28 = 121base 10

These examples show, inter alia, the value of open-endedness in the classroom as
a means of addressing (or, perhaps, coping with) individual differences in thinking.
The child who responded that both 49 and 121 are odd could be thanked for that
contribution, as could the other child who was capable of providing the base 28/base
10 response, and who was not restricted to one simple, “right” answer. As a means
of developing mental playfulness in students, especially in those who are low risk
takers, open ended, synthesis-type tasks may be justified, provided they do not
remain at a trivial content level beyond this initial phase. Solutions offered, as well
as solutions that are not found by the students (such as, in the example above, both
49 and 121 can be expressed as the difference of two squares), can be used to draw
attention to deeper, more generalised mathematical truths.
The following examples are teaching strategies that are thought to be effective
in developing and promoting thinking skills and creativity in children and youth,
and to offer them support for approaching the solutions to problems. For each, I
give an overview of the strategy or technique and, where it is available, comment
on the research support for its appropriateness and effectiveness in teaching children.
So as not to emphasise one strategy over another, the order of the list is alphabetical,
except for brainstorming, perhaps the best known of these strategies, to which I draw
attention first.

Creative problem solving strategies and techniques

Brainstorming
Brainstorming means “using the brain to storm a problem” (Osborn, 1963, cited
in Stein, 1974b, p. 25). It has long been the best known and most widely applied
technique for stimulating creativity, and it still is. One romantic way of illustrating
74 Pedagogical strategies

this term comes from an anecdote about how a mere secretary helped an important
engineer to solve a problem: “The secretary seeded a cloud of confusion with an
idea that released a brainstorm” (Bittel, 1956, cited in Stein, 1974b, p. 25; for an
extensive, objective and still relevant discussion of brainstorming, see Stein, 1974b,
pp. 25–141).
Brainstorming was the brainwave of Osborn (1942), with the rules and prin-
ciples set out in Osborn (1953), but since its conception as a collaborative idea
generating technique and group problem solving strategy it has evolved into many
variations such as Brainstorming with Post-Its® and Brainwriting. There are four
key guidelines for Brainstorming, which in CPS hold for any activity seeking to
generate ideas: defer judgement; strive for quantity; freewheel; and look for
connections. Typically, brainstorming needs a focus issue or question, and a leader,
and proceeds by thinking up imaginative, unusual, even wild possible solutions,
writing them down immediately, and then evaluating them. Reasons why
brainstorming might not be successful include: interacting within a limiting process
structure; blocking (only one person can talk at a time); applying judgement inappro-
priately; evaluation apprehension (some participants avoid expressing themselves);
giving up on the group (free riding, the sucker effect); it only uses free association
of thoughts, and tends not to create many ideas that challenge or break away from
the prevailing paradigm; and personality differences or clashes (face-off) (Halpern,
1989; Isaksen et al., 2011; Treffinger, Young & Isaksen, 1998).
Evidence in support of the effectiveness of brainstorming mostly comprises
evaluations of applications in the business world with adult participants (Isaksen,
2008). In a review of studies conducted up to about 1990, Diehl and Stroebe (1991)
reported that there was not much research that supported Osborn’s claim that group
brainstorming significantly increased creative output when compared with the
collated ideas from a group of individuals. Their research, rather, showed that, given
equal time, “real” brainstorming groups produced fewer ideas than groups of
individuals who produced ideas independently of one another and whose work
was collated into that of a “nominal” group for the purposes of the study. Fifteen
years later, in a paper promoting brainstorming in “gifted education”, Isaksen and
Gaulin (2005) responded by outlining an exploratory study, involving post-
secondary college students, that aimed to demonstrate the difference a facilitator
might make in this kind of group work. Using a measure of fluency to compare
groups, they actually found, as above, that “nominal” group brainstorming signifi-
cantly outperformed “real” group brainstorming; they also found that facilitated
groups even more significantly outperformed non-facilitated groups, but it is not
at all made clear what the contribution of the “trained facilitator” entailed.
In searches of the Internet using ERIC, ProQuest and Advanced Google Scholar I
was unable to find any refereed papers reporting the findings of formal research
on the appropriateness and effectiveness of various forms of brainstorming for gifted
children or for school children in general. Echoing research papers by Taylor, Berry
and Block (1958) and MacKinnon (1978), both of which found that brainstorming
inhibits creative thinking, Runco (2007, p. 196) argued that “brainstorming
 Pedagogical strategies 75

probably inhibits divergent thinking, because people have a tendency toward social
loafing”. In fact, Runco further questions why brainstorming is still used at all. When
we teach and use brainstorming as a thinking skills strategy in the classroom context,
rather than “teaching creativity” we might simply be helping our students to work
cooperatively and collaboratively together.
Because of the various reasons noted above why brainstorming might not be
successful, a related strategy called brainwriting has been introduced. Brainwriting
refers to the silent, written generation of ideas by individuals, which are then shared
in various ways with the whole group. The group involvement is individualistic,
yet focused on a group issue, and the solutions are derived from collective input
as each participant builds the group’s ideas. This process can also allow the group
to rapidly and simultaneously produce ideas and solutions to one or more problems
or issues. Two approaches to brainwriting are recognised: nominal ideas in a group
that are not shared with other group members while the ideas are being generated;
and interacting ideas that are shared for additional stimulation (e.g. 6–3–5
Brainwriting, in which each of six participants in a group thinks up three ideas
every five minutes for six cycles). In many real world contexts, the group work
for brainwriting can be conducted using information and communication
technologies, such as Wikis, Blogs and Microblogging (Isaksen et al., 2011).

3Bs
Broad (keep statements broad so that thinking is not restricted); Brief (limit the
number of words used to express ideas); Beneficial (express statements or ideas in
a positive or affirmative way) (Treffinger et al., 2006).

5WH
(Who? What? Where? When? Why? How?) This strategy is useful for exploring
data (Isaksen et al., 2011).

ALUo
(Advantages, Limitations, Unique features, and overcoming limitations; or, ALoU,
Advantages, Limitations and how to overcome them, and Unique features; similar
to PMI, Plus, Minus, Interesting). ALUo is a strategy to help analyse, develop and
refine promising options or solutions. The process involves identifying advantages
or strengths of an option; identifying its limitations; identifying its unique qualities;
and finding ways to address and overcome the limitations (Isaksen et al., 2011).

Analogies and metaphors

In the past decade, there has been a resurgence of interest in how analogy and
metaphor can be used to reason and to solve problems, particularly by experts (for
76 Pedagogical strategies

example, see Geake, 2009a; and for a biased selection of historical sources, see
Anderson, 1981; Gick & Holyoak, 1980; Goswami, 1992; McAuliff & Stoskin,
1987; Singley & Anderson, 1989; Vosniadou & Ortony, 1989). In analogical prob-
lem solving, the idea is that, to find a solution to one problem (the target problem),
a solution to an analogous problem (the source problem) is sought. Gick and
Holyoak (1980) found that this process depends on three steps: seeing that there
is an analogical connection between the target problem and the source problem;
making a connection between the corresponding analogous parts of the two
problems; applying these connections to generate an analogous solution to the target
problem. Gordon (1961; the originator of the group called “Synectics” – see below)
gave guidelines as to how four different types of analogy can be used in problem
solving: personal analogy; direct analogy; symbolic analogy; and fantasy analogy.
One way to proceed is to list several analogical categories (such as food, holidays,
music, cultures, habitats, and so on), and for each category expand on a range of
sub-categories (for food, say, these might include spicy, barbeque, dessert, appetisers,
Moroccan, mum’s home cooking, and so on). Choosing either the current situation
or the ideal situation, the problem can now be described using the analogical
category. From the various descriptions, novel ideas can be generated, and these
in turn related back to the target problem (Halpern, 2003; Runco, 2007).
In an educational setting, Goswami (1992) has shown that, to a certain extent,
even three year old children can solve analogies, and that infants can reason about
relational similarity, which is the hallmark of analogy. However, there can be
problems that arise from using inappropriate analogies. For example, in a study of
33 second-year school students in Britain, Shipstone (1985) found that children’s
poor understanding of water flow, used as an analogy for electricity flow, led to
misconceptions about electricity. Some students also “assimilated” the analogy to
an existing misconception, which thereby received reinforcement. So, do be
cautious! To check the nature of the educational research on using analogies as a
strategy to solve problems, I conducted an advanced search using all of my
university’s Internet search engines, and using the terms (analogical reasoning
problem solving) and (children or students) and (gifted), restricting the search to
find refereed articles published since Goswami’s research in the early 1990s. Of
the 150 “hits”, most were in fact not relevant, or did not describe formal research,
or drew weak and unsurprising conclusions such as “gifted students need support
to realise their potential”. The best presentation of our current understanding of
this area of teaching is, in my opinion, still to be found in recent work by Goswami
(Goswami, 2007; and Goswami & Bryant, 2007).

Attribute listing
Attribute listing aims first to identify key elements of an object, task or problem,
and then to explore ways to modify, develop or change these attributes (Isaksen
et al., 2011; Stein, 1974a, pp. 214ff.).
 Pedagogical strategies 77

Borrow, adapt, or steal

These tactics are tried and true, and may well be the commonest strategies used
by people! A caveat: the idea is not to purloin, but rather to build on the ideas of
others (cf. Runco, 2007).

Consider the natural world

“Nature is a wonderful thing. It is inspiring . . . and suggestive” (Runco, 2007, p. 328).

Concept map
A concept map is a kind of mind map that summarises patterns and relationships
between ideas and facts. It is the delineation of relationships between the ideas and
facts that make concept maps a stronger and richer tool to use than simpler mind
maps. The nature of a relationship between concepts is shown by connecting
the concepts by a directional arrow and, all too often neglected, by writing a label
on the arrow. Cornish and Garner (2009) have reported the benefits of concept
maps to be: concept mapping leads to straight thinking; concept mapping enriches
thinking; concept mapping provides a simple way to describe often complex
relationships; and creating a concept map is far quicker than writing prose, or even
dot points for that matter (cf. “Mind Map”).

Contradiction
In order to solve the problem, look for the opposite of what you want to find out
(cf. Dialectics (Halpern, 2003)).

Contrarianism
If you would like to be original, being contrary is a good way to achieve this (caveat:
when used as a means to an end; otherwise the creativity is limited so much that
it lacks value and usefulness) (Runco, 2007).

Controlled weirdness
It may be the case that weirdness is original, and that creativity is original, but that
does not make weirdness creative – too much weirdness is simply weird. However,
some weirdness can go a long way (Barron, 1993, cited in Runco, 2007). Runco
(2007, p. 341) further advised, “Don’t be a damn fool!”

CoRT
CoRT stands for Cognitive Research Trust, founded in 1969 by Edward de Bono
and based on the premise that thinking is a skill that can be taught and learned
78 Pedagogical strategies

and developed. The educational programme CoRT, named after the so-called
research trust, is a systematic series of lessons, first introduced in 1973, for teaching
a range of problem solving strategies or executive thinking strategies. The
programme comprises six cycles of ten lessons, which introduce 12 thinking tools
(for example, PMI) and are completed by a framework for solving problems (PISCO:
Purpose, Input, Solutions, Choice, Operation). The emphasis in these lessons is
the development of thinking skills, and any discussion is not encouraged. The 12
CoRT thinking tools are great for those who love acronyms, and comprise:

ADI – Agreement, Disagreement, Irrelevance

AGO – Aims, Goals, Objectives
APC – Alternatives, Possibilities, Choices
C & S – Consequence and Sequence
CAF – Consider All Factors
EBS – Examine Both Sides
FIP – First Important Priorities
FOW – Find Other Ways
OPV – Other Points of View
PMI – Plus, Minus, Interesting
TEC – Target, Expand, Contract
Yes, No, Po – the “Po” comes from hypothesis or proposal, or can be
provocative.

Four levels of achievement in the CoRT program are described: general awareness
of thinking as a skill (with no mention of any particular CoRT tool); a more
structured approach to thinking and a search for alternatives (with mention of some
CoRT tools); directed, focused and deliberate use of some CoRT tools; fluent use
of several CoRT tools, with metacognition (de Bono for Schools, 2012; Cornish
& Garner, 2009, pp. 289–293).
De Bono claims that CoRT is supported by robust research. However, the
evidence for the effectiveness of CoRT appears to be essentially anecdotal: both
de Bono for Schools (2012) and the “authorised” de Bono website (Edward de
Bono, n.d.) offered “evaluations” that appear to be no more than a collection of
success stories and testimonials in support of de Bono products, and provided
hyperlinks to 15 or more articles, one of which reports the findings of formal research
on the CoRT program. This “major study”, entitled “Students trained to apply
CoRT thinking tools”, is presented as excerpts from Edwards, Research and Realities
in Teaching and Learning, undated and with no further publication details. The key
finding of this paper appeared to be that, in a subsequent national test, about 50
per cent of the CoRT group scored above the mean, which is certainly neither
surprising nor remarkable. A search of the Internet using all of my university’s library
database search engines failed to locate this publication, although 11 papers that
cited Edwards (2000), with nary a mention of CoRT, were uncovered. The only
three publications by Edwards that I could track down were Edwards (1991),
 Pedagogical strategies 79

Edwards (n.d.) and Ritchie and Edwards (1996). The first article (Edwards, 1991)
summarised the status of sparse and poorly designed research on CoRT up until
1990. The second article (Edwards, n.d.), presumably a 1992 non-refereed
conference paper outlining the results of several studies (one of which was
controlled but with no comparative intervention group), actually presented
anecdotal evidence and post hoc qualitative data; reported significant improvement
only in the self rating Thinking Approaches Questionnaire (TAQ) and some
academic gains in language and arts; noted serious problems with validity and
reliability of measures of student thinking; and concluded that the effectiveness of
programmes such as CoRT has not been carefully evaluated by independent
researchers. The third article (Ritchie & Edwards, 1996), a refereed journal article,
reported quite negative results for Aboriginal children following the implementation
of a CoRT programme.
Negative critiques that raise the issue of the lack of research support for de Bono’s
programmes have not been backward in coming forward. Nickerson’s (1988, p. 43)
earlier warning of “unsubstantiated claims, . . . one sided assessments . . . [and]
excessive promotionalism” has been echoed by Sternberg and Lubart (1999),
Moseley et al. (2005, pp. 133–140), and Runco (2007, pp. 247–248). For an example
of a practising teacher’s suggestions on how CoRT may be used in classroom
activities, see Johnson (2006a).

Deviation amplification
This involves experimentation by making minor changes to some aspect of the
problem, and to explore what these deviations (alternatives and variations) bring
to light (Runco, 2007).

Dialectics
The term dialectic refers to logical disputation or debate, and is often used to describe
the process of reconciling contradictions in ideas and beliefs, as well as interpreting
historical processes. Apart from being a philosophical system or three (Engels and
Marx usually get the blame, but for some reason the teaching programmes applying
dialectics with which I am familiar tend to neglect to mention Socrates, Plato,
Kant and Hegel), dialectics can be a useful teaching strategy for understanding the
way things are and the way in which change can take place. In such an educational
context, dialectics comprises three laws: everything is made up of opposites or
opposing forces; gradual change leads to a turning point; change proceeds in spirals
(rather than circles). Dialectics may be applied as a framework for debate about
issues, developing approaches to problems, and conflict resolution. This strategy
can be expanded by someone playing the role of the devil’s advocate. For a very
different way of learning about dialectics, see Fleck (2006). cf. Contradiction
(Dialectics for Kids, 2011).
80 Pedagogical strategies

Evaluation matrix
This form of evaluation helps to rank options so that it is easier to decide which
ones should be explored first. Using the structure of a matrix, each option can be
evaluated according to a set of criteria. The scoring for each criterion could
be binary, ranked, or scaled (Isaksen et al., 2011).

Experiment
Conducting an experiment can help to identify or to focus on the fundamental or
critical issues, and can suggest new and original options to explore. One form
of experimentation is to construct a concrete or abstract (perhaps mathematical)
model of the problem (Runco, 2007).

Force field analysis

This is a very useful strategy for approaching solutions to complex problems or
dealing with and managing situations related to change. It frames problems in terms
of “factors” (people, values, attitudes, needs, desires, traditions, regulations, resour-
ces, and so on) and systematically analyses them in terms of the extent to which
they are restraining forces aiming to maintain the status quo, or driving forces in
support of the desired change. To conduct a force field analysis, each participant
in the group writes two scenarios: the first describes the problem or situation if a
disaster were to occur; the second describes the ideal solution to the problem or
the ideal state of the situation. All of the scenarios are placed on a continuum (with
a centre line drawn between the ideal and the non-ideal descriptions). The group
then lists the negative forces that will make the problem solution or situation
non-ideal, and the positive forces that will make the problem solution or situation
ideal. The group can then use other generating and focusing strategies not only to
identify those factors that must be addressed and monitored if the problem is going
to be successfully solved or the situational change is going to be successful, but
also to produce ideas aimed at reducing the negative forces and enhancing the
positive forces (Agazarian & Gantt, 2005).

Forced fitting
Sometimes referred to as forced association or forced relationship, this strategy
attempts to combine two ideas that are seemingly unrelated. It is used to generate
ideas by looking at a randomly selected object (or a model or picture of it, or
simply an idea) to stimulate or prompt new ways of looking at an issue or
approaching a solution to a problem. That is, the object is forced to fit with the
problem (Isaksen et al., 2011).
 Pedagogical strategies 81

Generalisation and specialisation

Consider the problem as an example of a larger class of problems, or as a special
case. For some reason Halpern suggests that “tree diagrams” help in this type of
problem, but I am not completely convinced (Halpern, 2003).

Highlighting
After selecting hits and identifying hot spots, restate each hot spot as a problem
statement or opportunity statement, or reframe them as a single group of data,
idea, promising solution or possible direction to proceed (Isaksen et al., 2011;
Treffinger, Isaksen & Stead-Dorval, 2006).

Hints
Try to obtain as many hints as you can: tease out any additional information about
your problem (Halpern, 2003). Runco’s (2007, pp. 326–328) expansion of this
strategy dealt with the tactics of borrowing, adapting and stealing. For interesting
public debate on this issue, see any Australian newspaper on 7 October 2011, all
of which would have reported and commentated on the Australian High Court
determination on the appeal case that the rock band Men At Work had “copied”
two bars from the children’s song The Kookaburra Sits in the Old Gum Tree in the
signature flute riff in their song Down Under.

Hits and hot spots

After selecting hits, identify any groups of two or more of these hits that are related
by a common element, theme or issue (Isaksen et al., 2011).

Imagery trek
This strategy seeks new ideas and connections by first taking the person on a mental
trek, apparently away from the task at hand, and then returning with images and
impressions from the “journey”, which can be related to the problem and hence
develop new ideas or find a solution. cf. Visual Confrontation; Visual Excursion;
Guided Imagery (Isaksen et al., 2011; Schwab, 1991).

Keep an open mind

Openness, such as openness to new experiences, seems to be a common theme in
conceptions of creativity; those who have a tolerance towards ambiguity, for
example, might have an advantage in keeping an open mind, which in turn would
be an advantage in directing attention to new experiences and to serendipitous
discoveries (Runco, 2007).
82 Pedagogical strategies

Ladder of abstraction
The idea here is twofold: if a problem is narrowly defined or restrictive in the way
it is framed, restate the problem in a broader or more generalised form; or, if a
problem is too broadly presented and lacking perspective or direction, restate the
problem so that it is more sharply defined. Asking a question such as “Why?” will
help to move to a higher level of abstraction; asking a question such as “How?”
will help to move to a lower level of abstraction (Isaksen et al., 2011).

Lateral thinking
Lateral means diagonal to, or situated on, directed toward, or coming from the
side of an object. Lateral thinking problems can be (and should be!) enormous fun.
They tend to be presented as a problem statement with its solution, and the challenge
is to reason why the answer fits the information given in the problem statement.
But of course this kind of reasoning can be applied to any problem even when a
solution is not known. Many people describe lateral thinking as “thinking outside
the box”, but for creative thinking, in my opinion, it is just as important to “think
inside the box and see something there that no-one else has seen before”. Perhaps
a better metaphor for lateral thinking is, “when faced with a problem, do not dig
deeper, dig elsewhere”. Lateral thinking certainly requires a different approach to
problem solving, as far as possible casting out preconceived ideas and traditional
ways of thinking (de Bono, 1998).

Means–Ends Analysis
A Means–Ends Analysis or Means End Analysis (MEA) is a problem solving strategy
that could proceed in two ways. On the one hand, progress towards the overall
goal is supposedly made easier by forming sub-goals, and hence sub-problems, so
that there is a progressive forward-looking movement towards the overall goal.
Essentially it amounts to an “if . . . then . . .” statement: “if a, b, and c are achieved
then I can achieve d . . . .” On the other hand, the process combines reasoning that
looks forward towards the overall goal and backwards from that goal to the current
state. This allows the problem solvers to focus on the actual differences between
the current state and that of the goal. Actions can then proceed that will reduce
the difference between the initial conditions of the problem and the end conditions
of the solution to the problem. Some of these actions will specifically address sub-
parts of the problem related to one aspect of the difference; other actions will
specifically focus on the aspect of the difference with the greatest perceived
importance (Halpern, 2003). Sweller (1991, p. 74) noted that this strategy is probably
the one that is most extensively studied, but that he knew of no evidence then that
demonstrates improved performance as a consequence of it being taught. A search
using all of my university’s Internet search engines found no formal research that
has been published since Sweller’s paper, on MEA applied in educational contexts.
 Pedagogical strategies 83

Mind map
First note the need for care with language, since “Mind Maps®” and “Mind
Mapping®” are registered trademarks of the Buzan Organisation (Buzan, 1991, 2012).
A mind map (I think that I am allowed to use that term) is analogous to “a visual
brainstorm” (Cornish & Garner, 2009, p. 83). It is a visual and verbal tool that
may be used to represent or illustrate complex situations or patterns of related ideas,
thoughts or processes. A mind map is often based on a single, central concept, to
which related ideas and sub-ideas are linked by lines in a radiating and expanding
way. It may incorporate colour, symbols and icons for emphasis, and its form may
stimulate the production of ideas or the drawing of connections between ideas.
A mind map provides a way to summarise descriptive information but usually
does not offer an analysis of how this information is interrelated (Moon, Hoffman,
Novak & Cañas, 2011; Vidal, 2006). Jonassen, Beissner and Yacci (1993) provided
a variety of techniques for representing, conveying and acquiring “structural
knowledge”. For examples from Science, say, Mayer (1989) provided an extended
review of 20 studies in which conceptual models were used as an aid to under-
standing of scientific explanations by lower aptitude students, while Cheng and
Simon (1995) and Ornek (2008) have shown how the use of diagrams can support
scientific discovery and creative reasoning. Any claim (e.g. Buzan, 1991, 2012)
that a mind map has somehow the same structure as memory, is correlated with
schemata, in some way reflects how the mind works, or that it actually recaptures
the way that someone really thinks, is not justified; rather, a mind map simply
serves as a mnemonic (cf. Concept Map).
Mind maps and concept maps are usually presented in the form of “Graphic
Organisers”, and many reproducible models are readily accessible as photocopiable
masters or online. For examples of good open source or public domain software
applications or apps, see: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_concept_mapping_
and_mind_mapping_software.

Morphological matrix
To generate ideas for an issue or a problem, first identify its major parameters; that
is, identify three or four of its key components or its principle variables. Then,
create a matrix and against each of these parameters list new ideas related to it.
Finally, match or combine ideas for the parameters to produce novel approaches
to the issue, which can be further explored. cf. Morphological Analysis;
Morphological Synthesis (Isaksen, Dorval & Treffinger, 2011; Stein, 1974a,
pp. 211ff.).

Paired comparison analysis (PCA)

This form of analysis helps to rank options so that it is easier to decide which ones
should be explored first. That is, for each pair of options, make a decision about
84 Pedagogical strategies

which one is better or preferred (this may be scaled if required). Guidelines that
strengthen this process include making the options clearly distinct from one
another, and making sure that the options are at the same level of abstraction and
are consistently worded (Isaksen et al., 2011.)

Question assumptions
Assumptions are good because they provide shortcuts for thinking and reduce
cognitive load; however, assumptions may be wrong, and may make it difficult to
consider new options or original approaches to problems (Runco, 2007).

Random search and trial-and-error

The strategy of a random search is self explanatory: “have a guess”, and see if it
works. A trial-and-error approach is a (slightly) more systematic variation of the
random search, whereby the errors are used to guide the next guess. These are
both useful strategies if there are few solution paths. They both are used far more
often than we might ever imagine (Halpern, 2003).

Redefine the problem

This may be achieved, among many other ways, by changing the way the problem
is represented, by changing the level of analysis, or by a process called “Zoom in,
and zoom out” – moving between a more general and abstract level of analysis of
the problem, and a more specific focus or sharply defined aspect of the problem
(Runco, 2007).

Reversal
When stuck for approaches to a problem, it can help to consider the opposite of
what is being sought. Reversing the problem statement will provide a different
perspective and hence generate new ideas, even if the solution set provided by this
new problem will tend to be the opposite of the solutions to the problem you
really want to solve. The original problem statement can be reversed by negating
the verb or by inserting the opposite of the subject or object. Solutions to the
original problem can then be sought by reversing, negating or looking at the opposite
of the solutions for the reversed problem (Vidal, 2006).

Restate the problem

This strategy is very useful for ill-defined problems. Supposedly, the more goal
statements you have, the more solution paths there will be (Halpern, 2003).
 Pedagogical strategies 85

Rules
Check for rules. Sometimes these are not given and need to be first sought out,
or you need to create or find your own by looking for patterns in the givens or
in the sub-goals (Halpern, 2003).

SCAMPER
Substitute, Combine, Adapt, Modify (or Magnify, or Minify), Put to other uses,
Eliminate, Rearrange, Reverse. The mnemonic SCAMPER was suggested by
Eberle in response to a list of idea generating questions used by Osborn (1953).
The elements of SCAMPER can be phrased as statements or as questions and used
in any order in order to stimulate ideas, responses to issues, or discussion. It could
be used as a framework for a lesson plan or learning activity (see, for example, the
SCAMPER graphic organiser free to download from the Victorian Curriculum
and Assessment Authority, 2009, website http://vels.vcaa.vic.edu.au/support/
graphic/scamper.html) (Isaksen et al., 2011).

Selecting hits
A hit, in this sense, is an option that is interesting or appealing. Selecting hits is a
focusing strategy, useful for screening a large number of options and identifying
essential data. In the selection of hits, criteria such as internal requirements,
personal experience or judgement, and “gut reaction” may be used (Isaksen et al.,
2011).

Sequencing (S-M-L)
This focusing strategy helps to plan action by categorising options according to
whether they are short-term, medium-term or long-term items. The timeframe
might refer to when the action is to be initiated, or when it is to be completed.
What is meant by short-, medium-, and long-term also needs to be made clear
(Isaksen et al., 2011).

Shift perspective
This tactic may be applied literally or figuratively, either physically or in an abstract
way. Other tactics such as Turn the situation upside down, and Deviation
amplification can help to shift perspective, as can actual travel (Runco, 2007).

Simplification
Try to simplify the problem: strip away as much irrelevant material as you can. This
presupposes, of course, that you can recognise what is irrelevant! (Halpern, 2003).
86 Pedagogical strategies

Six Thinking Hats®

Teaching children (or adults, for that matter) how to decide the appropriate timing
of various roles in group interactions (for example, when to judge, when to
challenge, when to support, and so on) is just as important as other group problem
solving strategies. De Bono (1987, pp. 199–200) has addressed this aspect of creative
problem solving in one of his popular books:

The six thinking hats method is designed to switch thinking away from the
normal argument style to a mapmaking style. This makes thinking a two
stage process. The first stage is to make the map. The second stage is to choose
a route on the map. . . . The great value of the hats is that they provide
thinking roles. A thinker can take pride in playacting each of these roles.
Without the formality of the hats, some thinkers would remain permanently
stuck in one mode (usually the black hat mode [i.e. negative judgement;
why an idea will not work or cannot be done]).

In the Six Thinking Hats® strategy, de Bono separates thinking into six cate-
gories that help students to focus on one style of thinking at a time, so that at the
end of the process the particular issue or problem will have been approached from
six different perspectives. The six thinking categories are signified by six (real or
metaphorical) coloured hats, which are:

Blue Hat – process or metacognitive thinking, organising thinking and

planning for action;
White Hat – facts or objective thinking, seeking information in a neutral way;
Green Hat – creative thinking, including provocation (“Po”, another buzz
term from de Bono; cf. CoRT) and solutions to Black Hat issues;
Yellow Hat – benefits or positive thinking, seeking advantages with logical
reasons;
Black Hat – cautions or negative thinking, seeking disadvantages with logical
reasons;
Red Hat – feelings or emotional thinking, using intuition with no reasons
given.
(de Bono for Schools, 2012; Cornish & Garner, 2009)

De Bono has claimed that the Six Thinking Hats® strategy is tested by time and
“proven”. For evidence, de Bono for Schools (2012) offered evaluations that appear
to be no more than a collection of success stories and testimonials in support of
de Bono products, and provided hyperlinks to 15 articles, none of which reports
the findings of any formal research on Six Thinking Hats®. A search of the Internet
using all of my university’s database search engines failed to find any refereed articles,
published since 1980, reporting the findings of formal research on the effectiveness
of using the Six Thinking Hats® strategy in a school setting, a point that is also
 Pedagogical strategies 87

critiqued by Moseley et al. (2005, pp. 133–140). For a practising teacher’s

suggestions on how the “thinking hats” may be used to guide student participation
in “class meeting” discussions, see Moore (1997).

SPELT
SPELT (Strategies Program for Effective Learning/Thinking) is a cognitive and
metacognitive strategy-based approach to learning. It was developed in Edmonton
by Mulcahy and his colleagues, and is used by teachers in several countries,
including Canada, Australia, India, New Zealand and Korea. SPELT comprises
three phases: students are made aware that strategies exist; they are taught how to
evaluate, modify and extend these strategies; they then generate their own strategies.
This process reflects the fact that merely teaching strategies does not suffice: rather,
the strategies need to be internalised in the sense that they are made relevant and
meaningful to each student. As such, the programme is not simply teaching strate-
gies, but teaching strategic thinking. The various strategies are introduced in a
specified programme comprising seven steps: motivation (for using systematic
strategies); demonstration of the value of using a particular strategy; modelling the
use of a particular strategy; memorising the strategy by drill; memorising the strategy
by practice; teacher feedback; and using the strategy to solve a similar problem
(showing that the problem solving task is more efficient and more effective when
the strategy is used) (Cornish & Garner, 2009; Knight, Paterson & Mulcahy, 1998;
Mulcahy, 1991; Mulcahy, Marfo, Peat, & Andrews, 1986; Mulcahy, Peat, Andrews,
Darko-Yeboah, Marfo & Cho, 1991; Peat, Mulcahy & Darko-Yeboah, 1989).
The SPELT programme has been extensively evaluated in Canada in formal,
controlled studies, although unfortunately some of these were retrospective. The
findings from this body of research suggested that strategy-based instruction could
substantially increase levels of achievement, especially for students who have
learning difficulties or disabilities (Peat, Wilgosh & Mulcahy, 1997). An advanced
search of the Internet, using ProQuest, ERIC and Google Scholar, and restricted to
refereed papers published since 1997 and reporting the findings of research, found
three kind-of-sort-of relevant articles (dealing with metacognition; self regulated
learning; and a single case study examining the effectiveness of SPELT in developing
problem solving skills for an adult with bipolar disorder – Allan, 2000).

Split-half method
This strategy is useful if there is a solution at some unspecified point along a
continuum. For example (although naturally this approach may be used in far less
practical applications), if you have a blocked drain, check half-way along the drain,
then half-way again in the section of the pipe where the blockage is, and so on
(Halpern, 2003). In general, there are more effective mathematical models for
conducting such checks, if there are costs involved with each check, or if you
have limited equipment that may be damaged depending on the situation, for
88 Pedagogical strategies

which there is a very neat application of triangular numbers (Michalewicz &

Michalewicz, 2008).

Synectics
In 1960, George Prince and William Gordon originated a group called Synectics,
Inc. (but now cf. Synecticsworld, www.synecticsworld.com/), and although the
name Synectics, which refers to their practice or process of problem solving, is
trademarked, the term has found wider usage as a word in its own right. As a
problem solving strategy, synectics is a tool for generating ideas that taps into the
emotional and the irrational to generate free associations between seemingly
random words and concepts. This process is called “springboarding”, and is some-
what akin to expanding brainstorming by using metaphor and analogy, followed
by an evaluation process that accommodates emerging but not yet feasible ideas
(Gordon, 1961). However, synectics claims to be more demanding than
brainstorming, and to be more effective as it results in action and not just words
or ideas. For an extensive, objective and still relevant discussion of Synectics, see
Stein (1974b, pp. 172–221).
Note that synectics was developed for adults in the business world. An advanced
search of the Internet, using all of my university library’s database search engines,
for research on the effectiveness of teaching synectics to school students, located
two articles: Joyce (1987) reviewed research up to that time on teaching models,
including synectics, but focuses on the relationship between professional learning
and student learning; and Meador (1994) conducted a controlled study of about
100 kindergarten students and found significant improvement in “creativity scores”
for both the gifted and the “nongifted” (sic) children in the experimental group,
who had received “special training in synectics”. For a more detailed explanation
of synectics applied in an educational context, and practical examples of the
various types of analogy associated with it (sometimes described as “making the
strange familiar” and “making the familiar strange”), see Starko (2010, pp. 151–157).
For an example of a practising teacher’s suggestions on how synectics may be used
in classroom activities, see Johnson (2006b).

Travel
Perhaps travel is a stimulus for creative thinking because it provides a change of
perspective, because a comfortable place away from home is found, or because
travel itself is simply stimulating (Runco, 2007).

Visually identifying relationships (VIR)

This strategy is similar to forced fitting. It uses up to four different visual images
that are seemingly unrelated to the issue or problem in order to stimulate
ideas and responses and to make creative connections. Rather than just using visual
 Pedagogical strategies 89

images, this strategy could be extended to include stimuli from any, or some
combination, or all of the senses (Isaksen et al., 2011; Treffinger, Isaksen & Stead-
Dorval, 2006).

Walk and read

I find this strategy excellent when I am stuck on a problem, and my work on it,
including attempted solutions, approaches to solutions and other related ideas, is
in written form. It is similar in some ways to Imagery Trek, but rather than going
on a “mental trek”, you actually go on a physical walk. This is best done alone.
Depending on the nature of the problem, this could be a short walk in the park
or along the beach, a day-walk in a national park, or an extended wilderness walk.
The idea is simply to take on the walk a hard-copy of what is written down, and
a pencil: as you walk along, read the document out aloud to yourself (this step is
very important); use the pencil simply to mark in the margin, just with an “X”
and quickly so that the flow of your reading is not interrupted, places where new
ideas or connections or corrections come to mind as you are reading; when you
are back in the comfort of your office or home (or sitting around the campfire
out in the bush), revisit the places marked “X” and annotate at length. For other
approaches to this technique, see Gros (2014).

WIBNI and WIBAI

Wouldn’t it be nice if . . .? Wouldn’t it be awful if . . .? (Treffinger, Isaksen &
Stead-Dorval, 2006).

Withholding judgement
One of the four key guidelines for brainstorming is to withhold or defer judgement.
However, the old wisdom that withholding judgement was the key to creative
problem solving has long been challenged. Evans and Deehan (1988) argue that
effective problem solving comes from first determining, before starting work on
the problem, what criteria the solution must satisfy, and to keep these criteria in
mind as the problem solving proceeds. Perkins (1986) carefully explains why
withholding judgement may not be the best approach:

Premature closure is an explanatory notion in many writings on creative

problem solving. Presumably, creative efforts often fail because not enough
alternatives are considered. People accept the first adequate but prob-
ably mediocre solution they think of, when they could discover much better
ones by persisting. Their failure could be described as a failure to search longer
– to deliberately push beyond early ideas and find more options before
selecting.
(p. 137)
90 Pedagogical strategies

I noted that premature closure tended to be diagnosed as a disease of not

searching long enough. But various lines of evidence suggested that the
difficulty had more to do with not having a clear concept of the problem
and not maintaining high enough standards. When problems were clear and
standards high, long searches would occur as necessary. But advised to search
long as a matter of course, people would list ideas by trading quality for
quantity, select not all that wisely, and finish with no better result than if
they had tried to think of one or two ‘best’ solutions in the first place.
(p. 203)

None of my university’s Internet search engines was able to locate any refereed
articles, published since 1990, presenting the findings of research on any aspect of
withholding judgement as a problem solving strategy, including in brainstorming
activities, for school aged children.

Working backwards
This strategy is useful to use if there are fewer paths leading from the goal than
there are from the start. It is possible, of course, to also combine this approach
with the usual method of working forwards. cf. Means–Ends Analysis (Halpern,
2003).

Concluding remarks
This chapter has served to introduce a purposively selected range of strategies and
techniques commonly used in education to develop, foster and promote thinking
skills, creativity and problem solving ability. Along the way – and I make no
apologies if it may sound like a diapsalmata or all too common refrain – I have
looked askance here and raised an eyebrow there concerning the lack of (formal)
evidence supporting the use of these strategies and techniques in teaching children
and adolescents. On this extremely important point I am not alone: four decades
ago, for example, Stein (1974b, p. 141) warned, “In studying these techniques we
need to learn more about which of them will be the most effective with what
kinds of problems as used by different kinds of persons.”
Many such teaching strategies and techniques, which are claimed to promote
or engage divergent thinking and convergent thinking, or to “enhance creative
thinking”, are to be found in the “gifted education” literature. For example,
extensive suggestions are offered and recommended by Renzulli (1977) for
inclusion in the Type II activities of the Enrichment Triad Model, and by
Feldhusen and Kolloff (1986) for inclusion in Stage 2 of the Purdue Three-Stage
Model of enrichment. In fact, such “creativity training” is to be found in some
form or other in most enrichment models and enrichment material available for
gifted and talented children, often as a preliminary to individual or small group
investigations or creative problem solving related to solving “real problems”.
 Pedagogical strategies 91

However, if what I am arguing is at least partially true, that what we are doing
when we “teach creativity” is rather to provide opportunities and introduce media
and explore avenues for the expression of creativity, then many of these strategies
and techniques are ideally applicable to general pedagogy.
Another issue I have with lists of strategies and techniques, such as the biased
sample that I have presented in this chapter, is that they are often presented out
of context, that they usually lack a pedagogical framework and hence are
unstructured and seemingly divorced from the teaching and learning process itself.
To be effective, these teaching strategies and techniques to enhance creative
thinking need to be set within a theory of what needs to be taught, and why, a
point clearly made by Baron (1993) in response to the question, “Why teach
thinking?”
Of course, the key purpose of this book is to develop a pedagogical framework
for creative problem solving, for which you will need to wait until Chapter 8.
Having said that, while you will find a model there, you will find no specific strategy
or technique favoured over others as they are considered simply and utterly to be
tricks of the teaching trade. For those who are impatient and are looking for a
step-by-step manual, an accessible Australian example, set within the framework
of the “enquiry based learning experience” and brimming with “thinking
strategies”, can be readily found in Kruse (2009).
At the same time, it does need to be kept in mind that “teaching” these strategies
and techniques may have a very different effect on student learning than what the
teacher intends or envisages. That is, what the teacher thinks is being taught may
well be very different from what is actually being learned by the student.

∞
5
CREATIVITY AND COGNITION

Analogy pervades all our thinking, our everyday speech and our trivial conclusions as well
as artistic ways of expression and the highest scientific achievements.
(Pólya, 1945, p. 37)

In this chapter we will discuss:

• how children and adolescents learn, set within the conceptual framework of
Dewey’s communities of enquiry and a transformative approach to learning
and teaching;
• Flynn’s models of intelligence and of wisdom;
• the role of memory, knowledge, metacognition, schemata, cognitive load, self-
efficacy and giftedness in how intelligence is applied to solving problems with
cognitive content;
• the importance of transfer in creativity and problem solving.

Introductory remarks
In conversations, my Greek professor Douglas Templeton would often pause, furrow
his brow, and, perhaps after a lengthy silence, utter words of deep wisdom. On
one such occasion, he said, “There is not what there is not.” What he meant of
course is that there is nothing so outlandish that there is not someone somewhere
who does not believe it. Here, then, is some of what there is.
In this chapter we are considering aspects of cognition as they lend themselves
or are applied to creative thinking and problem solving. This is important because,
for example, “creativity is a reflection of cognition, metacognition, attitude, motiv-
ation, affect, disposition and temperament” (Runco, 2007, p. 320). Let it be said,
 Creativity and cognition 93

and said early, that matters related to cognition are not simple and straightforward.
The human propensity for oversimplification of the complex is seen in the still
commonly held view, found also in much of the early research, that creativity equates
with divergent thinking. Divergent thinking is one of the ingredients, but not
necessarily or always, or perhaps not at any time, the most important one. Other
important components include evaluative thinking (decision making, and good
judgement) and meta-thinking or metacognition (often tritely conceived of as
“thinking about thinking”). Similarly, the assumption that the right side of the
brain is directly related to creative thought, and that the left is concerned with
logical thinking, is a stereotype that, in light of recent brain research, needs to be
seriously reconsidered (Geake, 2009a). For a clear and timely demythologising of
popular educational “truths”, see Geake (2008a). The complexity of our developing
understanding of cognition will be seen in the list considered here of components
shown by recent research in cognitive neuroscience to impact on or affect each
person’s cognitive ability and how it is applied.
Since the aim of this book is to propose a pedagogical model of creative problem
solving, then at the same time as exploring the nature of cognition and intelligence
it is important to explore also the related issue of how children and adolescents
develop intelligence and ways to express it – that is, “How do children and
adolescents learn?” Some readers may prefer to pose the question, “How do gifted
children and adolescents learn?” Note at first that it is not clear the extent to
which these two questions are different or are related. Some researchers (Krutetskii,
1976) have found that there are both quantitative and qualitative differences
between how typical students learn and how students with high ability learn. Then
note that, in any case – and this is worth emphasising because it appears to be
something that is glossed over or overlooked or forgotten in many models of intel-
ligence and learning – how children think and learn differs from how adolescents
think and learn, and both of these are different from how adults think and learn
(Keating, 2011).
A further, pragmatic response to this question, or these questions, recognises
that “Learning has many sources. . . . Children’s learning includes active as well as
passive mechanisms and qualitative as well as quantitative changes. Children’s learn-
ing involves substantial variability of representations and strategies within individual
children as well as across different children” (Siegler, 2005, pp. 769f.).
Nevertheless, rather than focusing on active learning, over the past couple of
decades pedagogical theory has tended to be a postmodernist interpretation of some
form of constructivism promoting “student centred learning”. The accompanying
eleutheromania, in my opinion, has subjugated, elided or excised the participation
of the teacher in the learning-and-teaching process.
To be fair, Vygotsky (1978) did conceive of both intellectual development and
the expression of creativity as the internalisation or appropriation of cultural tools
set within a context of social interaction, for which the teacher, a “more know-
ledgeable other”, does play an important role. Here, internalisation is not simply
copying but rather reorganising and transforming incoming information and mental
94 Creativity and cognition

structures based on individual characteristics and existing knowledge. Without

labouring the point, this means that information is not simply transmitted from
the environment and passively received without any alteration; rather, each person
filters, interprets, reinterprets and manipulates information through the lens of
his or her past experiences, existing knowledge and understandings, and personal
characteristics. Such an interpretive and transformative process reflects “the novel
and personally meaningful interpretation of experiences, actions, and events” des-
cribed by Beghetto and Kaufman (2007, p. 73) in their definition of personal
creativity that they termed “mini-c” (vide Chapter 2). Apart from hinting that
learning is in itself a creative act or a creative process, this does suggest that the
development of knowledge and creative expression have their genesis in mini-c
creativity. Hence, mini-c creativity highlights an important relationship between
active learning and creativity (Moran & John-Steiner, 2003).

Social constructivism
The conceptual framework for learning and teaching that tends to dominate the
horizons in many educational contexts is termed either constructivism or social
constructivism. The constructivist approach was developed (actually, it was revived)
in the mid 1980s in response to the notion that a blanket, one-size-fits-all approach
to curriculum did not take into account the individuality of the learner with his
or her unique prior knowledge and experiences (Driver, 1988). In a constructivist
approach, learners are considered to “construct knowledge” as a result of interaction
between their current conceptions and ongoing experiences. Such a perspective
has six key features:

Knowledge is not objective; it is dynamic in nature and is personally con-

tructed. It is problematic in the sense that the learner evaluates it with respect
to the extent to which it is coherent with his or her previous knowledge and
experience.
Curriculum is not a body of content that is to be learned; it is a programme
of learning tasks, activities, materials and resources from which learners
construct their knowledge.
Teaching is not the transmission of knowledge; it involves the organisation
and design of learning tasks and activities in a way that promotes scientific
learning.
Teachers bring their own baggage with them (their philosophy of teaching
and learning, their way of looking at the world or Weltanschauung, their subject
knowledge, their knowledge and skills and experiences) to the learning
environment.
Learners are not passive; they do bring their prior knowledge and experiences
with them to the learning environment, but they are responsible for their own
learning.
 Creativity and cognition 95

Learning is an active process that occurs through interpersonal negotiation; it

involves the construction of knowledge and meaning, and requires effort.
(Driver, Asoko, Leach, Mortimer, & Scott, 1994;
Driver & Leach, 1992; Pegg & Tall, 2005)

The social constructivist approach aims to create a learning environment that provides
the social setting for the “construction of knowledge” (Cornish & Garner, 2009).
Much of the cited inspiration for social constructivist approaches has come from
the work of Vygotsky (1978), who quite reasonably argued that “properly organised
learning results in [cognitive] development” (p. 90). Vygotsky’s key idea was that
social interaction plays a fundamental and significant role in the development of
cognition, so much so that mental constructs cannot fully develop without social
interaction:

Every function in the child’s cultural development appears twice: first, on

the social level, and later, on the individual level; first, between people (inter-
psychological) and then inside the child (intrapsychological). This applies
equally to voluntary attention, to logical memory, and to the formation of
concepts. All the higher psychological functions originate as actual relations
between human individuals.
(Vygotsky, 1978, p. 57)

Learning, therefore, is not simply the “construction of knowledge” per se, but
rather the transformation of social knowledge into individual knowledge, and the
development of individual knowledge results in the creation of the mental
constructs that represent this knowledge.
For children, much of what is learned is clearly acquired from interaction and
experiences with family, peers, teachers, and “more knowledgeable others”. The
child’s knowledge will necessarily be closely related to the culture in which and
through which this knowledge is expressed, and also closely related to the social
values of the community of people with whom the child learns. Vygotsky (1978)
emphasised the importance of active learning that is essentially cooperative in nature.
He suggested that:

learning and teaching should take place in learning groups;

the teacher should be steeped in the culture of the learner;
the teacher should direct and guide the learning activities; and
curriculum should emphasise social issues and language skills to ensure
communication within the learning group.

Vygotsky also reminded us that pedagogy, too, has to be active, that is, that the
teacher needs to teach and to model what is being taught. Vygotsky also showed
that students learn best when they are optimally challenged. This ideal learner state
96 Creativity and cognition

occurs within the Zone of Proximal Development (ZPD), when the learning activity
is aimed a wee bit beyond a student’s current level of learning, but not too far, so
that the student is able to bridge this gap in learning by being “scaffolded” – this
term is usually attributed to Bruner sometime in the late 1950s, or perhaps Bruner
(1966, p. 120), but the use of the term with respect to Vygotsky’s ZPD should, I
suspect, be credited to Wood, Bruner and Ross (1976) – through tips, hints,
questions and demonstrations by someone more knowledgeable and experienced.
Vygotsky (1978, p. 86) actually defined the ZPD in terms of problem solving ability
that has not yet matured but is in the process of maturing: “the distance between
the actual development level as determined by independent problem solving and
the level of potential development as determined through problem solving under
adult guidance or in collaboration with more capable peers.”
The point above about modelling what is to be taught draws attention to the
contribution to social learning theory by Bandura (1976), which, in my opinion,
has surprisingly been overlooked by most of the commentators on social
constructivism. Like Vygotsky, Bandura argued that learning is mediated by the
effect of social interaction on one’s cognitive processes; however, Bandura further
suggested that learning is the result of a continuous and reciprocal interplay
between cognition, behaviour and the environment (so that, for example, not only
does the learning environment affect the learner, but the learner has an affect on
the learning environment). Bandura then claimed that learners learn from others
through modelling, observation and imitation. First, when a respected person models
a behaviour with a particular result, a learner is motivated to learn by an expectation
of a similar outcome if the behaviour is emulated correctly. Second, learners learn
by observing the behaviour and attitudes of other people, and by observing the
outcomes of those behaviours and attitudes. Third, imitating the behaviour of others
develops one’s own mental models. “Most human behaviour is learned observation-
ally through modelling: from observing others, one forms an idea of how new
behaviours are performed, and on later occasions this coded information serves as
a guide for action” (Bandura, 1977, p. 22).
When observing or responding to models of behaviour, four components of
the learner’s own behaviour will have most effect on what the learner in turn models,
that is, on what is learned:

attention: attending to the significant features of the modelled behaviour, which

is affected by the characteristics of the learner, such as arousal level, sensory
abilities, perceptual set and past reinforcement;
retention: remembering what was attended to in the modelled behaviour, which
includes the learner’s ability to organise and store cognitive information in
long-term memory through symbolic coding and mental images, to carry out
symbolic rehearsal and motor rehearsal, and to retrieve information;
reproduction: reproducing the modelled behaviour, which will be constrained
by the learner’s physical capabilities and capacity for self observation when the
modelled behaviour is reproduced;
 Creativity and cognition 97

motivation: having a good reason to imitate the modelled behaviour, which

includes the expectation of receiving positive reinforcement for the modelled
behaviour, arising from past reinforcement, promised or imagined incentives,
or vicarious reinforcement
(Bandura, 1977)

Self-efficacy
Bandura is better known for his concept of self-efficacy, which refers to a person’s
belief about his or her capability to learn or perform effectively, a belief that is
extremely important when it comes to problem solving. We all tend to do things
that provide satisfaction and reinforce our sense of self worth, and we shy away
from things that are denigrating. Bandura (1997) argued that if we believe that we
cannot achieve a desired outcome from actions, then we have little or no motivation
to act, or to continue to act when faced with adversity. This is the case whether
or not our beliefs are justified. Self-efficacy, therefore, is closely related to the ability
to plan and achieve a desired outcome. It influences choice of task, how much
effort is made, how persistent one might be, and what is actually achieved. Bandura
believed that behaviour could be predicted by determining self-efficacy for a
particular task. Note that behaviour may not necessarily reflect actual capabilities
due to the potency of perceived self-efficacy. Accordingly, students with high self-
efficacy for particular tasks will participate more readily in those tasks, will work
harder, will tackle the challenges, and will persist when difficulties are encountered.
Conversely, students with low self-efficacy will resist engaging because they believe
that they will not succeed regardless of how hard they try (Ashman & Merrotsy,
2011, p. 75).
High self-efficacy is closely related to self regulated learners and successful learning
outcomes, a point to which we will return in Chapter 7. For example, according
to Stöger and Ziegler (2008a), the idea is that high self-efficacy and high expecta-
tions of success lead to persistence, using different strategies, and seeking help when
faced with difficulties. Self regulated learners monitor their work, which provides
internal feedback on progress. Such feedback following successful outcomes
enhances self-efficacy and raises expectations for further progress and success. Again,
given the exponential explosion in the amount of data accessible on the Internet,
and the ever-changing use and applicability of technologies, Caprara et al. (2008)
highlighted the need to teach self regulating efficacy in order to increase student
belief that it is possible to keep up-to-date with current technology, and avoid
becoming overwhelmed by its continual shift.

Transactionalist approaches to learning and teaching

When (social) constructivists talk of constructing knowledge, the question naturally
arises, for me at least: What is actually being constructed; what is it, really, that is
constructed? The theoretical answer to this question is an abstract notion of
98 Creativity and cognition

“structure” (cf. van Hiele, 1986), and the practical (if not tautological) answer
encompasses “knowledge”, “understanding” and “reality” (whatever those terms
might mean; and cf. Cornish & Garner, 2009), although to me these are just as
abstract as the theoretical answer. Such responses might be all very well and good,
for example, so long as the starting concepts and ideas, and the arrangement of
ideas and their interrelationships (the schemas) are valid (that is, are ones that are
“true” representations, and can be built upon). Thus a teacher’s ability to monitor,
diagnose, anticipate and predict student learning behaviour, knowledge and skills
becomes essential. Some of the recent research on this issue has involved developing
“intelligent tutoring systems” that contain a representation of the knowledge
that is to be communicated, with the “tutor” modelling teaching in the domain
(like an “expert”), thus providing the system with a dynamic form of expertise
(see, for example, Murray, 2003). In any case, the essential abilities of the teacher
and the search for an appropriate medium of communication are strongly suggestive
of the need for a deeper and more personal dynamic relationship between the teacher
and the learner. A conceptual framework for such a “mediated” and holistic model
of teaching and learning was developed by Dewey (1916, 1933, 1938a), which
I will term a transactional approach to teaching and learning.
Sarason (1996, p. 387) encapsulated Dewey’s inspiration in the following way:

Dewey said [I suspect that this is not literal] that knowledge is external,
knowing is internal. Knowledge for which you feel no sense of ownership,
which does not become part of your psychological bloodstream, which has
no self-reinforcing, motivational consequences, may be valuable in a game
of Trivial Pursuit but not in the game of meaningful living.

Learning is therefore not constructing knowledge or constructing reality, but

rather learning is developing habits of mind and of action for dealing with and relating
to the world, and learning is learning to think (Dewey, 1933). Both knowledge
and thinking are kinds of cognitive functions, and both are thoroughly immersed
in experiential situations; thinking, however, is highly structured, arising from less
structured experiences. Developing thinking develops the ability to learn. Dewey
(1933, pp. 125–127) explained: “Thinking makes possible action with a conscious
aim. . . . Thinking converts action into intelligent action. . . . It makes possible
systematic preparations and inventions. . . . It enriches things with meanings.”
At the same time, experiences arise from reciprocal transactions between a person
and his or her environment. Learning in the sense of actively thinking involves
active participation in human–world relationships, and active communication
between people who reciprocally affect and influence one another. Hence
transactional learning is set within an ethical framework and comprises:

active learning – learning by doing and modelling;

participation in authentic learning – real world and problem based learning;
involving reflection in and on learning – thinking “across” learning;
 Creativity and cognition 99

deep collaborative learning – learning by “acting across”;

holistic and process learning – whole-to-part and part-to-whole learning; cf.
the hermeneutical circle
(Maharg, 2006)

In such an environment, the learner is not confronted by an issue or problem that

they must understand. Rather, the learning experience transforms the learner’s
knowledge and understanding of the issue or problem.

A transformative approach to learning and teaching

Dewey’s thinking actually goes much deeper than what is described by transactional
approaches to learning and teaching. He perceived, in fact, that learning should
aim to be transformative, a process resulting in a transformation of perspective, or
what I would term a transformation of mind or metanoia, for both the learner
and the teacher: a change in understanding of oneself; a change in convictions and
revision of beliefs; and a change in lifestyle and behaviour (Dewey, 1933). Mezirow
(2000, pp. 7–8) explained that in this transformative process:

we transform our taken-for-granted frames of reference (meaning perspec-

tives, habits of mind, mind-sets) to make them more inclusive, discriminating,
open, emotionally capable of change, and reflective so that they may generate
beliefs and opinions that will prove more true or justified to guide action.
. . . [Its] focus is on how we learn to negotiate and act on our own pur-
poses, values, feelings, and meanings rather than those we have uncritically
assimilated from others – to gain greater control over our lives as socially
responsible, clear-thinking decision makers.

Such a critical and emancipatory pedagogy (this language will also be familiar
to students of Freire and Habermas) will immerse both the teacher and the learner
as co-learners in a learning environment characterised by democratic participation,
trusting relationships, intellectualism, dialogue, constructive and rational discourse,
opportunities for critical reflection, shared and collective learning, and experiential
learning activities with significant content (Reich, 2009; Ukpokodu, 2009).

Community of enquiry
Dewey (1938a) expressed the realisation of his transactional approach to learning
in a concept that has become known as “community of inquiry” (sic). The roots
of the term are apparently in Peirce (1868, 1877), in Dewey (1909, 1916, 1933,
1938a, 1938b), who expanded on Peirce’s notions and applied them so well in an
educational context, and even in Lipman (1954); however, in all of these
publications I was only able to find each of the terms “community” and “inquiry”
used separately. By using all of the Internet search engines available through my
100 Creativity and cognition

university’s library, as well as Google Scholar, the earliest specific use of the full term
“community of inquiry” that I could find was Novak (1967, p. 263), who used it
with respect to what Christianity might offer an individual in order to pursue a
concern for human values and the mystery of human life. And, a handful of
years later, Torbert (1973) used the term in the title of an education report on a
programme that aimed to help students from backgrounds of poverty gain admission
to college. Hereafter, I will reflect my proclivity for English and Australian spelling
by using the term “community of enquiry”.
Dewey’s idea was that learning is not arbitrary, but results from enquiry and
dialogue. For Dewey, the process of enquiry comprises emotional response,
definition of the problem, formation of hypotheses, testing and experimentation,
and application. He illustrated this “enquiry based learning” by using the metaphor
of a scientific laboratory, which involves opportunities for learning through an active
and dynamic process of investigating, probing, hypothesising, experimenting,
observing, reformulating, testing, deducing, constructing, theorising, discussing and
creative expression in cooperation with others in this learning community. In an
educational context, a community of enquiry, then, is seen to be a holistic com-
munity of students and teachers engaged in authentic enquiry (Reich, 2009), which,
according to Lipman (2003), is characterised by questioning, reasoning, making
connections, deliberating, challenging, and developing and applying problem
solving techniques.
Dewey’s ideal community of enquiry has inspired an educational programme
or movement called Philosophy for Children (the term Philosophy with Kids is also
used, for example by the Australian Council for Educational Research, and certainly
a far better term than P4C used in some contexts). The programme was initiated
in the late 1960s by Lipman (2003; the delightful Harry Stottlemeier’s discovery appeared
in 1969, and was subsequently published in Lipman 1974). Since then the
programme, or one of its variations, has found its way around the world (to “over
60 countries”, according to the Institute for the Advancement of Philosophy for
Children, cehs.montclair.edu/ academic/iapc/), and has been wonderfully translated
into the Australian context and idiom in Cam’s (1995) Thinking together and in his
Philosophical inquiry for children series.
Following Dewey, Lipman (2003) argued that learning is all about learning how
to think, and that learning and enquiry are predicated on community. In particular,
Lipman claimed that the discipline of philosophy, properly reconstructed and
properly taught, is an ideal framework for teaching critical thinking and can bring
about significant improvement of thinking in education. The concept of a com-
munity of enquiry certainly lends itself naturally to the teaching of philosophy,
but, whether or not philosophy is used as a tool, the methodology for teaching
critical thinking should be the pedagogy of a community of enquiry. A community
of enquiry provides the opportunity to learn through reflection as well as from the
experiences of others, in a safe environment for discourse, for exploring and
challenging ideas, for critically reasoning about and assessing and evaluating beliefs
and assumptions, and to practise and acquire the art of judgement. Lipman (2003,
 Creativity and cognition 101

pp. 18–19) provided guidelines for a reflective educational programme in which

communities of enquiry can occur:

education is the outcome of participation in a teacher-guided community of

enquiry, among whose goals are the achievement of understanding and good
judgment;
students are stirred to think about the world when our knowledge of it is
revealed to them to be ambiguous, equivocal, and mysterious;
the disciplines in which enquiry occurs are assumed to be neither non-
overlapping nor exhaustive; hence their relationships to their subject matters
are quite problematic;
the teacher’s stance is fallibilistic (one that is ready to concede error) rather
than authoritative;
students are expected to be thoughtful and reflective, and increasingly reason-
able and judicious;
the focus of the educational process is not on the acquisition of information
but on the grasp of relationships within and among the subject matters under
investigation.

What is intelligence?
When I was younger and therefore less wise, my wise Greek professor Douglas
Templeton once said to me, while celebrating in typical Scottish style a successful
ascent of a Munroe, admittedly before we had successfully descended, that, “It is
part, if not all, perhaps, of the academic task to succeed in failing to answer such
questions as do not enter the minds of others to ask.” It seems clear now, at least
from the vantage point of post-Templetonian man (sic), that conceptions of
intelligence that focus on mental acuity fall far short of explaining the cognitive
traits, habits of mind, contents of the mind, the values and attitudes needed to
direct commitment of time and mental energy, and so much more, that are necessary
for solving cognitively demanding problems. In his discussion on the concept of
intelligence, Flynn (2007, p. 53) asked, “What traits affect our ability to solve
problems with cognitive content?” The components that his research has shown
to be most important are:

mental acuity
habits of mind
attitudes
knowledge and information
speed of information processing
memory.

Working backwards through Flynn’s answers to his own question, memory is how
we retrieve stored data or access knowledge and information. Information processing
102 Creativity and cognition

is how we assimilate new data, and, for many kinds of real world, real life prob-
lems, the speed at which data can be assimilated and retrieved can be very important
if not critical. An enormous advantage in processing information is to have lots of
knowledge and information, and the more we have, the more problems we can
approach. Another enormous advantage in problem solving is to take problem
solving (and abstract problem solving) seriously, and such attitudes are a great
foundation for acquiring habits of mind. A third enormous advantage in problem
solving is to be able to change the way that we look at the world around us, and
to be able to detach our thinking from the concrete world and to think in more
abstract ways. Finally, or firstly, mental acuity refers to “the ability to provide on-
the-spot solutions to problems we have never encountered before, problems not
solvable by mechanical application of a learned method, and often requiring us to
create alternative solutions from which we must choose” (Flynn, 2007, p. 53).
Flynn also saw that intelligence is important on three levels – brain physiology,
individual differences, and social trends (BIDS) – and that each of these has its own
organising concept. First, the brain, for example, is organised according to a concept
that Flynn (2007, p. 56) termed “neural decentralisation”. Its functions are affected
by the density of glial cells, the number and nature of dendritic connections,
myelinisation of the axon, blood supply, dopamine for effective synaptic responses,
and inhibitors (or the lack of them) from the stress–response system. Experience
and specialised cognitive exercise (including what both Ericsson and Gagné would
term deliberate practice) result in highly specialised and highly localised clusters
of neurons. Second, performance differences between individuals tend, not
surprisingly, to correlate with respect to “the cognitive complexity of the task (fluid
g), or the posited cognitive complexity of the task toward mastery (crystallised g)”
(Flynn, 2007, p. 57). That is, there are individual differences in the speed of learning,
how much information is accumulated, and the level of abstraction of what is
learned. Third, different societies and cultures have different values and attitudes
that determine the nature of the cognitive problems that are worth the investment
of time and mental energy. These values and attitudes also change over time. Hence,
cognitive skills change over time at a social level, and are different across societies
and cultural groups.

Excursus: Gardner’s theory of multiple intelligences

It is apropos while dwelling on the concept of intelligence to at least pause a while
to reflect on Gardner’s (1999, 2011) theory of multiple intelligences, especially
considering its enormous use, and abuse, in educational practice. Gardner defined
or approached intelligence in two ways. First, intelligence is a “biopsychological
potential to process information that can be activated in a cultural setting to solve
problems or create products that are of value in a culture” (Gardner, 1999,
pp. 33–34). Second, coming directly from the initial work in the early 1980s, and
keeping the gender specific language intact:
 Creativity and cognition 103

To my mind [sic], a human intellectual competence must entail a set of

skills of problem solving – enabling the individual to resolve genuine prob-
lems or difficulties that he encounters and, when appropriate, to create an
effective product – and must also entail the potential for finding or creating
problems – thereby laying the groundwork for the acquisition of new
knowledge.
(Gardner, 2011, pp. 64–65, italics in the original)

The theory of multiple intelligences was derived from these definitions, along
with a synthesis of evidence about development, brain organisation and evolution,
and a conviction that the best model for understanding the way the brain works
is through various specific and differentiated modalities. The language describing
the multiplicity of this notion of intelligence is vague. For example, Gardner (2011,
p. 66) stated “a prerequisite for a theory of multiple intelligences . . . is that it captures
a reasonably complete gamut of the kinds of abilities valued by human cultures,”
so perhaps by “multiple intelligences” he really just meant “abilities” after all, in
which case it is not clear why any ability cannot be embraced as an intelligence.
Again, Gardner (cited in Lazear, 1991, p. vi) was equally vague when questioned
about the matter:

It sometimes surprises readers to learn that, as the author of the theory of

multiple intelligences, I have no special allegiance to the notion of seven
intelligences [the figure has since climbed to 81⁄2 (sic)] let alone the
seven specified in Frames of Mind and Seven Ways of Knowing. I am confident
that if there are seven intelligences, there must be more; and I am sure . . .
that each of these intelligences has subcomponents as well. My goal is to
convince readers of the plurality of intelligence and to offer a reasonable list
of what the several intelligences might be. Also, I should stress that, except
in the rarest case, intelligences work in combination.

Identification of one or more of the multiple intelligences is even less clear:

Ultimately, it would certainly be desirable to have an algorithm for the

selection of an intelligence, such that any trained researcher could determine
whether a candidate intelligence met the appropriate criteria. At present,
however, it must be admitted that the selection (or rejection) of a candidate
intelligence is reminiscent more of an artistic judgment than of a scientific
assessment.
(Gardner, 2011, p. 67)

There are other ways of interpreting the evidence proffered in support of the
theory. I, for one, baulk at the idea of describing the brain as a set of computers
(Gardner, 2011, p. xii), as the metaphor falls far too short of capturing what the
brain does and how it works. Claims of support from neuro-imaging studies appear
104 Creativity and cognition

to have missed dissenting voices from cognitive neuroscientists, or at least the ones
in Europe (Geake, 2009a). Similarly, claims that the “argument for modularity is
largely established” (Gardner, 2011, p. xxiii) would certainly seem to be far too
presumptuous: the construct of a “logical-mathematical intelligence”, for example,
seems to be better explained, in my mind, by Dehaene’s (1997) notion of “number
sense”; and a model of neural connectivity and dynamic interaction may well be
more appropriate than one based on modalities, with huge implications for
education (see Dehaene, 2009; and cf. Geake, 2009a).
Further critical appraisal of Gardner’s theory of multiple intelligences would also
question the extent to which such a model, based on a synthesis of the research
(conducted before 1983) involving brain injured adults and atypical people such
as those now referred to in the literature as savants (Feldman & Morelock 2011 –
far better than the earlier term idiots savants), is appropriate as a model for under-
standing the developing intelligence or mind of a young child or of a pubescent
teenager or adolescent. In fact, Gardner (2011, p. xii) warned that no educational
implications follow directly from his theory. He has questioned the implications,
including the educational implications, that have been drawn by others from his
model, and has emphasised that multiple intelligences should not be an educational
goal. And he has expressed concern at the numerous misinterpretations of the theory
that have regularly appeared, for example:

the confusion of intelligences with learning styles and the confounding of a

human intelligence with a societal domain. . . . I had also taken note of prac-
tices that I found offensive – for example, describing different racial or ethnic
group[s] in terms of their characteristic intelligences.
(Gardner, 2004, pp. 8–9)

Even if Gardner’s theory of multiple intelligences is an appropriate model for

children and youth, it is then not at all clear what the correct pedagogical responses
should be when particular intelligences are identified in an individual – there has
simply not been enough research conducted on this issue: “much work needs to
be done on the question of how the intelligences can best be mobilised to achieve
specific pedagogical goals” (Gardner, 2011, p. xxi; cf. p. 411). As a final word of
caution, Gardner (2011, p. 354) warned: “any application of this framework must
be preliminary and tentative, pending both close observation of the particular society
in question and the development of means for applying the categories in an
unambiguous and reliable manner”.

Cognitive traits of giftedness

Let us, for the moment, accept as our understanding of giftedness the twin premises
of “superior intellect and its correlate, high academic ability” (Braggett, 1985, p. 28).
In this sense, intelligence is taken to mean general cognitive ability, which simply
reflects the well-established fact that most reliable measures of cognitive abilities
 Creativity and cognition 105

intercorrelate at least moderately. As we would expect, complex cognitive processes,

such as those expressed in the abilities of Krutetskii’s model (below), are strong
indices of general cognitive ability (Carroll, 1993; Mackintosh, 1998).
The ability to perceive analogies appears to be pivotal in this respect, for the
essence of intelligent behaviour is seen to be the ability to make and to use fluid
analogies or creative metaphors. Indeed, as Pólya (1945) has noted in the epigraph
to this chapter, analogy pervades all of the ways in which we express intelligence,
and all human reasoning, including logical inference, is essentially analogical.
Furthermore, in his research on the neural correlates of high cognitive ability, Geake
(2008b, 2009b) found a keen facility for fluid analogising to be a cognitive hallmark
of giftedness, in the sense that gifted individuals exploit their cognitive abilities by
fluid analogising.
It is not necessary to read too much into Braggett’s broad conception, or
definition, of giftedness. We know, for example, that some or perhaps many gifted
students (in Gagné’s sense of the term) may not yet have found an appropriate
medium through which they can express their exceptional natural ability. Again,
traditional measures of cognitive ability, such as IQ tests, actually have a use as a
measure of phenotypic intelligence (and perhaps also as a diagnostic tool for some
gifted students with particular learning disabilities). Rather, what should be read
between the lines is that cognitive ability relies on a large number of component
processes, a variety of which may not even be measured by any standard IQ test
(Merrotsy, Cornish, Smith & Smith, 2008).
What would appear to be very important, then, for the expression of exceptional
intelligence is efficient and effective functioning and coordination of this large
number of component processes, of the many brain structures and functions that
contribute to all acts of intelligence. Efficient and effective functioning and
coordination would be reflected, for example, in the ability of a gifted child to
process information more rapidly than typical age peers, and with less attenuation
(Geake, 1997), and to focus attention with efficiency of inhibition (Geake, 2009b):
“such individual differences can be attributed to neurophysiological differences that
affect neuronal efficiency” (Geake, 1997, p. 28). In particular, the “gifted brain”
is characterised by:

high-level prefrontal cortical functioning within a bilateral fronto-parietal

network. The network can be conceptualised as providing a dynamic
workspace in which information is processed; the greater efficiency and extent
of the network in the brains of gifted people support their superior capacity
for information processing. This neural instantiation of giftedness supports a
relatively enhanced executive capability, with a more efficacious working
memory. Specific high-level executive functioning cognitive abilities and
[working memory] attributes of gifted children (and adults) include: focused
attention, evaluative selection, creative analogising, delayed closure, and
comprehensive information processing, with attendant differences in their
neural developmental dynamics. Importantly, these neural differences are
106 Creativity and cognition

structural: talented performance arises from functional plasticity enhanced

through positive feedback.
(Geake, 2009b, p. 271)

That is, the significant neuropsychological characteristics of giftedness are the

complex “neural structure–function relationships” and the many neural attributes
that go towards the manifestation and expression of intelligence (Geake, 2009b,
p. 263). Unfortunately, these neural correlates of giftedness are actually difficult to
find, and mapping them is still very much in its infancy. Nevertheless, the literature
does contain a plethora of traits that are purported to be correlated with giftedness.
Here, I recommend an ethic of caution: the research base supporting the inclusion
of many of the published traits is not strong, at best being theoretical, clinical or
anecdotal; many of the traits are derived from studies of “successful” adults, and,
apart from assumptions about “success” being a worry, it is not at all clear to what
extent these traits can or should then be applied to the developing mind of a child
or adolescent; and many of the traits seem to better describe high achievement or
talent rather than high potential or giftedness, in Gagné’s sense of these terms. Given
these caveats, we can readily list the supposed, expected, desired, hoped for or
valued cognitive characteristics of giftedness, and for my sources for the follow-
ing list I would cite Bailey, Benbow, Borland, Braggett, Clark, Colangelo, Davis,
Feldhusen, Gagné, Gallagher, Gross, Jones, Maker, Passow, Renzulli, Rimm,
Rogers, Southern, Stanley, Tannenbaum, VanTassel-Baska, U. T. Cobley (aka
Uncle Tom Cobleigh), et al.:

enjoyment of learning, intellectual precocity, advanced metacognition, learns

easily, learns fast, superior memory, exceptional reasoning ability, facility for
abstraction, high analytical ability, high divergent thinking ability, high
convergent thinking ability, complex thought processes, advanced language
ability, strong concentration, high intellectual curiosity, keen observation,
high motivation, early moral concern, keen sense of justice, high capacity
for reflection, high ability to solve problems.

It is important to note that not all of these traits will be observed in all gifted
students. In fact, while it may be expected that many gifted students will manifest
a range of behaviours related to these traits, some gifted students may seldom if
ever do so within the school context. Therefore it should be acknowledged that
it is exceedingly difficult to correctly identify the high cognitive ability of a significant
number of students, especially those who come from a background of so-called
disadvantage (Merrotsy, 2013b). And here it should also be stressed that, in response
to identifying a student as gifted, educational action must necessarily follow.
Two lessons should be taken from this discussion of cognitive characteristics of
giftedness. On the one hand, observations and measures of the various traits may
be used to identify high learning potential and high achievement, to identify
giftedness and talent. On the other hand, these traits should inform any educational
 Creativity and cognition 107

talent development programme as they indicate very clearly what needs to be

developed and strengthened in a gifted student if he or she is to become a talented
student. This Janus-like response, appropriate for the god of beginnings, doorways,
transitions, and endings, reflects the twofold implications of the characteristics of
giftedness for identification and for provision (and for identification through
provision, for that matter), a theme that will return in the discussion of models for
assessment and programming below.
In a study of appropriate curriculum for gifted students in a very low socio-
economic community in a relatively isolated community in New South Wales,
Australia, the last trait in the list, a high ability to solve problems, proved to be an
extremely important cognitive characteristic of giftedness, in Gagné’s sense of high
natural ability or high potential (Merrotsy, 2002). For example, one of the
participants in the study, Albert, whose secondary school teachers believed him to
be of average ability, was identified to have high learning potential only through
his response to puzzles and problems in the school newsletter (a chocolate bar was
the prize at stake). For the next six years, he participated in an intensive talent
development programme, and inter alia along the way he topped Australia in a
national Mathematics competition (Merrotsy, 2004). Arising from this study, the
following cognitive conception of giftedness was proposed:

A gifted student:
– learns at a rapid pace, and often with alacrity;
– thinks faster, longer, harder, deeper, higher, more broadly, more generally,
more abstractly, metacognitively;
– solves problems in a dance-like, expressive and saltatorial manner, which
is markedly and qualitatively differentiated from the ability of peers;
– is an exceptional student for whom exceptional educational provision is
required.
(Merrotsy, 2002, p. 13)

Wisdom
One of the roles of intelligence is to support the development of or acquiring of
critical acumen, and both intelligence and critical acumen provide a foundation
for the getting of wisdom (with apologies to the author Ethel “Ettie” Florence
Lindesay Robertson, née Richardson, 1870–1946, who published under the name
Henry Handel Richardson). Of course, as Flynn (2007, p. 172) quite correctly
pointed out, “It is quite possible to have negative critical acumen, witness the rise
of postmodernism.” For those readers who have a (post-) structuralist and post-
modernist bent and who are raising a dissenting voice, I would remind them of
the “black swan of trespass” of the Ern Malley affair (Ern Malley, 1943, Dürer:
Innsbruck, 1495), and of the “transformative hermeneutics” of the Sokal (1996)
affair; I would also suggest a humble reading of Kitching (2008), who highlighted
the baggage of mangled language that so often accompanies postmodern academic
108 Creativity and cognition

discourse, and of Crews (2002, p. xvi), who laughed at its galimatias: “Just as [Winnie
the] Pooh is suffused with humanism, our humanism itself . . . has become full of
Pooh.”
Not just for this reason, but also because positive critical acumen, that is, a high
level of social analysis and moral awareness, is “a good thing” (sensu Socrates), Flynn
(2007) approaches the problem of a theory of wisdom, intelligence and critical
acumen (WICA) and their measures. His first attempt at a formal measure of critical
acumen is a Social Criticism and Analysis Test (SOCRATES). It comprises 14 items
that assess awareness of what Flynn called “shorthand abstractions” (abstractions of
related ideas that have a particular analytical significance and hence tend to demand
a particular method of critical analysis applicable to social and moral issues) without
actually naming the abstractions referred to (Flynn, 2007, pp. 162–163).
Formal measures of wisdom are a tad more elusive. Wisdom is understood by
some authors to be expertise in the conduct and meaning of life, the knowledge
that constitutes a meaningful life and how to plan for and manage such a life (Baltes
& Staudinger, 2000). Others say that wisdom refers to the extent to which intelli-
gence is used to seek a common good, a balancing of personal interests with those
of the family, community and country – see, for example, Sternberg’s (1998)
“balance theory of wisdom”. Actually, to be fair, Sternberg’s conception of wisdom
was more nuanced than this would indicate. His Wisdom, Intelligence, and
Creativity Synthesised (WICS) model of giftedness in leadership (Sternberg, 2005),
or for liberal education (Sternberg, 2009), was set within the framework of his
triarchic model of intelligence and takes into account analytical and quantitative
ability, creative ability, and the ability to weigh options carefully and to act pru-
dently (Sternberg, 2003). Sternberg did not make it clear how the adult leadership
abilities or behaviours in WICS translate into understanding giftedness in childhood;
however, the model, as implemented in the Rainbow Project (Sternberg, 2009),
has shown promise in reducing cultural and social differences in performance
apparent in traditional assessments of intellectual ability.
A third and stronger approach to understanding wisdom is to acknowledge that
it arises from the deliberate coordination of knowledge and experience to improve
well-being: “Wisdom is knowledge of how to live a good life, and . . . it is know-
ledge of how to make a better world” (Flynn, 2007, p. 159). History abounds with
post hoc informal measures or yardsticks of what wisdom is not! Nevo and Flynn
(see Nevo, 2002) proposed a formal measure of practical wisdom in the sense of
commitment to humane and egalitarian ideals, Humane Egalitarian Democratic
Values Questionnaire (HED-VQ). It is a self reporting questionnaire, comprising
46 items addressing lexical definitions of democracy, equality and human rights,
derived from Flynn (2000) and related United Nations documents, and responses
indicate both the strength of agreement with the ideal and the extent to which it
is believed that society fulfils the ideal. Flynn (2007) suggested that a measure of
practical wisdom, such as HED-VQ, combined with measures of character and
empathy, might result in a formal measure of wisdom.
 Creativity and cognition 109

Memory
Memory is basic to any theory of intelligence and of information processing. In
fact, as Weisberg and Reeves (2010) noted, it is a darn good starting point when
considering how cognition is applied to creative thinking. Here I am wanting
to describe the ways in which the various kinds of memory are distinguished, and
I defer to the expertise of Baddeley (2004) for my source of information. Gener-
ally, distinctions can be made between what are known as the sensory buffer, the
short-term memory and the long-term memory, although note that sometimes
these types of memory are referred to as sensory-store, short-term store and long-
term store respectively. There appear to be several, or many, sensory buffers or
sensory memories, although the picture does not appear to be straightforward and
strictly modular. Each of these sensory memories registers and maintains very briefly
(less than about half of a second) sensory input, such as visual information in
the iconic memory, auditory information in the echoic memory, information from
touch and internal muscle tension in the haptic memory, and similar buffers for
the senses of smell, taste and balance. Sensory memories are very handy to have
because they allow us to be aware of and process what is happening around us
while we are attending to what we are doing. This information is then classified
or cognitively processed, and is either ignored or is stored in short-term memory.

Short-term memory
Short-term memory is actually better referred to as working memory: it holds
and processes the information from the sensory memories and it also holds
and processes information retrieved from long-term memory. The information in
working memory is then transferred to long-term memory, intentionally
through such procedures as “rehearsal”, or unintentionally, or it is replaced and
hence “forgotten”, or it is just forgotten. There are two key characteristics to remem-
ber about working memory: it has a very limited capacity; and its contents are
very fragile (Cohen, Kiss & Voi, 1993; Parkin, 1993). In general terms this means
that working memory can hold only a certain amount of information, and only
for a short period of time (up to about a minute). Each of us will know that
information can be remembered for a sufficient length of time to dial a telephone
number (I wonder why we still use the verb “to dial” when we push buttons), to
buy a few goods at the supermarket (I wonder why I keep on forgetting to buy
the carrots), or to remember sufficient information to carry out a normal con-
versation (hmmm . . . the Spring sunshine outside today looks glorious . . .
aposiopesis)!
The amount of information stored in working memory has been famously
modelled as 7 ± 2 items or chunks of information (Miller, 1956 – yes, that is the
correct date of publication, and the term “chunk” does come from Miller). This
figure has been more recently revised downwards to circa four chunks (Cowan,
2001). In any case, the capacity of working memory capacity appears to be limited
110 Creativity and cognition

more by processing constraints (the allocation of attention), rather than by structural

considerations (the amount of space available) (Cohen et al., 1993).
However, it is possible to increase the capacity of working memory by chunking
or mentally recoding groups of information into a smaller number of groups with
a higher level of information. Miller (1956, pp. 94–95) reported on the dramatic
effect of watching a person listen to 40 binary digits in a row and then repeat them
verbatim.
If you think this is merely a mnemonic trick for extending the memory span,
you will miss the more important point that is implicit in nearly all such mnemonic
devices. The point is that recoding is an extremely powerful weapon for increasing
the amount of information that we can deal with.
This has many important implications for practitioners: for example, can the
amount of “irrelevant” material, such as complicated instructions, be reduced so
that information related to the immediate problem can be processed in working
memory? Here, the idea is to distinguish between “controlled” and “automatic”
processing. If a process can become “automatic” then the person’s ability to focus
more directly on the problem at hand is increased. An example of this would be
a person (my young adult daughter admonishes me, saying that this should refer
to an old adult person, such as me) using new computing software to complete a
task: a great deal of attention is initially paid to the way the programme works and
navigating through its features and interfaces, and it is not until these become
“automatised” that the person’s full attention can be paid to the content. Again,
car drivers can attend to road conditions more fully once their basic driving skills
have become largely automatic, and note that even then their attention is impaired
when they are using a mobile phone while driving. Similarly, Martindale (1995)
reports the positive effects of “defocused attention” on creativity.
Baddeley’s (2004) model of the working memory comprised a central execu-
tive, which is a supervisory attentional control system, with three component
processes:

the phonological or articulatory loop stores auditory information, holding the

items in memory by using a rehearsal process of subvocal speech in a con-
tinuous loop; it also converts nameable visual information into a phonological
code;
the visuospatial sketchpad stores and manipulates visual and spatial informa-
tion; there appear to be separate visual and spatial components, and their
functions may be differentially disrupted by concurrent visuospatial activity;
the episodic buffer provides a multimodal temporary store which enables
the chunking of visual, spatial and verbal information and chronological
ordering; it can link and integrate this information with long-term memory,
and plays an important role in immediate memory for prose and semantic
meaning.
(Baddeley, 2004, 2009, 2012)
 Creativity and cognition 111

Long-term memory
Long-term memory, on the other hand, is a repository for a seemingly unlimited
amount of information representing knowledge, skills and habits, and is essentially
permanent, or potentially so, sometimes lasting for a lifetime. Long-term memories
are encoded semantically (that is, stored according to “meaning”), and maintained
by more or less stable changes in neurons and neural connections widely spread
throughout the brain. There is general agreement on the overall structure or model
of long-term memory, although there is debate about the relationships between the
various components, with the understanding that at the least they are interactive:

Explicit or declarative memory: ‘knowing what’; consists of information that

is explicitly stored and requires conscious, intentional retrieval.
Episodic memory: autobiographical memory of past events and experiences;
personal memories of specific sensations and emotions, and personal
associations of a particular place or time; memory of facts.
Semantic memory: represents meaning or facts independent of their context;
includes abstract or generic knowledge about the world and knowledge of
language, rules and concepts.
Implicit, procedural or non-declarative memory: ‘knowing how’; consists of
information that is based on implicit learning and is consciously inaccessible;
its retrieval is unconscious or non-intentional.
Skills and habits: primarily employed in learning motor skills; allows us to walk,
run, swim, ride a bicycle, drive a car, touch type, . . . .
Priming: occurs when exposure to a perceptual, semantic or conceptual
stimulus influences a response to a subsequent similar stimulus.
Simple classical conditioning: think ‘Pavlov’s dog’.
Non-associative learning: refers to a change in behaviour without any apparent
associated stimulus; may be a progressive diminution of behavioural response
(habituation), or a progressive amplification of a behavioural response
(sensitisation), following repeated administrations of a stimulus (teachers take
warning).
(Baddeley, 2004, 2009, 2012)

There appears also to be a range of other specific memories. For example, topo-
graphic memory stores information that supports the ability to orient oneself in
space, to recognise and follow an itinerary, and to recognise familiar places. This
memory in particular fascinates me. I know from experience that I am able to wander
around the Australian bush (tropical savannah woodland in the Top End, dry
sclerophyll forests in the western slopes and plains, subtropical rainforest in the
Border Ranges, and temperate rainforest in Tasmania) for weeks on end without
getting lost, and can relocate small landmarks and places of special interest such as
rock-art sites, even up to 30 years after the previous visit. However, when I am
112 Creativity and cognition

in cities and large towns I invariably and quickly become disoriented and often
geographically embarrassed (an Aussie euphemism for being lost).

Schema, schemata
Long-term memory stores information according to meaning, or semantically. How
this occurs is usually described by the useful hypothetical (i.e. theoretical) construct
(or metaphor) of a “schema” (plural schemata or schemas). The term was derived
by Piaget as early as 1926 but its meaning has developed somewhat since then. A
schema is conceptualised as a group of interrelated concepts arranged in a “network”
or in a “semantic network”. It is a kind of cognitive or mental “structure” that
arranges and organises our experiences, knowledge and assumptions of some aspect
of the world, and represents for us our “view” of that aspect of the world (Cornish
& Garner, 2009). As well as representing physical phenomena, a schema may also
represent a more abstract notion such as self; thoughts; pre-conceived ideas, beliefs
and prejudices; patterns of behaviour; and social information (Jonassen et al., 1993,
p. 7). Schemas are often called “mind maps” (although I for one think that this
analogy is simply not right).
Schemas are seen to be important because, if the construct is a reasonable model
of reality, they would be used as a “frame” for subsequent experiences, as a guide
to processing and interpreting new information, and as a template for our future
thoughts and actions. The idea certainly has very important ramifications for anyone
who is connected with an environment in which there are learners. As a case in
point, consider children’s ideas (concepts): they are often not what we expect, and
they are exceedingly difficult to alter. Taking an example from the natural sciences
(Vosniadou & Brewer, 1992), children tend to have a concept of the earth as one
of a rectangle earth, a disc earth, a dual earth, a hollow sphere, and a flattened sphere
(and sometimes various combinations of these concurrently). For example, a child
may believe that the earth is flat (they stand on it), and it has an end or an edge
(from which you could fall), but yet they may also believe that the earth is “round”
(people sail around it) – something like a pancake-shaped earth surrounded by water.
It seems that a child starts with some initial presupposition or model or schema of
the earth (it is flat and large). In the process of learning, they use new information
to modify their initial model to form a synthetic model as their solution to the
problem that the new information is inconsistent with their initial model. It is only
when the initial presupposition has been reinterpreted (the earth appears to be flat
and large but I am only looking at part of a big ball) that the child will come to
understand that the earth is a sphere, or perhaps even that it approximates an oblate
spheroid! So, in a situation in which children with these unexpected ideas – called
by various names such as “children’s science”, “alternative frameworks”, “miscon-
ceptions”, or “naïve concepts” – are presented with new input, there is the possibility
that existing schemas will be altered (or perhaps not altered) in unpredictable ways.
Note that the encoding process for a schema involves identifying the critical
information in a situation and using it to form an internal representation. Siegler
 Creativity and cognition 113

and Alibali (2004) described situations in which problem solvers, and not just chil-
dren, often fail to identify the key features of a situation because they do not know
what these features are. If particular information is “seen” to be not relevant, there
will be no benefit derived from it. For example, a group of 4 to 11 years old children
and a group of college students watched a toy train carrying a ball on a flatcar. At
a pre-arranged spot the ball fell through a hole in the moving flatcar and fell some
distance to the floor. More than 70 per cent of the group reported that the ball
had fallen straight down. After this was done the train was run again and the parti-
cipants were able to observe more carefully what actually happened (the ball fell
in a parabolic trajectory). The initial explanations showed how mis-encoding, the
term used by Siegler, can influence problem solving and reasoning:

Some said that the ball fell straight down just as they thought it would. Others
said that the train gave the ball a push forward just before it was released.
Interestingly, a number of college students who encoded the ball as having
fallen straight down had previously taken and passed college physics courses.
Apparently this experience was insufficient to change either their expectations
or their encoding of what they saw.
(Siegler & Alibali, 2004, pp. 254–255)

This example is interesting for two reasons. First, it demonstrates some of the
issues about schema theory hinted at above: existing schemas guide the selection of
what aspects of a new input will be stored and may modify the memory represen-
tation of a new experience so as to bring it into line with prior expectations. Second,
it draws attention to an underlying “debate” about the relevance of schema theory:
in none of Siegler’s writings about children’s use of strategies is there any mention
of “schemas”; he is able to “do without” the theory by narrowing the effects seen
to errors in encoding, which is no doubt the cause of the problem anyway.

Knowledge
Without wanting to venture into epistemological debate, here I am taking “know-
ledge” to mean simply what is contained in memory, or at least what is isomorphic
to it (in the mathematical sense of the term as one-to-one correspondence). Know-
ledge is acquired through experience, and also by a special form of experience called
education, that is, directing the mind to conscious, intentional and deliberate learn-
ing and practice. As well as the procedural and declarative knowledge contained in
implicit and explicit long-term memory, Jonassen et al. (1993, p. 4) proposed an inter-
mediate type of knowledge, termed “structural knowledge”, which essentially means
“knowing why” and which “mediates the translation of declarative into procedural
knowledge and facilitates the application of procedural knowledge. Structural
knowledge is the knowledge of how concepts within a domain are interrelated.”
Structure, in this sense, is closely related to the term used by some authors (e.g.
van Hiele, 1986) to describe what is constructed when knowledge is constructed
114 Creativity and cognition

in structuralist and constructivist approaches to learning and teaching. Structural

knowledge allows learners to form the connections they need between the complex
components of their knowledge structures. It allows the learner to attend to mean-
ing (that is, to direct attention to or to focus the mind on meaning) and to make
or construct meaning, and to use and to make analogies. Structural knowledge
is also basic to creativity and to problem solving: for example, it is required to
create and execute plans and strategies, to set parameters and conditions when
undertaking various procedures, and to decide what to do when a piece of infor-
mation is missing or when “failure” occurs.
This idea or construct has been teased out a tad by Farnham-Diggory (1992,
1994), who suggested that there are five types of knowledge that are important
for pedagogy. First, he defines the instructional paradigms of behaviour, develop-
ment and apprenticeship by how novices are distinguished from experts and how
novices are transformed into experts. Within this framework:

The knowledge typology is derived from contemporary cognitive science

[i.e. up to 1993] and from the precognitive experimental paradigms of
learning. The types of knowledge are declarative (verbal learning), procedural
(skill learning), conceptual (concept attainment), analogical (one-trial learn-
ing), and logical (problem solving).
(Farnham-Diggory,1994, p. 463)

For those who use Bloom’s Taxonomy to guide their pedagogy, the excellent
revision by Anderson et al. (2001) defines four dimensions of knowledge:

Factual Knowledge: knowledge that is basic to a specific discipline, and

includes essential facts, terminology, elements and details, which a student must
know or be familiar with in order to understand a discipline and solve
problems within it.
Conceptual Knowledge: knowledge of classifications, principles, generalisa-
tions, theories, models and structures relevant to a specific disciplinary.
Procedural Knowledge: knowledge that helps a student to carry out a particular
task within a discipline, and includes methods of enquiry, algorithms, and
specific techniques, skills and methodologies.
Metacognitive Knowledge: knowledge of one’s own cognition and cognitive
processes.

Metacognition
The man-in-the-street (sic) understanding of the term metacognition is “thinking
about thinking”. However, as Tarricone (2011, p. 35) carefully detailed in her
monumental taxonomy of metacognition, it cannot be assumed that something is
“fundamentally metacognitive, unless it relies upon specific metacognitive processes
 Creativity and cognition 115

that go beyond just thinking about thinking and rely upon self corrective, purposeful
reflection.” Hence, metacognition really refers to explicit cognition about cognitive
phenomena, and in particular to a learner’s explicit awareness of, knowledge about,
control over and conscious manipulation of his or her cognitive processing, includ-
ing his or her thoughts, abilities and learning processes. It also refers to knowledge
of self, and contextual and conditional knowledge, and includes the knowledge of
how to go about solving problems and undertake cognitive tasks, the ability and
skill to think effectively, and evaluative, strategic, reflective and self regulatory
processes based upon specific criteria.
Because of the self oriented nature of metacognition, some (neo-Piagetian)
authors have preferred to refer to a “third-order level” of knowing they call the
“hypercognitive system”, which is responsible for structuring and organising mental
and behavioural goals until they are attained, and some of whose functions appear
to be analogous to and parallel to working memory. For example, Kazi, Makris
and Demetriou (2008) described a self monitoring, self representation and self
regulation process in which the mind “observes” its own cognitive functioning
and experiences, and keeps a memory or “record” or “mental map” of this level
of information, which can be used in the future. In particular, they outlined the
key specific functions of working hypercognition:

a goal setting function;

a planning function setting the steps to made for the sake of the goal;
a monitoring function examining goal attainment;
a control function registering discrepancies between the present state and the
goal;
an evaluation function enabling the system to evaluate each step’s processing
demands.
(Kazi, Makris & Demetriou, 2008, pp. 143–144)

With time and research, the simple concept of metacognition has become quite
complex, and the term comes with a lot of cluttered baggage: in the literature
there is a plethora of associated jargon; it is also often difficult to distinguish between
what is cognitive and what is metacognitive. Metacognitive knowledge may
first be differentiated in a way similar to the differentiation of memory as explicit
or declarative, and implicit, non-declarative or procedural. In particular, metacog-
nitive declarative knowledge refers to the interaction between the characteristics
of the person, the task, and task strategies; and metacognitive procedural knowledge
refers to the regulation of and control over cognitive processes and learning
(Veenman, van Hout-Wolters & Afflerbach, 2006).
Specific components of metacognition may then be identified. Key terms
identified by Schwartz and Perfect (2002) include:

metacognitive awareness: the feelings and experiences you have when you
engage in cognitive processes such as retrieval;
116 Creativity and cognition

metacognitive knowledge: the explicit knowledge you have of your cognitive

strengths and weaknesses; the knowledge you build up of your own perform-
ance, and the performance of other people, in a range of situations;
metacognitive skills: the procedural knowledge you have that is required for
the actual regulation of and control over your learning activities;
metacognitive monitoring: the processes that allow you to observe, reflect or
experience your own cognitive processes;
metacognitive control: the decision making process, either conscious and non-
conscious, based on your monitoring processes;
metamemory: knowledge about memory processes and content, and
knowledge about mnemonic strategies; knowing what you know, knowing
how your memory works, and being able to assess your own memory;
metastrategic knowledge: knowledge about procedural knowledge (“knowing
about knowing how”).

The intricate web of components, subcomponents, categories, supercategories,

subcategories and key elements of metacognition has been neatly disentangled by
Tarricone (2011) in her taxonomy of metacognition. She has bravely found clear
and concise links between the various models from cognitive and developmental
psychology, amalgamated the many concepts and elements proposed by previous
authors, which had previously been seen as independent constructs within the field
of metacognition studies, categorised and classified the concepts, elements and
nomenclature, as well as the perceived relationships between them, and presented
them in a conceptual framework of metacognition. The taxonomy comprises two
core components: knowledge of cognition, or knowing about one’s own cognitive
processes; and regulation of cognition, which involves the use of one’s own cognitive
processes.

Knowledge of Cognition (metacognitive knowledge)

Declarative Knowledge (knowing about knowing)
Person
Task
Strategies
Procedural Knowledge
Person
Task
Strategies
Conditional Knowledge (knowing when, where, why)
Person
Task
Strategies
Regulation of Cognition (metacognitive skills)
Regulation of Cognition and Executive Functioning
 Creativity and cognition 117

Self regulation
Monitoring and Control
Metacognitive Experiences
Metacognitive Judgements

An excellent but complex diagram representing Tarricone’s (2011) taxonomy (which

is what Tarricone terms the “conceptual framework” for the taxonomy) is accessible
at www.psypress.com/common/sample-chapters/9781841698694-figure.pdf, and
for a summary of the taxonomy, see Bannister-Tyrrell, Smith, Merrotsy and
Cornish (2014).

Metacognition and gifted students

Gifted students, or at least talented students (in Gagné’s sense of this term), are
believed to have an enhanced capacity for metacognition and to be highly
competent users of metacognitive skills. Given the cognitive characteristics of
giftedness discussed in Chapter 5, this should come as no surprise. After all, as Carr
and Taasoobshirazi (2008) have noted, metacognition plays a key role in the process
of the successful performance of a difficult task, and metacognitive knowledge and
skills are related to expertise in the sense that they are critical for the conceptual
change needed for the emergence of expert performance.

If gifted children’s performance is more expert performance, then they

should show higher levels of metacognition as it relates to specific domains
of expertise. . . . It is the early emergence of expertise, and the metacognitive
knowledge that supports expertise, that qualitatively discriminates between
gifted and average children.
(Carr & Taasoobshirazi, 2008, p. 119)

The development of expertise or expert performance (i.e. the expression of

giftedness in talent) requires both an advanced repertoire of knowledge (either
explicit or implicit) and the selective use of this knowledge as required. The selective
use of knowledge in turn requires important components of regulation of cognition
and self regulation in Tarricone’s (2011) taxonomy: an awareness and control of
thinking and actions that would lead to an optimisation of strategies that could
approach the desired solution or result (i.e. monitoring, including monitoring for
success); and, in response to monitoring, the correction of errors and a change of
perspective by redefining the task or changing the strategy (i.e. strategy flexibility).
And it is metacognitive knowledge and strategy flexibility that appear to be closely
related to giftedness. In fact, Barfurth, Ritchie, Irving and Shore (2009) concluded
that metacognitive ability is a way in which giftedness is “realised” or expressed.
In a recent study, Bannister-Tyrrell (2012; cf. Bannister-Tyrrell, Smith &
Merrotsy, 2011) explored the relationship between critical literacy and meta-
cognition in high ability or talented young readers, using Tarricone’s (2011)
118 Creativity and cognition

taxonomy of metacognition as a conceptual framework for her study. Critical literacy

incorporates several metacognitive processes, including: knowledge of cognition
and reflection; the ability and skill to think effectively; and evaluative and reflective
processes incorporating self regulatory processes. Bannister-Tyrrell (2012) reported
four important findings arising from her research:

young talented readers (as young as seven years old) do initiate and employ
metacognitive behaviours to problem solve in their reading (contra the long
standing belief that metacognition is a late developing skill);
there is a clear relationship between employment of metacognition and
response behaviour, regardless of whether critical literacy awareness was
demonstrated or not;
there is a clear relationship between response verbosity and metacognitive
skillfulness scores, and between students who chose to contemplate their answers
at length and the use of higher order thinking skills;
observational tools are more successful in identifying metacognitive behavi-
ours in young children, when compared with pre-existing methods such
as self reporting surveys, which appear to be inadequate because of the level
of language used and the self-efficacy beliefs of the students (teachers take
warning).

The study also revealed that “when students are given the space, time and
opportunity to discuss and think through their thoughts about specific texts, young
readers can be observed modifying, integrating and questioning textual
representations within their personal schema and funds of knowledge,” all of which
are elements of higher order thinking (Bannister-Tyrrell et al., 2011, p. 9).
In a now historical account, Wittrock (1986) outlined many research studies
that had been carried out up until then, in which the teaching of learning strategies
and metacognitive strategies had been found to be effective in educational settings
to facilitate attention, motivation, learning, memory and comprehension, as well
as to remediate some learning disabilities. Wittrock (1986, p. 310) summarised his
review in the following way:

[E]nhancing school achievement by use of ‘learning how to learn’ techniques

looks promising. Students can be taught learning strategies, in some instances
at least, that sizably enhance their learning. When students become aware
of the processes they are using, and when they learn to control these
cognitive processes, their transfer of them often increases.

The good news is that since then there have been plenty of studies conducted,
many of which have demonstrated that all students can improve their metacognitive
skills with training and practice, and that gifted students in particular “greatly benefit
from instruction specifically aimed at imparting metacognitive awareness and skills”
(Barfurth et al., 2009, p. 401).
 Creativity and cognition 119

Cognitive load theory

From our discussion above, we know that, even though individuals may differ in
their processing ability, working memory has a more-or-less fixed capacity for pro-
cessing information, irrespective of the processes involved in addressing the task at
hand. Sweller’s (1988) term “cognitive load” is used to describe the load related to
the executive control of working memory. The idea is simply that when an indivi-
dual is involved in a task, working memory can simultaneously process only a certain
amount of information and interactions; when the task is complex, it is very easy
to overload the limited amount of working memory the individual has, and hence
progress with the task is hindered or is not possible. For example, the more (in
quantity and complexity) content and skills a person has to learn in a shorter amount
of time, the more difficult it is to process that information in working memory;
all related elements must be processed before meaningful learning may occur.
In response to this observation, Sweller and colleagues (e.g. Sweller, van
Merriënboer & Paas, 1998, p. 251; cf. Paas, Renkel & Sweller, 2004) introduced
“cognitive load theory”, which was designed “to provide guidelines intended to
assist in the presentation of information in a manner that encourages learner activities
that optimise intellectual performance.” That is, cognitive load theory provides a
conceptual framework for teachers that guides the creation of suitable environ-
mental conditions and the development of suitable instructional materials for
teaching and learning. Instructional design then involves planning to decrease
working memory resources that are directed to information and tasks extraneous
to learning, resulting in greater attention focusing on what is most important for
learning. Here, three terms are important.

Intrinsic cognitive load: refers to the inherent level of difficulty associated with
instructional materials, in terms of both the amount and complexity of the
content and skills to be learned, and including the time required to complete
the task;
Extraneous cognitive load: refers to cognitive load that is generated by the
way in which information is presented to learners. It can be directly attributed
to the design of the instructional materials, and hence it can be controlled and
mitigated by the instructional designer. If extraneous load has to be processed,
then there are fewer resources for working memory to process the intrinsic
load and the germane load; that is, there is a reduced capacity for learning to
take place;
Germane cognitive load: refers to the cognitive load that is devoted to the
processing, construction and automation of knowledge (or schemas, if you
prefer).
(Sweller, Ayres & Kalyuga, 2011)

Cognitive load theory suggests that cognitive load imposed directly by instructional
material may be separated into intrinsic and extraneous cognitive load; similarly,
120 Creativity and cognition

working memory resources may be separated into germane resources directed at

intrinsic cognitive load, and extraneous resources directed at extraneous cognitive
load (Sweller et al., 2011). Any complexity in intrinsic cognitive load can generally
be managed by segmenting and sequencing complex material. Then, for difficult
or complex tasks, extraneous load should be limited, and germane load should be
promoted. However, it is not simply a matter of reducing extraneous cognitive
load, but rather that the instruction that might be considered to be extraneous load
should be redesigned so that attention may be better directed to cognitive processes
specifically related to germane load. To do this, it is necessary to identify the
processing capacity of individual students; to determine the cognitive load required
by the processes to be used in addressing the task; and to ensure that individual
learners are actually using those processes. In fact, the latter requires intensive
professional learning on behalf of the teacher.

Transfer
A key issue in creativity and problem solving research relates to the notion of transfer.
In the broad sense of the term, “transfer” refers to “learning something in one
context and applying it in another” (Fogarty, Perkins & Barell, 1992, p. ix), or to
how the development of one cognitive ability can influence the development of
another cognitive ability. Fogarty et al. (1992, p. xiv) elaborated on this a wee bit:

Transfer of learning simply means the use in a new context of knowledge

and skills acquired in an earlier context. The knowledge or skill transferred
can be very specific – a fact about history or grammar. Or it can be very
general – a theory, a principle, a thinking skill.

The two contexts tend to be described as similar; however, similarity implies that
there is at least some difference, and so to me the interesting question about transfer
becomes one about the meaning of similarity in the context of difference.
Two broad “categories” of transfer are recognised: simple transfer, and complex
transfer. These two types of transfer are really the two ends of a transfer continuum,
in which may be found multiple shades of simplicity and complexity, witnessed
by the numerous terms that have been used by the various authors to describe
them (Fogarty et al., 1992; Ormrod, 2004; Salomon & Perkins, 1989; Schunk,
2004).
First, simple transfer refers to transfer between two contexts that are similar.
Examples of simple transfer include: a student learns basic arithmetic skills in
arithmetic, which are applied to solve an arithmetic problem in science; students
learn a problem solving strategy for one kind of Mathematics problem, which is
then applied to a different problem in Mathematics, but with some similarity; some
basic critical literacy skills are taught, which students apply to several similar genres
and text types. Simple transfer is also described as literal, near, similar, practised,
horizontal, automatic, spontaneous, and low road transfer. More specifically:
 Creativity and cognition 121

literal transfer: refers to applying knowledge without any change to complete

a new task;
near transfer: refers to an overlap between situations, so that the original and
transfer contexts are similar;
horizontal transfer: refers to knowledge that is helpful but not essential to acquire
new knowledge or complete a task;
low road transfer: refers to the use of well-established or automatised know-
ledge or skills to acquire new knowledge or complete a task. “Low-road transfer
depends on extensive, varied practice and occurs by the automatic triggering
of well-learned behaviour in a new context” (Salomon & Perkins, 1989,
p. 113).

Second, complex transfer refers to transfer between contexts that are very different.
Examples of complex transfer include: applying problem solving skills acquired in
Mathematics to a problem in the social sciences or humanities; using knowledge
of history to interpret current political events; using knowledge from literature to
think through problems in your personal life. Complex transfer is also described
as far, vertical, cued, mediated, guided and scaffolded, mindful, and high road
transfer. More specifically:

figural transfer – refers to use of some aspect of general knowledge to acquire

new knowledge or complete a task;
far transfer – refers to little overlap between situations, so that original and
transfer contexts are dissimilar;
vertical transfer – refers to knowledge that is essential in order to acquire new
knowledge or complete a task;
positive transfer – knowledge from one context supports and enhances the
acquisition of knowledge in a different setting;
negative transfer – knowledge from one context hinders or makes it more
difficult to acquire new knowledge in a different setting;
high road transfer – involves the deliberate, mindful abstraction or decon-
textualisation of knowledge or skills, and consciously applying it in a new
context. It is “a thoughtful, effort-demanding process, intellectual in charac-
ter. . . . Such transfer can either be of the forward-reaching kind, whereby
one mindfully abstracts basic elements in anticipation for later application, or
of the backward-reaching kind, where one faces a new situation and
deliberately searches for relevant knowledge already acquired” (Salomon &
Perkins, 1989, p. 113).

If general transfer exists, an example might be the commonly held belief that the
study of Latin or geometry is “good for the mind” and makes the mind sharper
in other academic subjects, and perhaps even fit for a life of public service. The
122 Creativity and cognition

concept of general transfer, in the sense of being broad and ranging across several
disciplines, was discredited through experiments made early last century, but
revived towards the end of it (Singley & Anderson, 1989). Fogarty et al. (1992, p.
xvi) concluded:

And so the tale of transfer begins, the arguments for transfer from specific,
similar contexts versus a transfer from generalisable heuristics are cast and
the curricular war is waged. Unfortunately, buried within the embers of the
fading controversy is one illuminating fact. Neither side – context-bound,
specific training nor generalisable principles and rules – shows overwhelming
and convincing evidence of [general] transfer.

Many teachers will attest to the fact that most students will often fail to transfer
knowledge and skills from one context to another. Nevertheless, there does seem
to be a reasonable body of research (see, for example, the review by Helfenstein,
2005) that suggests that, given the right context and well-designed instruction,
teachers can increase the likelihood that transfer will occur. Having said that, it
must be acknowledged that deliberate abstraction and connection making takes
effort and ingenuity. On this point Perkins and Salomon (1988) make a light-hearted
but important observation. Transfer will seldom occur automatically: the “Bo Peep
Theory of Transfer” (transfer takes care of itself, as in, “Let them alone and they
will come home, wagging their tails behind them”) is exceedingly optimistic. Fogarty
et al. (1992) continue the joke, asserting that the “Black Sheep Theory of Transfer”,
that transfer is an unlikely outcome of learning, is mistaken; rather, they claim,
evidence supports the “Good Shepherd Theory of Transfer”, that transfer can occur
with mediation. Overall Fogarty et al. (1992, p. xvii) suggest that:

When teachers pay attention to transfer in contextual learning situations,

transfer does occur. And when general, bare strategies are accompanied with
self-monitoring techniques, transfer does in fact occur. In both context-bound
teaching and a general heuristics approach, transfer must be shepherded. When
shepherding occurs, both research and classroom experience argue that we
can obtain considerable near and far transfer if we teach in ways that foster
transfer. Teaching in such ways might be called ‘shepherding transfer’,
because teachers act as guides and prompters to ‘shepherd’ knowledge and
skills from one context to another. . . . Thus, there is Perkins’ good shepherd
theory: When transfer is provoked, practised, and reflected on, transfer is
fairly easy to achieve.

Another approach to the issue of transfer is to consider the essential mechanisms

that would be involved: the recruiting of past experiences necessary for transfer
would require retrieval and mapping, and then their application to understanding
and dealing with the current situation, and reconceptualising it by means of
inference and conceptual combination. In this light, several cognitive abilities would
 Creativity and cognition 123

appear to be important for transfer: analogical reasoning, the construction of

mental models, heuristics and metacognition. Because of their very nature, because
of their deliberate and mindful reflections on learning, on the development of
knowledge, and on “seeing” or forming relationships between situations, meta-
cognitive abilities must have quite a prominent role in transfer. In Chapter 7 we
will explore the similar or equivalent role that self regulation plays in transfer. In
the meantime, the story appears to be that:

Transfer is dependent on knowledge and skills, the way in which the mental
representations of these are constructed, and the cognitive processes
responsible for the selection of long-term memory content (i.e. apperception),
and the integration of each of these into a logical and holistic experience.
Four interplaying functions appear to be at work: a search for or
determination of intended or possible meaning; retrieval of knowledge and
skills from long-term memory, biased by personality and experience; the
construction of mental representations appropriate to the goal or situation;
and the impairment of this construction of mental representations. The
construct of schema appears to fit well with these processes, especially in the
way in which it can account for analogical and deontological (rule-based)
transfer comprising retrieval, constructing mental ‘maps’ and making
inferences. Such models are not yet able to tell the whole story (for example,
with respect to ‘thought models’ and reason-based explanations), but they
are able to explain the relationship between transfer and mental ability,
especially when it comes to complex analogical reasoning.
(Helfenstein, 2005, pp. 50–51)

Concluding remarks
McKeachie (1994), in fact, claims that all learning and memory involves transfer,
and if he is correct then transfer is one of the most important goals of educa-
tion, if not the most important. If students learn to speak, write, read, calculate,
think, deduce, hypothesise, critically appraise and so on in specific school lessons,
then they should be able to apply such skills in different lessons or contexts. For
example, a problem solving strategy learned at school might be used to solve social
or other problems at home or in the wider community. McKeachie (1994, pp.
343–344) further argues:

We never use learning in exactly the same situation in which it was learned.
At any later period in time, we have changed, and the situation is no longer
the same. We simply label the transfer as memory if the situation provides
ample cues to the situations in which learning occurred. If the new situation
is a little different from the original ones we describe the outcome as near
transfer; if it is more different, we call it far transfer (or in [the] neat
metaphor, ‘high road transfer’ involving decontextualization of a principle);
124 Creativity and cognition

if the situation is still more different we speak of problem solving; and if the
new situation bears little resemblance to the situations in which relevant
previous learning occurred, we talk about creativity.

This, to me, makes the differences and the similarities between the two terms
creativity and problem solving very clear. The major difference is to do with the
size of the “gap” involved in the learning process, that is, the amount of transfer
involved. If this definition holds, then there could well be further similarities between
the two terms.
Out of necessity, in dealing with such a complex topic as creativity and
cognition many concepts have not been included in our discussion, and many
questions will remain, or they have not been asked let alone answered. First, by
way of example of possible further points for discussion, it would have been fun
to pay more attention to Dawkins’ (1976) unit of cultural transmission of concepts,
ideas and behaviours, the “meme” (mentioned in Chapter 2), including one of its
current evolved manifestations called the “social networking meme”. If this is a
new concept for you, then do please look for examples, many quite funny, by
conducting a Google search using the term “social networking meme” – my
favourite is, “If you swim in the sea and a fish bites your knee, it’s a moray.”
Second, while some doubts may have been raised about the efficacy of the
construct of “schema”, it would still be interesting to ponder what happens when
two of one’s schemata are contradictory, or when a schema is inconsistent with
one’s beliefs. Both Frenkel-Brunswik (1949) and Stein (1987), for example,
certainly raised these issues, albeit using different language.
Third, just as it takes a metanoia, an effort involving time and energy, to get
information memorised, that is, into long-term memory or even permanently stored
in long-term memory, so too does it take a metanoia, with perhaps far more time
and effort required, to forget things that have been “incorrectly” learned.
Fourth, if erasing or “correcting” knowledge or a memory that is “not correct”
takes so much effort, why is forgetting so easy? History may well be “what you
can remember” (Sellar & Yeatman, 1993, “Compulsory Preface”); however, it is
also undoubtedly “not what you thought” (Templeton, 2002, p. 19, footnote).
What we forget, as individuals, as a society, and as a culture, is just as important
as what we remember (Ricoeur, 2004).
Fifth, while some researchers (e.g. Sims, Guilfoyle & Parry, 2006) have suggested
that stress affects the ability to encode and retrieve memories, some other theorists
argue that stressful life experiences may in fact be used to facilitate personal and
moral development, and wisdom, perhaps (for the most recent expositions of
Da˛browski’s Theory of Positive Disintegration, see Mendaglio, 2008, and Harper,
2013).
Sixth, the difference between self assessment of cognitive ability and the reality
has important ramifications for education. An interesting case of what is meant
here arises in the Kruger and Dunning (1999) effect, a cognitive bias in which
lower ability individuals suffer from illusory superiority. Such individuals tend to
 Creativity and cognition 125

rate their ability much higher than average, which is attributed to their meta-
cognitive inability to recognise and to appreciate their mistakes. On the other hand,
actual competence may weaken self confidence, resulting in competent individuals
falsely assuming that others are equal in ability and understanding. A possible
explanation of this is that the miscalibration by an incompetent person arises from
an error about one’s self, and that the miscalibration of the highly competent arises
from an error about other people.
Of the kinds of questions that certainly remain, I would like to ask the following:
if problem solving is “domain specific” then what about “creativity”? If some of
the processes involved in “problem solving” become automatic (i.e. they are
processed without any cognitive load being placed on short-term memory), then
can some of the processes involved in bridging the “big gaps” become automatic?
In other words, if there are domain specific problem solvers who can be classified
as “experts”, are there domain specific “expert creatives” as well?
Teachers should also be asking questions about the implications of what I have
said for their pedagogy. For example, when wondering about what is really
constructed when constructivist learning and teaching take place, what makes sense
to me is not simply that knowledge is constructed by making connections between
what was already known and what is now to be learned, but rather that real neuronal
connections are made, and connections are made between ideas in the sense of
transfer across domains. If this is correct, then it says a lot about the imperative for
active learning and teaching. Similarly, knowing how information is processed and
encoded in memory should be understood along with messages about cognitive
load, with further implications for active learning and teaching, including how
teachers might plan and programme learning activities that reduce cognitive load
and facilitate information retrieval and navigation through complex learning
environments (Smith, 2004).
For those interested in learning about the implications of recent findings from
cognitive neuroscience, I recommend reading Geake (2009a, 2009b). If you would
like to read more about the Flynn effect, even though his exposition of his model
of intelligence is not as well presented as it is in Flynn (2007), I do recommend
Flynn (2012) for its clear and detailed discussion of changing measures of IQ and
developing nations, youth and age, race, gender, and various sociological issues.
In the next chapter we will respond to the question of how students learn by
exploring the kinds of learning environments that might support the development
and expression of creative problem solving abilities.

∞
6
CREATIVE PROBLEM SOLVING
ENVIRONMENTS

There should be a place for guessing. Instruction should prepare for, or at least give a little
taste of, invention. At all events, the instruction should not suppress the germs of invention
in the student. I did not say that we should neglect proving. On the contrary, we should
teach both proving and guessing, both kinds of reasoning, demonstrative and plausible.
...
I said that it is desirable to teach guessing, but not that it is easy to teach it. There is
no foolproof method for guessing, and therefore there cannot be any foolproof method
to teach guessing. Still, it is not impossible to teach guessing. . . .
Let us teach guessing!
(From Pólya, 1954, Vol. 2, pp. 158f.)

In this chapter we will discuss:

• systems approaches to creative problem solving;

• a framework for creative knowledge environments;
• obstacles to creative problem solving;
• ideas for creating or establishing a creative problem solving environment.

Introductory remarks
In previous chapters, you may have noticed that I shy away from understanding
creativity in terms of Product, with a leaning towards conceiving of it in terms of
Process (though, of course, that is not all of the story). You may also have noted
my worries about the extent to which creative problem solving can be taught,
enhanced, fostered or facilitated, if indeed any of these is possible per se. Now,
the effect of creativity programmes on educational outcomes does appear to be
positive and large, especially, it seems, if they include direct instruction, are based
 Creative problem solving environments 127

on developing thinking strategies, and are aimed at working towards and attain-
ing high expectations (Hattie, 2009). However, two things are not so clear: why
the creativity programmes are successful; and what is actually learned by engage-
ment in the creativity programmes. After all, as Hattie (2009) pointed out, the
effect size for affective outcomes is humungous, the effects in Mathematics are huge,
and the greatest effects come from metacognitive strategies. So, depending on
your response to the question about the extent to which creative problem solving
can be taught, a teacher’s role will range from providing an environment that
is conducive to the expression of creativity or encouraging creativity if it is a
trait, inbuilt, as it were, or natural, to providing an environment in which creative
processes are actively taught if viewed as an ability, natural or otherwise (Runco,
2007).
In either case, on this point I would argue, along with Csikszentmihalyi (1996,
p. 1), that:

It is easier to enhance creativity by changing conditions in the environment

than by trying to make people think more creatively.

Again like Csikszentmihalyi (1996), I do see one important aspect of creativity and
creative problem solving to be a process that unfolds over a lifetime. What inter-
ests me is how this process is expressed. At the least we can say two things. First,
creative problem solving is to a great extent influenced by the environment in
which people work to produce creative solutions to problems (Products). Second,
the medium through which creative problem solving (the creative Process) is
expressed is very much influenced by the cultural context and the social milieu
of the person.
Hence, in this chapter we will consider characteristics of environments – the
contexts and the milieux – that are purported to positively influence creative
problem solving. Even though I am critical of systems approaches because they
tend to conflate creativity and “Big C creativity” (Merrotsy, 2013c), they do draw
attention to the role or place of the environment in the expression of creativity.
So let us begin our discussion of creative problem solving environments by re-
visiting the notion of systems models of creativity.

Systems approaches to creative problem solving

According to Sternberg’s (1985) triarchic theory of intelligence, human intellectual
ability has three components, which are analytic, synthetic and practical in nature.
First, for Sternberg (1985, 1994) intelligence is contextual, or, how intelligence
relates to the external world. Second, for Sternberg there are three types of
information processing components that can be distinguished: metacomponents
(used to decide what to do); performance components (used in the actual execution
of a task); knowledge acquisition components (used to learn how to perform a task
in the first place). The idea here is that metacomponents activate performance and
128 Creative problem solving environments

knowledge acquisition components, which in turn provide feedback to the

metacomponents. And third, for Sternberg intelligence is two-faceted, or, how
experience is related to the way in which the mind deals with novelty and the
extent to which the mind is able to automatise information processing. And intelli-
gence is componential, or, the mental process by which intelligent performance is
effected, and which in itself concerns: knowledge acquisition through selective
encoding, selective combination, and selective comparison; performance through
encoding of stimuli, combination or comparison of stimuli, and response; and the
metacomponents of planning, directing, and monitoring problem solving. That is,
intelligence is a threefold construct, which relates to one’s environment, experience,
and information processing capabilities.
It would, of course, be possible to criticise Sternberg’s triarchic theory because
of its lack of empirical support (and we should), and to argue (as did Gottfredson,
2003) that practical intelligence is in fact measured by traditional so-called tests of
intelligence, at least in some ways, because on the one hand they correlate
moderately with income and highly with occupational prestige (post mid-life crisis!),
and because on the other hand they predict the ability (post adolescence) simply
to stay out of jail and to stay alive! What Gottfredson pointed out, really, is that
what Sternberg called practical intelligence is just a specific set of skills people learn
and develop in order to cope with a specific environment. Environments and the
tasks we confront (or are confronted by) within them will vary in terms of their
familiarity: novel, or never before encountered; relative novelty; familiar; auto-
matisation, or accomplished without thinking. However, and here we may agree
with Sternberg (1985, p. 45), human intelligence is in particular a “mental activity
directed toward purposive adaptation to, selection [of] and shaping of real-world
environments relevant to one’s life”.
One of the ways in which Sternberg applied his construct of intelligence has
been in his systems approaches to creativity. Systems approaches attempt to
understand creativity, an expression of intelligence, through the interaction of cog-
nition and context or environment. That is, starting with the premise that creativity
is not only the ability to produce work that is novel, high in quality and appropriate,
but that it also takes place in the interaction between persons and their environ-
ments, systems approaches attempt to establish links between the two systems or
levels of analysis, and to analyse what forms these links take. One example of this
approach is the Propulsion Model of Creative Contributions (Sternberg et al., 2002),
which arose from the notion that creative contributions “propel” a field forward
in some way.
The propulsion model is a descriptive taxonomy of eight kinds of creative
contributions, which are claimed to be, in the most part, qualitatively distinct. Note
that there is no claim that one can evaluate the “amount” of creativity on the basis
of the kind of creativity. The creative contributions comprise:

kinds of creativity that accept current paradigms and attempt to extend them
– replication, redefinition, forward incrementation;
 Creative problem solving environments 129

kinds of creativity that reject current paradigms and attempts to replace

them – redirection, reconstruction, re-initiation;
kind of creativity that synthesises paradigms – integration.
(Sternberg et al., 2002)

The key strength of the propulsion model, if only in terms of Big C creativity, is
found in its applicability. At the least, it may be applied as a heuristic tool. It can
help to gain recognition for some creative contributions, and to categorise and
chart progress within a particular field. It reflects the notion that creativity may
differ in degree and in kind. By way of a characterisation, it also gives an indication
of how the kinds or levels of creativity of an individual within a field may be judged,
albeit subjectively.
The propulsion model also has something to say about various phenomena related
to creativity. It goes some way towards explaining the relationship between
creativity and leadership. It addresses the question of whether programmes based
on artificial intelligence are creative (cf. replication, and cf. forward incrementation).
It enters into the debate concerning the extent to which creativity is domain specific
or domain general. And it may explain why creativity tends to generate negative
reactions even when most people claim to support it.
At the same time, the propulsion model does have its weaknesses. Echoing the
lament of our on-going refrain, the model is not (yet) quantitatively or empirically
tested. Perhaps it is petty to point out that it is probably not exhaustive, but then
the classification of a contribution is not necessarily unequivocal, and contributions
may certainly be far more complex. Finally, the spatial metaphor used is an over-
simplification (but then, it is only a model).
Other systems models attempt to get around such problems in various ways. As
we have seen in Chapter 2, Csikszentmihalyi (1999), for example, generalised by
locating creativity in a virtual space, or system, where an individual interacts with
a cultural domain and with a social field. Creativity is a historical process, analogous
to the theory of evolution, and it manifests itself only in the relation of these three
separate entities. The domain is a necessary component because creativity is not
possible in the absence of a symbolic system. Creativity occurs when a person makes
a change to a domain that will be transmitted through time. Changes are not adopted
unless they are sanctioned by some group of gatekeepers, or the field, entitled to
make decisions as to what should or should not be included in the domain.
Simonton (1999, pp. 309, 322), again for example, offered experimental, psy-
chometric and historiometric evidence in support of a Darwinian “blind-variation
and selective-retention” model of creativity, and speculated that such a model could
“subsume all the alternative accounts” of creativity. His argument was apparently
not well received, being immediately rounded on by the baying wolves (see
Psychological Inquiry, 1999, volume 10), with the main issue being the purposiveness
of creativity.
More recently, Ghassib (2010a) claimed to construct a new model of crea-
tivity, at least with respect to scientific method and scientific practice, although
130 Creative problem solving environments

clearly it will not sit comfortably with everyone, especially those for whom the
Hegelian dialectic or a Marxist interpretation of history is not their cup of tea.
Ghassib explored the epistemological ramifications of science becoming a major
industry, which is generally called the knowledge industry. In particular, he pro-
posed a “productivist industrial model” of scientific practice and knowledge
production, at the heart of which are placed the related processes of creativity
and innovation. The model is “productivist industrial” in the sense that the pro-
ductive sites, the producers, the raw material, the means of knowledge, the
methods of production and the uniqueness of the product can all be defined, detailed
and located. However, it does differ from typical industrial processes in so far as
the product is not predetermined, for such is the nature of creativity and inno-
vation.
In my “skeptical remarks” – which apparently “smacked of pragmatism [!]”
(Ghassib, 2010b, p. 120) – in response to Ghassib’s thesis, I drew attention to the
human face of science, which raises questions about the purpose and meaning of
science, and whether the “productivist industrial model” is a necessary or desirable
model for scientific practice (Merrotsy, 2010). On the other hand, Ghassib’s model
does fit very well within the conceptual framework of a creative knowledge
environment.

Creative knowledge environments

The conceptual framework for a Creative Knowledge Environment (CKE)
(Hemlin, Allwood & Martin, 2004) begins with the premise that creativity is to a
great extent influenced by the environment in which people work to produce
creative products. CKEs are then defined to be those environments, contexts and
surroundings that have characteristics that exert a positive influence on human beings
engaged in creative work aiming to produce new knowledge or innovations. The
people may work individually or in teams, within a single organisation or in colla-
boration with others. CKEs represent an obvious focus to aid in understanding the
process of knowledge generation: economies have certainly become more
knowledge intensive; and we do talk about the “knowledge society”. First, some
definitions set within the framework of a CKE:

Creativity is the process of generating a product that is novel and imaginative

and useful and of good quality. There is a distinction between process and
product, and there may be no connection between a creative production process
and a creative product. The evaluation of a product as creative is usually a
matter of social negotiation and thus at least partly influenced by rhetorical
and other communication skills.
Knowledge is socially negotiated or constructed and is established in a process
involving communication. So we need to examine different aspects of such
communication processes in order to better understand how a knowledge
product comes to be evaluated as creative.
 Creative problem solving environments 131

Environment CKEs are dependent on a wide range of different conditions

and circumstances (and perceptions of them) that overlap and interact. Perhaps
here it goes without saying that three types of CKEs are acknowledged:
academia, industry and government. Two other aspects are important: the scale
level, and the stage in the task or problem process (making, with the type of
CKE, the three dimensions of CKEs).

Hence, CKEs may be considered on several different scales (micro, meso and macro),
or they could be described as a number of nested layers of environmental factors
surrounding the unit in which creative activities are undertaken. The creative unit
may be as small as one person or a classroom, or as large as a multinational company
or a country. There are also three basic aspects of CKEs: the physical environment;
the social environment; the cognitive environment (for example, drawing on various
bodies of knowledge and skills, or adopting a particular cognitive work style such
as the scientific method).
These two points highlight the need to identify, classify and gain a better
understanding of the causal and other relationships that link the factors that exert
a positive or negative influence on those engaged in creative work. According to
Hemlin et al., (2004, p. 11), a successful creative research environment should have:

clear objectives functioning in a coordinated way . . .;

a primary focus on research;
a genuine research culture built up over a long period of time;
a positive group climate;
group members who participate actively in leadership . . .;
a flat and decentralised organisational structure;
internal and external communications that are lively and supportive;
basic resources . . . [time, space, facilities, materials, equipment, library];
diversity in size, age [and experience] . . .;
a high level of motivation [and enjoyment] . . .;
quality control (but not too excessive or intrusive).

Thus a CKE has specific psychological and organisational characteristics. However,

there are no clear or simple recipes for promoting creativity by suitably engineering
the environment. Some things are clear:

individuals are important;

a successful CKE embraces a management and working style where the role
of managers is de-emphasised, teams or groups are essentially autonomous,
and self leadership and social interaction are prominent;
teams or groups emphasise and tolerate diversity among members, so that an
element of creative tension exists and conformity is not over-emphasised;
distinguishing between the different phases of creative work processes and
innovation is crucial for understanding CKEs.
132 Creative problem solving environments

Finally, with the above two lists of points in mind, it is now possible to explore
how a CKE may be stimulated, at the micro, meso and macro levels, to be more
creative. In your teaching practice, these levels will usually (but, depending on
your context, not always) refer to your classroom, your school, and the educational
system within which you work. From Hemlin et al.’s (2004) conceptual framework
of creative knowledge environments, a CKE will likely or best be engineered or
stimulated by focusing on all the following factors:

task characteristics
discipline or field
individuals
group characteristics
general work situation for individuals
physical environment
organisation
extraorganisational environments.

Obstacles to creative problem solving

The debate about “problem solving” in the form of “puzzles”, with their
(apparently) clear-cut boundaries and their (apparently) one right answer, and which
may or may not require creativity to solve, has been broached in Chapter 1. Here,
however, the need for creative thinking when addressing the open ended, often
ill-defined, intractable nature of the “real world” problem seems obvious. Schooling
can be guilty of ignoring the rich potential for creative problem solving presented
by the rest of the real world, preferring at times the contrived “problem” or set-
piece situation over a “real problem”. Such an approach to creative problem solving
can very well turn students off so that they do not engage in the learning activities.
The research literature on creativity points to a broad range of other factors that
act to inhibit the growth and expression of creativity.
Parnes (1970) provided a succinct summary of these factors that provide obstacles
to the development and expression of creativity, which he termed perceptual,
emotional and cultural blocks to creative thinking (and it is worth noting that many
later authors either have lacked the comprehensiveness of his list or have lacked
the academic integrity to acknowledge Parnes’ contribution):

Under perceptual blocks are covered such matters as the difficulty in isolating
problems, difficulty from narrowing the problem too much, inability to define
or isolate attributes, failure to use all the senses in observing. Under cultural
and emotional blocks are emphasised the effects of conformity, overemphasis
on competition or cooperation, excessive faith in reason or logic, self
satisfaction, perfectionism, negative outlooks, reliance on authority and fear
of mistakes, failure, or looking foolish.
(Parnes, 1970, p. 342)
 Creative problem solving environments 133

The inclusion of fear of failure has been reinforced by von Oech (1990, p. 160):

Fear of failure is one of the greatest inhibitors of natural creativity, and yet,
every successful innovator has failed often. . . . Those who embrace failure
as a by-product of creativity, definitely have the advantage! Errors are a sign
that you are diverging from the well-travelled path. A large part of creative
thinking is not being afraid to fail.

For an intellectually entertaining example of the importance of failure, see the

curmudgeonly retelling of Einstein’s story by Ohanian (2008). In his quixotic way,
Ohanian homed in on Einstein’s serious misconceptions in physics and blatant errors
in Mathematics, pointing out (perhaps with Schadenfreude, contra p. xi) that, of the
180-odd original scientific papers Einstein published, about 40 are “infested” with
mistakes. This failure rate can of course be reinterpreted as 140 highly original and
creative publications not blighted by mistakes, but in all fairness it must be added
that even many of the offending papers contained ground-breaking discoveries.
Fear of failure, or of making errors, and the related problem of perfectionism
(in its negative forms) can be causes of underachievement, in school and in life.
Adams (1986, p. 87) counselled that in the teaching of problem solving:

errors are as important to the learner as ‘successful’ actions, providing the

learner is taught to anticipate error, to examine why the ideas or the strategies
are unsuccessful and to appreciate the value of errors in the development of
their own skills.

In an oft-cited article, describing the child who “marches to the beat of a different
drummer,” Rimm (1987) identified four common characteristics of creative
students (in her sense of the term “creative”) who are perceived to be significantly
underachieving at school:
First, they are dominant rather than dependent. That is, they insist on being in
control of home, school, and peer activities. If things are not done their way, they
are likely to withdraw completely from participation.
Second, they will typically deny that their unusual style is intended for an
audience, but are likely to admit that they enjoy being different.
Third, an early indicator of a potential problem will be in the differential valuing
of that creativity by two parents. Thus, if the mother values creativity more than
the father, or vice versa, then there is the beginning of a likely problem.
Fourth, the school curriculum is interpreted by these children and a parent ally
as inadequate in terms of lack of challenge, interest and creativity. That is, the young
child develops quite early the power that comes with an alliance of control with
one adult against a system. If the adult and child together are realistic in assessing
the problem and the curriculum is adjusted and the child is then expected to conform
to those modifications, the alliance may be a productive one and will not result
in educational harm to the child. If the assessment of the problem is not appropriate,
or even if it is appropriate and parent and child do not effectively change their
134 Creative problem solving environments

attitudes, the child will respond by not conforming to the requirements of the teacher
and will feel justified in that non-performance.
It is actually worth reflecting on the correct quote from which the phrase
“marches to the beat of a different drummer” is drawn: “If a man does not keep
pace with his companions, perhaps it is because he hears a different drummer. Let
him step to the music which he hears, however measured, or far away.” Two
thoughts spring to my mind: even given Rimm’s caveats above, the child should
be allowed to step, or dance, to the music he or she hears; and, who is or who
will be the different drummer? The full, inspiring paragraph (Thoreau, 2009,
Conclusion, §10) reads:

Why should we be in such desperate haste to succeed and in such desperate

enterprises? If a man does not keep pace with his companions, perhaps it is
because he hears a different drummer. Let him step to the music which he
hears, however measured or far away. It is not important that he should mature
as soon as an apple tree or an oak. Shall he turn his spring into summer? If
the condition of things which we were made for is not yet, what were any
reality which we can substitute? We will not be shipwrecked on a vain reality.
Shall we with pains erect a heaven of blue glass over ourselves, though when
it is done we shall be sure to gaze still at the true ethereal heaven far above,
as if the former were not?

Rimm (1987: later claims, dated 2001 and 2010, of copyright to a verbatim re-
print of this article seem to have forgotten the priority rule for academic publi-
cations – see www.sylviarimm.com/article_difdrum.html) offered quite specific
recommendations for the prevention and/or cure of what she called the
“underachievement syndrome” in creative children.

A parent should not ally with a child against another parent or against a teacher
in the name of creativity.
Encourage creative children to be productive in at least one area of creative
expression.
Do not attach labels such as ‘the creative child’.
Find appropriate models or mentors in areas of children’s creativity. Rimm
emphasised ‘appropriate’, as children, particularly in adolescence, easily discover
inappropriate models who are also creative underachievers; an appropriate
model should be an achieving creative person.
Find a peer environment that combines creativity and achievement.
Encourage intrinsic motivation while also teaching competition.
Use creative strengths to build up weaknesses.
Avoid confrontations, particularly if you cannot control the outcomes.
Help creative adolescents to plan a creative future.
(Rimm, 1987)
 Creative problem solving environments 135

Another factor that will act to inhibit the expression of creativity is over-reliance
on logic. Many highly creative people, in the sciences as well as in the humanities,
have thought metaphorically as well as logically and verbally, and the import-
ance of this ability is recognised in some of the strategies and techniques used to
support creative thinking. Einstein is often cited in support of the relative value
of imagination compared with logic, and here I see no reason not to also do so
as well.

Imagination is more important than knowledge. For knowledge is limited

to all we now know and understand, while imagination embraces the entire
world, and all there ever will be to know and understand. . . . Imagination
is everything. It is the preview of life’s coming attractions.
(Einstein, 2011, p. 12)

But the place of imagination in education goes deeper than this, a point made very
carefully by Warnock (1976, pp. 202–203):

The belief that there is more in our experience of the world than can possibly
meet the unreflecting eye, that our experience is significant for us, and worth
the attempt to understand it . . . this kind of belief may be referred to as the
feeling of infinity. It is a sense (rather than an item in a creed) that there is
always more to experience, and more in what we experience than we can
predict. Without some such sense, even at the quite human level of there
being something which deeply absorbs our interest, human life becomes
perhaps not actually futile or pointless, but experienced as if it were. It
becomes, that is to say, boring. In my opinion, it is the main purpose of
education to give people the opportunity of not ever being, in this sense,
bored; of not ever succumbing to a feeling of futility, or to the belief that
they have come to an end of what is worth having. It may be that some
people do not need education to save them from this; my claim is only that,
if education has a justification, this salvation for those who do need it must
be its justification.

In their attempts to give children a sound knowledge base from which to operate,
teachers may still be conveying the message that they know most, if not all, of the
answers to the important questions in life. Necka (1989, pp. 25–27) gave some
sound advice, especially for teachers who may give the impression that knowledge
is clear-cut and that schooling is about learning already determined facts: do not
avoid questions; allow open questions; let important questions remain unanswered;
show incompleteness in the existing knowledge; show developmental trends in
human knowledge.
An issue closely related to an over-reliance on logic is the differentiation
between work and play. Creative people are often perceived to be playful, naïve
and childlike, for children are spontaneous, uninhibited, authentic and full of wonder
136 Creative problem solving environments

(Gardner, 1993; Runco, 2007). The very use of the term “school work” may restrict
a willingness to develop in children the mental playfulness that does seem to be
the essence of creativity. Similarly, given that the conditions apparently conducive
to the expression of creativity include freedom to explore, a rich informational
environment, and to be understood by someone (for conformity is usually the
means to social and material rewards, and nonconformity the costly and lonely
alternative), a lack of these may be associated with underachievement, especially
for the person who is highly creative. Clearly it would be better to see the creative
person as neither conforming nor nonconforming, but rather as “free to conform
or not conform, depending on what is true, pleasing, good, or beautiful” (Sternberg,
1990, p. 44).
In his book on paranoid parenting (a precursor to helicopter parenting), Furedi
(2001, p. 27) highlighted what he saw as a major cultural obstacle to the develop-
ment of children’s creativity, stating that:

A culture of fear has led parents to restrict their children’s independent out-
door activities. In 1971, eight out of ten 8-year-olds were allowed to walk
to school alone. Now it is fewer than one in ten. At age 11 almost every
child used to walk, now it is down to 55 per cent and falling. A report
published by the Children’s Play Council in 1997 argued that children
had become virtual prisoners in their own homes. Paranoid parenting does
not only restrict children’s freedom to play. It also diminishes the creative
aspect of play. There is considerable evidence that children are more creative
when their parents are not around to monitor their behaviour. A study by
Dale Grubb and Alicia Snyder concludes that adult supervision turns play
into a structured activity and that this weakens youngsters’ drive to
experiment. Unfortunately, the concept of unsupervised children’s activity
– what used to be called play – is now defined by child professionals as
a risk.

It is very informative and interesting to compare Furedi’s perspective with that

of the tiger mother provocatively portrayed by Chua (2011; for an excellent
analytical review, see MacRaild, 2011). Guided by the tenet Learn to know and not
born to know, Chua presents strongly held perspectives on numerous issues regarding
a Confucian understanding of talent development within the home. On the one
hand, insights can be gained regarding ways to support and encourage students and
parents in their respective roles. Principles of deliberate practice, belief in a child’s
ability and the priority of developing their resilience are all powerfully presented
in her memoir. On the other hand, aspects of Confucianism, which deprive children
of opportunities to voice opinions or think independently, can hinder children’s
development of creative aspects of intelligence. It is a challenging read for both
parents and educators, and perhaps also for the tiger mother herself, who
summarised some of the difficulties involved in parenting or educating children
with these self deprecating words:
 Creative problem solving environments 137

This was supposed to be a story of how Chinese parents are better at raising
kids than Western ones. But instead, it’s about a bitter clash of cultures, a
fleeting taste of glory, and how I was humbled by a thirteen year old.
(Chua, 2011, Foreword)

Creating a creative problem solving environment

There is a plethora of advice available on how to translate the theory on creative
knowledge environments into the contexts of creative problem solving in the
classroom and in the school. For example, in the epigraph at the beginning of this
chapter Pólya advocated, with a twinkle in his eye, that the psychological environ-
ment of the classroom should promote intuition, or (informed) guessing. The
following suggestions are distilled from my reading and teaching experience from
the past 25 years. As such, it is acknowledged that the evidence supporting these
ideas is largely qualitative and often anecdotal, so that the advice should be taken
in the spirit in which it is offered and with a grain of salt, and that the suggestions
do need to be contextualised and developed through exploratory and action
research.
First, if a problem solving environment with a large amount of freedom of choice
is to be created (a facilitating environment rather than a hampering one) then the
teacher needs to ensure three things:

The teacher’s own “real problems” must not be forced on the students. Careful
planning and preparation will help to ensure that what is selected to be
introduced to a class is based on the concerns of the students. If the students
do not recognise and accept the problem, then the problem will not be real
to them.
The teacher needs to relinquish control of the problem so that it does become
the students’ own problem. If the problem really does matter to the students,
they will undoubtedly have ideas about how to proceed and why the problem
should be approached in their way. The students’ flow of ideas and decision
making should not be impaired or interrupted by the teacher attempting to
maintain or regain full control of the problem’s solution, or by the teacher
manipulating the students’ work to fit in with the teacher’s pre-conceived
ideas.
At all stages of the problem solving process, the teacher should be careful
not to take the problem away from the students. That is, the teacher should
in no way insist that students go about their investigations or collect infor-
mation in a certain way. The students must be allowed to find their own
approaches to a solution even if the teacher, (supposedly) more experienced
in solving problems, is able to see a “better” or “more efficient” way. For the
teacher to impose on the students a particular approach to solving the problem,
the problem is taken away from the students and it will no longer be real for
them.
138 Creative problem solving environments

In case this all sounds too high powered, let us look at some examples, provided
by Fisher (1987, p. 248), of “real problems” that were tackled by real primary
students: organising a class Christmas party; planning a school assembly; reorganising
the classroom; improving lunch time and “little lunch” time on wet days; publishing
a school magazine; creating a school garden bed; organising and running children’s
games at the school fete; improving the queuing system at the school tuck shop;
planning, organising and running the school sports day; forming a junior youth club.
Second, if a problem solving environment is to be created, then the teacher needs
to provide a positive classroom climate with the right kind of physical and
psychological environment. Even though the teacher may be, will be, restricted
in the physical resources available in (and out of) the classroom, the physical lay-
out of the room can be arranged so that it is both structured and allows mobility.
The following suggestions are a way of starting to foster a creative psychological
environment in the classroom:

provide a non-threatening atmosphere;

do not become the judge of all products in the classroom;
model creative thinking, and model creative problem solving;
integrate activities and questions that encourage creative expression and
evaluation into as many content areas as possible;
allow and remind students to be original, to think of new ways to solve a
problem, to explore new ways of expressing themselves, to be creative;
choose appropriate reinforcement;
provide stimuli for as many of the senses as possible;
make use of (fun but mentally stimulating) warm-up activities when moving
from highly structured convergent or memory type activities into activities
requiring students to engage in creative production;
incorporate activities into the classroom instruction that require students to
generate a large number of correct responses;
teach strategies and techniques that are aimed at promoting the expression of
creativity (that is, the kinds of strategies and techniques, and more, that are
discussed in Chapter Four, above).
(Gallagher, 1985)

Third, if a creative problem solving environment is to be created in a school context,

the teacher must creatively and actively teach. Active teaching here will include
teaching students how to: think of different ways to accomplish an objective; select
the best one; frame relevant questions; know or discover when a problem exists;
evaluate the quality of an idea by its consequences. Active teaching will require
the teacher to: provide many examples and exercises to model, practise and
develop problem solving skills; provide unstructured learning situations; reward
original and relevant ideas; provide students with a tangible structure or plan for
approaching solutions to problems (such a plan might include recognising puzzling
 Creative problem solving environments 139

facts, seeking information, generating possible solutions, changing perspectives, and

restating the goal); teach the value of persistence when attempts fail or are not
successful. In various senses of the word, the teacher should ensure that attempts
at creative problem solving are fun, and help students to enjoy the creative process
(Halpern, 2003).
Langer (1989, p. 123) illustrated several of these points when she discussed her
concept of “mindfulness”. She described how simple differences in teaching
approach may encourage children’s creativity, using by way of example a lesson
in which Teresa Amabile was working with a group of preschool children:

The children were asked to make collages and were randomly assigned either
to a group in which they were encouraged to choose the art materials they
would be using, or to a group in which they would use material chosen for
them by the experimenter. After they had finished, judges who did not know
which group was which found that the collages of students who selected their
own materials were made more creatively. These results could be explained
in at least two ways. First, choice makes us feel more responsible for what
we are doing; the children given the choice might have cared more and tried
harder. Choosing materials – making comparisons – also forces us to draw
mindful distinctions. It encourages a conditional view, a sense of possibility.
For example, in choosing between two colors the child might think more of
what can be done with a color than if he or she were simply given one color.
In this way, choice encourages mindfulness. [My emphasis.]

Eminence, and the development of expertise

Another approach to creating a creative knowledge environment has come from
research on the development of expertise in specific fields of endeavour and from
studies of highly accomplished (or highly acclaimed) exponents in these fields, and,
from these, noting common life events and common personality traits that seem
to coalesce to produce highly creative people. One persistent niggle I have in my
mind about such approaches is that they appear to me to be akin to haruspication:
they tend to dissect the lives of successful adults, and present a checklist of to-do
learning experiences that will develop so-called creative behaviour, which will
inevitably produce a future eminent adult. Not only should both the nature of the
post hoc research and the notion of “successful” (including how it is measured)
be seriously questioned, it is not at all clear to me the extent to which the findings
from studies of adult behaviours are actually applicable to understanding the
developing minds of either young children or pubescent adolescents. At least I am
not alone in raising this worry: indeed, in his analysis of six sets of longitudinal
data on giftedness and creativity, for example, Albert (1996) found precious
little evidence to support the belief that creativity in adults is mirrored in children.
Perhaps in all fairness, though, the studies of eminence and developing expertise
do reinforce the importance of deliberate practice (cf. Gagné, 2008) and of
140 Creative problem solving environments

development of habits of mind (cf. Flynn, 2007), both of which are conducive to
or supportive of the later expression of creativity.
In a classical study examining the lives of famous musicians and athletes, Pressey
(1955) found five common conditions for facilitating creative talent:

They spent their early years in the company of family and friends who
encouraged them to develop their skills.
Special instruction and guidance came early in life, and the quality of edu-
cational experiences was consistently superior.
There was opportunity for the precocious children to practise their skills as
much as necessary and to progress at their own pace.
The children had extensive contact with people who shared their interests and
who could participate in their creative activities.
As the children grew older, they received accolades for their accomplishments
from a steadily widening audience that constantly stimulated them to reach
new heights of creativity.

Note the inclusion of (academic) acceleration in terms of “not holding talents back”
when children are ready and willing to make rapid progress (cf. Tannenbaum, 1983,
p. 255).
In his longitudinal study of two distinct groups of boys and their families, Albert
(1980) explored the relationship between cognitive and personality development,
and later eminence. Perhaps not surprisingly, he found that human development
is multifaceted and longitudinal, occurring over extended periods of time. Even
though the participants in this study were exceptionally gifted in Mathematics, his
findings led Albert (1980) to offer the following advice, which he suggested parents
and teachers might follow with all children:

It is important to help a child experience emotions, such as anger, joy, love,

passion, which as the crucible of creativeness serve as early clues to its presence.
It is more important to teach involvement rather than surface techniques.
It is important to allow the child to discover through firsthand experiences
what they can do best.
It is important to allow the child to experience novelty, flexibility, error and
surprise.
The best learning and the best teaching occur when both student and teacher
are actively engaged and take chances with each other.

Of course, many well-documented eminent careers involve persons who were

cognitively gifted youths, and we have much to learn from such people. Just as
important to consider are the exceptions, including those whose giftedness was
hidden! And perhaps we have even more to learn from these people. If an example
is needed, it is hard to go past one of my heroes Fred Hollows (1929–1993), an
 Creative problem solving environments 141

irreverent ophthalmologist who worked to restore eyesight for many thousands

of people in developing countries in Africa and Asia (Hollows & Corris, 1991),
whom Follett (1993) described as:

An egalitarian and a self-named anarcho-syndicalist who wanted to see an

end to the economic disparity which exists between the First and Third
Worlds and who believed in no power higher than the best expressions of
the human spirit found in personal and social relationships.

Some examples of interesting learning environments

To round off this chapter on creative problem solving environments, I would like
to show-and-tell a biased sample of interesting teaching and learning environ-
ments that I claim, with varying degrees and levels of supportive evidence, are
constructive, creative problem solving environments.

Communities of enquiry
In Chapter 5, we met communities of enquiry and the philosophy for children
programmes that sit so well under its aegis. Features of a community of enquiry
are: inclusiveness; participation; shared cognition; face-to-face relationships; a
quest for meaning; feelings of social solidarity; deliberation; impartiality; model-
ling; thinking for oneself; challenging, as a procedure; reasonableness; deep reading;
questioning; discussion; and reflection (Lipman, 2003). For further reading, I
recommend Lipman (2003, chapter 4), and naturally the original writings of
Dewey (1916, 1933, 1938a).

Martin’s (2014) philosophy program

A crucial element to teaching critical thinking is teacher modelling, and many
students may not be able to develop critical thinking skills because their teachers
are not able to model critical thinking appropriately or sufficiently. Martin’s (2014)
programme in critical thinking and philosophy was designed, first, for teachers
who have little if any background in critical thinking and philosophy, and, second,
to teach critical thinking skills in subject English in order to learn skills applicable
across the curriculum. Part of Martin’s motivation was to see whether, as a cons-
equence of their exposure to the programme, some students would, for the first
time at least in a school setting, exhibit thinking skills described as “indicators of
giftedness”.
For each of the contexts in which the programme was implemented, Martin
(2014) found that the participating teachers, experienced and inexperienced
alike, both in teaching and in teaching critical thinking and philosophy, reported
success in acquiring the skills to engage in a collaborative approach with their
students while presenting Martin’s programme. Again for each of the contexts in
which the programme was implemented, participating teachers reported that, as a
142 Creative problem solving environments

consequence of the programme, “indicators of giftedness” had emerged in some

students who had not previously demonstrated such behaviours.
Martin (2014) concluded that teachers can indeed acquire the skills necessary
to model critical thinking by being provided with a programme that enables them
to engage in critical thinking and philosophical discourse collaboratively with their
students, and that other means of professional learning or development are not
required. He also concluded, perhaps contentiously, that identification of
academically gifted students for special programmes is unnecessary (cf. Martin &
Merrotsy, 2013).

Service learning
Programmes that intentionally integrate supposedly voluntary community service
activities into the academic curriculum are collectively referred to as service
learning, although according to Wiebusch (2006) there are about 150 different
understandings of this term in the literature. Service learning offers students an
opportunity to make a meaningful contribution to their community, or to the wider
community, to acquire knowledge, skills and values through self discovery, and
to reflect on this first hand, real world experience within the context of an aca-
demic environment. Service connected to learning appears to be a powerful way
of addressing both the cognitive and the affective needs of students.
The concept of service learning arises directly from the educational philosophy
of Dewey (1916) and from Kilpatrick’s (1918) “project method”, but appears to
have been implemented as curriculum only as late as 1967 (Wiebusch, 2006). Since
then, a large body of semi-formal research and anecdotal reports suggest that service
learning in its various guises has a strong positive effect on academic outcomes,
personal and social development, and on civic responsibility, particularly for high
ability students.
For a useful summary of the literature and research on service learning, see
Wiebusch (2006); for a robust model of service learning set within an enquiry
framework, see Cam (2006).

Problem based learning

Again deeply influenced by the thinking of Dewey (1916) and Kilpatrick (1918),
problem based learning has become a well-established model of professional
learning in tertiary level programmes, in particular for the discipline of medicine.
Related approaches include project based learning, experience based learning,
enquiry based learning, case based learning, anchored instruction, and, perhaps more
appropriate in a school context, challenge based learning. Broadly speaking,
problem based learning is defined as collaborative, student centred exploration of
real world problems, for which the teacher acts as a facilitator (or tutor, or mentor)
who offers decreasing guidance over time (Savery, 2006; Strobel & van Barneveld,
2009). Here, the emphasis is on how to deal with the complexity of a problem
 Creative problem solving environments 143

and how to integrate the use of a wide range of techniques in its solution or
resolution, and the collaboration may involve teams of people with perhaps
different specialist knowledge (Michalewicz & Michalewicz, 2008). The pedagogy
of problem based learning is designed to develop:

extensive and flexible content knowledge and thinking skills;

effective problem solving skills;
self directed, lifelong learning skills;
effective collaboration; and
intrinsic motivation to learn.
(Hmelo-Silver, 2004)

Although above in this chapter we have extensively discussed learning environ-

ments, specifically with respect to problem based learning, here I would also
recommend Jonassen’s (2011) handbook for designing problem solving learning
environments, detailing case studies, cases as analogues, cases as prior experiences,
cases as problems to solve, alternative perspectives, simulations and worked
examples.
A mountain of research has been conducted on problem based learning (e.g.
a quick Google Scholar check resulted in 3.5 million hits), and it appears (from
my university library’s Internet search engine) that much of the research has
been conducted in tertiary education contexts. Three papers that I found useful
compared problem based learning environments with traditional settings and
reported mixed findings from research (Alfieri, Brooks, Aldrich & Tenenbaum,
2011; a meta-synthesis of meta-analyses by Strobel & van Barneveld, 2009; Wijnia,
Loyens & Derous, 2011).
There has also been extensive debate arising from mixed interpretations of some
of the research findings. For example, Kirschner, Sweller and Clark (2006) strongly
criticised the efficacy of minimally guided discovery learning or problem based
learning involving real world problems, at least when compared with direct
instructional methods. Their worry was that the methods and processes used by
professionals (i.e. experts) to solve problems within a discipline are inappropriate
as a model for teaching and learning. They argued that such methods and processes
of problem solving are different from the processes and methods used by students
to learn: after all, to solve problems, the experts draw on a large knowledge base
developed over many years; and in any case, how an expert solves a problem is
different from how the expert actually learns (say Kirschner et al., 2006; for further
commentary on this important and fascinating debate, see Hmelo-Silver, Duncan
& Chinn, 2007; and Schmidt, Loyens, van Gog & Paas, 2007).
Again using my university library’s Internet search engine, I located merely a
handful of articles reporting the findings of research on models of problem based
learning implemented with adolescents or with children. Similarly, the review
by Jerzembek and Murphy (2013) found six (one qualitative and five evaluative)
studies involving small samples of participants who were school aged children or
144 Creative problem solving environments

adolescents. From their evaluation, they were only able to conclude that school
pedagogic practice informed by problem based learning principles might have a
positive influence on personal and academic development.
For an excellent model of problem based learning implemented in a senior
secondary setting, see the Australian Science and Mathematics School, a school with
no classrooms in Adelaide, South Australia (www.asms.sa.edu.au/).

Model eliciting activities

Currently mainly used in engineering education, a model eliciting activity creates
an environment in which cross discipline skills are applied for effective problem
solving. A model eliciting activity tends to be presented in the form of an open-
ended problem that will require students to create and to test models in order to
solve a complex, real world problem. Suitable problems are constructed following
six general principles: model construction; reality; self assessment; model docu-
mentation; construct share-ability and re-usability, that is, generalisability; and
effective prototype. Hence, a carefully constructed model eliciting activity will
require an individual student or teams of students to construct, describe, explain
and cope with complex systems, to create, adopt and adapt conceptual tools, and
to communicate effectively (Diefes-Dux et al., 2004; Yildirim, Shuman &
Besterfield-Sacre, 2010.)
Model eliciting activities are certainly translatable from the tertiary engineering
context into a more general school setting (see, for example, Bostic, 2013), and
some current approaches to improving engagement and learning in STEM
curriculum appear to be moving in this direction, at least in Australia (Hackling,
Murcia, West & Anderson, 2014; Science and Technology Education Leveraging
Relevance STELR project, Australian Academy of Technological Sciences and
Engineering ATSE, http://dev.stelr.org.au/ – albeit in both cases different language
is used).

Puzzle based learning

Although surely an ancient pedagogy, Michalewicz and colleagues, deeply influ-
enced by Pólya (1945) and all things Pólya (1954, 1962), have developed a
pedagogy of puzzle based learning. Their structured programme focuses on framing
and solving unstructured problems: problems in the form or art of educational
puzzles that support problem solving skills and creative thinking; problems that are
engaging and thought provoking, and illustrate powerful and useful problem
solving rules in an entertaining way. The entertainment factor is important, and
is often a side effect of an interesting puzzle context, the seeming simplicity of
the puzzle, and a certain level of frustration followed by a Eureka moment. The
best educational puzzles used in puzzle based learning have elementary solutions
that are not obvious, or, better, that are counter-intuitive, and are characterised
 Creative problem solving environments 145

by both simplicity (they are easy to state and easy to remember), and generality
(they explain some universal problem solving principle or deep truth) (Meyer,
Falkner, Sooriamurthi & Michalewicz, 2014; Michalewicz & Fogel, 2000;
Michalewicz & Michalewicz, 2008).
For a guide to general pedagogical issues related to puzzle based learning, and
specific applications in a tertiary context, see Meyer et al. (2014).
Several possible models, which in my opinion still require a stronger pedago-
gical framework, do exist for the secondary school context, and indeed for the
primary school context. Since 1996, the University of Cambridge has hosted the
non-scaffolded NRICH programme (http://nrich.maths.org/), which aims to
enrich, challenge and engage students while developing mathematical thinking and
problem solving skills. During the past decade, Blair (www.inquirymaths.com/)
has independently developed what he calls “inquiry prompts”, set within a well
scaffolded model of teaching that encourages students to regulate their problem
solving activity.
Following an established history since the mid 1970s of providing challenge
and delight to secondary students in the form of a growing national Mathematics
competition, the Australian Mathematics Trust was established in 1992 explicitly
in response to a perceived need to add value to the school learning experience
(https://sites.google.com/site/pjt154/home). As well as offering various levels of
competition, the Australian Mathematics Trust (www.amt.edu.au/) offers an Infor-
matics programme, and an enrichment programme called the Mathematics
Challenge for Young Australians, comprising a Challenge (problem solving) Stage
and an Enrichment Stage (with six stages of its own, named the Newton, Dirichlet,
Euler, Gauss, Noether and Pólya series).
Shaw (pers. comm., ongoing) is successfully applying puzzle based learning in
a secondary school in Perth, Australia, where success is measured by increased
participation on non-core Mathematics activities, persistent engagement in
extended puzzle related activities, articulated metacognition while in the process
of attempting to solve puzzles, and expressed enjoyment of approaching solutions
to puzzles.

Competitions
Following the notion of problem and puzzle based learning associated with
challenge and enjoyment, general and subject specific problem solving competitions
abound. In Mathematics in Australia, for example, there are local, regional, state
(e.g. the University of New South Wales Mathematics Competition, run since
1962), state Mathematical association, national (e.g. the Australian Mathematics
Competition, run since 1978), national olympiad, and international olympiad
competitions. General problem solving competitions include, in no particular order
and ignoring any related politics: Tournament of Minds (www.tom.edu.au/);
Destination Imagination (www.destinationimagination.org/; www.idodi.org/);
146 Creative problem solving environments

Odyssey of the Mind (www.odysseyofthemind.com/); OptiMinds (www.

optimindswa.com.au/); and Future Problem Solving Program (www.fpsp.org.au/),
including the Global Issues and the Community Problem Solving components,
with the bold claim of being “the most challenging international thinking program”.
If one were to question the educational value of such competitions, then Riley
and Karnes (1999) advised that participation should result in appropriate and
identified learning outcomes:

an increase in knowledge, strengthening of knowledge, and enhancement of

understanding of thematic concepts;
the development of a range of process skills (problem solving, research,
method of enquiry, communication, and higher order thinking);
the development of a broad range of products arising from investigations of
real problems.

Mentors
Mentor was an old friend of King Odysseus. When the king set sail for Troy, he
entrusted his whole household to Mentor, who became the guide and adviser of
Telemachus, the young son of Odysseus (Homer ’Oδύσσειας, B 224–227). In its
current and general educational sense, a mentor is a benevolent, wise, experienced
and trusted protector, counselor and teacher (and perhaps master) who fulfils a
similar role. In another sense, the mentor apprentices the pupil to the deeper
knowledge, skills and methods of enquiry of a particular discipline, and subject
matter expertise arises naturally from this professional relationship. And I should
note here that I refuse to use the most awkward and in my opinion incorrect term
“mentee”.
The value and effectiveness of mentor programmes is quite equivocal: Hattie
(2009) reported an effect size of 0.15 (apparently worse than doing nothing); but
Bloom (1985) concluded that individual mentors are necessary for the achievement
of excellence. One reason for the mixed findings from research is that, although
mentor programmes are frequently recommended as a component of education of
high ability students, mentor programmes involving such students actually are not
all that common (Grassinger, Porath & Ziegler, 2010; Merrotsy, 2003). Another
reason is that, somewhere between Bloom’s qualitative study of 120 individuals
who had achieved acclaim and Hattie’s meta-analysis, we can probably conclude
that most mentoring programmes do not fulfil minimum conceptual and theoretical
requirements for appropriate educational intervention and provision. Grassinger
et al. (2010, pp. 32–34) suggested that a mentor programme will be pedagogically
robust when it:

• allows full use of the Learning Triad – model, instruct, and transmit or make
available opportunities for experience; and
 Creative problem solving environments 147

• satisfies the Big Four effective learning processes – improvement oriented

learning, individualisation, feedback, and practice, especially practice of tasks
that require minimal transfer.

Nongraded classes
For those who are worried, and rightly so, by the entrenched, strictly limiting,
restrictive, constrictive environment of lock-step systems of sorting students by age
and grade, the concept of mixed grade, multi-grade, multi-age, or, better, non-
graded classes (Cornish, 2010) will come as a liberating epiphany. The key idea
here is that in multiage and nongraded classes decisions about student learning are
not based on assumptions related to age or to grade. Rather, teachers of multiage
and nongraded classes consider each student to be an individual, and hence design
“developmentally appropriate” curriculum, and plan structured teaching and
learning activities based on each individual’s needs (Cornish, 2009). To be sure,
mixed grade teachers are certainly confronted by student diversity, but the notion
of homogeneity is not at all sustainable for single grade classes either. In any case,
a teacher who implements developmentally appropriate curriculum is likely to
have a class in which high ability students thrive. Multiage and nongraded classes
appear to be wonderfully rich and particularly fruitful environments in which
developmentally appropriate curriculum can be best implemented. For example,
the Board of Studies NSW (2000) has promoted flexible school organisation, along
with vertical and flexible grouping (perhaps implemented in the form of a vertical
semester organisation) to facilitate flexible progression including various forms of
academic acceleration (Board of Studies NSW, 2000). Educational outcomes
flowing from such multiage classes can be quite remarkable, and especially so for
high ability students (Fardell & Geake, 2003, 2005; Merrotsy, 2002).

Concluding remarks
In this chapter we have explored some ideas for creating and establishing a positive,
constructive creative problem solving environment (and along the way we have
also touched on what-not-to-do). It will be no surprise that many of the learning
environments for creative problem solving actually start with a problem. Although
often glossed in the literature as simply being problem based learning, or something
perhaps akin to that, each of these learning environments has subtle differences
from each of the others, differences that are seen not only in the different learning
outcomes but also in the nature of the teacher and student relationship. For some
elaboration of what is meant here, supported by 33 examples of such learning
environments, see Woods (2014), with criteria for you to help choose which model
might be best for you.
However, the point that I am wanting to make here is that we have been
exploring system, school and classroom learning environments that are essentially
148 Creative problem solving environments

external to the student. At the same time, and some would say more importantly,
we need to explore the kinds of environments, internal to the student, which will
support the development and expression of creative problem solving abilities. In
the following chapter we turn our attention towards a teaching and learning
framework that will support goal management and growth of independence and
development of autonomy, all so necessary for independent creative problem solving.

∞
7
SELF REGULATED LEARNING

“Teaching to think” means that the teacher should not merely impart information, but
should try also to develop the ability of the students to use the information imparted:
[the teacher] should stress know-how, useful attitudes, desirable habits of mind.
(Pólya, 1963, p. 605)

In this chapter we will:

• revisit how children and adolescents learn;

• present a range of models for programming teaching and learning activities,
and for assessing student learning;
• discuss the role of motivation, volition, flow, and goal orientation in the
teaching and learning process;
• explore the concept of self regulated learning.

Introductory remarks
An oft espoused purpose of school education is to prepare students for lifelong
learning (Aspin, 2007). The process of learning is not completed until life’s end
(the converse of this might well be, “Most people would sooner die than think;
in fact, they do!” Bertrand Russell, cited in Martin, 2014). And since learning is
solving problems, the inherent processes of creativity along with the expression of
creativity through creative problem solving unfold over a lifetime (Csikszentmihalyi,
1996). Hence, the best, the very best, that schools can do for their students is to
equip them with liberating lifelong learning skills, with skills for self directed learning.
These skills belong to the internal environment of the student. The self directed
learner has intrapersonal strength for goal management through motivation, volition
and resilience; the self directed learner is independent and autonomous.
150 Self regulated learning

Goal management and autonomy do not come automatically. Like any learning,
they require energy and time, and motivation, if not willpower. A strong framework
that builds and grows these skills, and many of the other skills necessary for self
directed learning, can be found in various models of self regulated learning. In
order to work through, or towards, the labyrinth of self regulated learning, we
will need to acquaint or re-acquaint ourselves with some pedagogical tools-of-trade,
such as questioning, and models for programming and assessment. But let us first
begin with an example of a teaching and learning model that focuses on learning
how to learn.

The Project for Enhancing Effective Learning

How do students learn? And how does anyone learn, for that matter – is there a
difference?
A suitable retort to these questions is to ask the converse, “How do students
not learn?” This was the approach initially taken by the teaching and learning
community that constitutes the Project for Enhancing Effective Learning (PEEL).
The PEEL group was established in 1985 in an honest-to-goodness working
class secondary school in Melbourne, Australia. The project was not instigated
by any systemic or institutional level initiative, nor was it funded; rather, it was
founded because a group of teachers and academics were worried about “the
prevalence of passive, unreflective, dependent student learning” (Mitchell &
Mitchell, 2008, p. 7).
PEEL developed in four stages. Baird and Mitchell (1986) first explored how
students do not learn, describing seven behaviours that are related to poor learning
outcomes and to “unknowing” approaches to learning: impulsive attention, super-
ficial attention, inappropriate application, inadequate monitoring, premature
closure, ineffective restructuring, and lack of reflective thinking.
Baird and Mitchell (1986, p. 12) then listed four goals for the project (and it is
worth carefully attending to the differences between these goals and the aims of
many other pedagogical approaches):

to foster effective, independent learning through training for enhanced meta-

cognition;
to change teacher attitudes and behaviours to ones that promote such learn-
ing;
to investigate processes of teacher and student change as participants engage
in action research;
to identify factors that influence successful implementation of a programme
that aims to improve the quality of student learning.

Third, Baird and Mitchell (1986) observed student classroom learning, from which
they described five key points or issues:
 Self regulated learning 151

learning outcomes are determined by decisions made by the learner;

inadequate learning is due to inadequate decision making;
learners are often unaware of their learning problems, which generates poor
attitudes;
it takes energy to learn with understanding, or to unlearn a misconception;
increasing awareness of the nature and process of learning leads to improved
attitudes and procedures.

Fourth, in response to these observations Baird and Mitchell (1986) developed “good
learning behaviours” and the PEEL programme was established. From their earliest
form the notion of good learning behaviours has developed now into the PEEL
Twelve Principles of Teaching:

1 Share intellectual control with students.

2 Look for occasions when students can work out part (or all) of the content
or instructions.
3 Provide opportunities for choice and independent decision making.
4 Provide a diverse range of ways of experiencing success.
5 Promote talk that is exploratory, tentative and hypothetical.
6 Encourage students to learn from each other’s questions and comments.
7 Build a classroom environment that supports risk taking.
8 Use a wide variety of intellectually challenging teaching procedures.
9 Use teaching procedures that are designed to promote specific aspects of quality
learning.
10 Develop student awareness of the big picture; that is, how the various activities
fit together and link to the big ideas.
11 Regularly raise student awareness of the nature of different aspects of quality
learning.
12 Promote assessment as part of the learning process.
(PEEL, 2009)

Over the past 30-odd years, PEEL has met with mixed fortunes: the programme
has been implemented in Australia as well as many other countries such as New
Zealand, Canada, Great Britain, Sweden and Iceland, but the PEEL group is no
longer as active as it once was. Nevertheless, for those who are looking for school
curriculum reform that will enhance “learning how to learn”, PEEL is supported
by a newsletter PEEL Seeds; approximately 1500 articles or ideas for “quality
teaching”; and professional learning in the form, for example, of descriptions of
over 200 generic successful teaching procedures where success is claimed in terms
of higher levels of student engagement and interest, and more purposeful learning
(Cornish & Garner, 2009, pp. 72ff.; Mitchell, 2009; Mitchell & Mitchell, 2008;
PEEL, 2009).
152 Self regulated learning

Questioning
“No other event better portends learning than a question arising in the mind!”
(Dillon, 1988, p. ix).
Dillon (1988, pp. 18–23) has conveniently provided an analysis of the internal
environment that provides the urge to ask a question. The impetus is the experi-
ence of perplexity. Without perplexity there will be no questioning and there
will be no learning (although even with perplexity neither is guaranteed). The
formulation and asking of a question that has arisen out of becoming perplexed
is then saying that I am ignorant: “I do not know.” It takes courage to admit this;
it takes courage to ask a question. The act of answering the question will accordingly
follow, perhaps through a person, or from some kind of source, or by reflection,
thought and reason. It is the combination of question and answer, the resolution
of perplexity, that results in learning, or active learning, or active knowledge.
Inspired by Dillon’s work, Cornish and Garner (2009, p. 110) argued that “making
classrooms into forums for joint enquiry” through asking questions and seeking and
exploring answers to those questions promoted the right kind of internal environ-
ment for learning to take place. “Joint enquiry” will take place when both the teacher
and the students ask questions and seek answers. There is a proviso: the questions
need to be “good” questions. A “good question” can be readily defined as “one to
which you do not already know the answer” (Cornish & Garner, 2009, p. 115).
In the following section we discuss several models that provide a conceptual
framework for “asking good questions”, and for understanding student responses
to those questions.

Models for programming and assessment

Bloom’s Taxonomy (sic)

Benjamin Bloom (cited in Anderson & Sosniak, 1994, p. 9) himself once quipped
that the original Handbook (Bloom, 1956) was “one of the most widely cited yet
least read books in American education.”
Bloom’s Taxonomy is a framework for categorising educational objectives, or
at least one aspect of educational objectives. Correctly speaking, perhaps it should
be called Bloom, Englehart, Furst, Hill and Krathwohl’s Taxonomy, although during
the handful of years leading up to publication in 1956 many more people were
involved in its development. The original plan was to produce a classification of
educational objectives over three domains: the cognitive domain (Bloom, 1956);
the affective domain (Krathwohl, Bloom & Masia, 1964); and the psychomotor
domain, which never did make it into print.
A scientific taxonomy is hierarchical. Indeed, a huge majority of the literature
and commentary on Bloom’s Taxonomy refers to “levels”, in all cases differentiating
between the abilities or skills of the categories within the cognitive domain. My
judicious reading of Bloom (1956) has not been able to expiscate any reference to
 Self regulated learning 153

levels in this sense. In fact, in a taxonomy, the hierarchy is with respect to the
different levels of category, sub-category, sub-sub-category, and so on.
Allow me to mansplain (if needed, the Urban Dictionary will help with a
definition here) with the example of how our species Homo sapiens is categorised.
The different taxonomic levels for us include:

Domain Eukarya
Kingdom Animalia
Division Chordata
Class Mammalia
Order Primates
Family Hominidae
Genus Homo [L. = human]
Species H. sapiens

The species described within the genus of Homo include: H. antecessor,

H. cepranensis, H. erectus, H. ergaster, H. floresiensis, H. georgicus, H. habilis, H. heidel-
bergensis, H. helmei, H. mauretanicus, H. modjokertensis, H. neanderthalensis, H. palaeo-
javanicus, H. rhodesiensis, H. rudolfensis, H. soloensis, as well as H. sapiens, of course
(Henke & Hardt, 2011).
Note that within this taxonomy there is no value judgement made about any
hierarchy of these species, and nor should there be any – they are all members of
the genus Homo on the same level of the taxonomy. Analogously, no value
judgement is made about any hierarchy or any “levels” for the categories in Bloom’s
Taxonomy. Each category is equally important; each category can and should
involve both so-called lower order thinking or cognition, and so-called higher order
thinking or cognition.
The original taxonomy of the cognitive domain recognised six categories
(knowledge, comprehension, application, analysis, synthesis and evaluation), each
with its own sub-categories, and sub-sub-categories. In 2001, an excellent revision
of Bloom’s Taxonomy quietly appeared. The Revised Taxonomy (Anderson et
al., 2001) comprises: a knowledge dimension with four categories; and a cognitive
dimension with six categories (described by verbs), again with sub-categories
(described by what appear to be verbs but they could be gerunds).
The cognitive process dimension:

Remember – recognising, recalling

Understand – interpreting, exemplifying, classifying, summarising, inferring,
comparing, explaining
Apply – executing, implementing
Analyse – differentiating, organising, attributing
Evaluate – checking, critiquing
Create – generating, planning, producing.
(Anderson et al., 2001)
154 Self regulated learning

The knowledge dimension:

Factual knowledge – terminology, specific details and elements

Conceptual knowledge – classifications and categories, principles and
generalisations, theories, models and structures
Procedural knowledge – subject specific skills and algorithms, techniques and
methods, when to use appropriate procedures
Metacognitive knowledge – strategic knowledge, knowledge about cognitive
tasks, self knowledge.
(Anderson et al., 2001)

Here, of course, we could also add:

The affective domain

Receiving phenomena
Responding to phenomena
Valuing, organising or conceptualising values; and
Characterising or internalising values.
(Krathwohl et al., 1964)

Bloom’s Taxonomy provides a conceptual framework for holistic curriculum plan-

ning and development, and for holistic assessment design and evaluation of student
learning.
If what I have said is a reasonable interpretation of Bloom’s Taxonomy, then
I would like to reiterate, perhaps labour, the brief point made just above. Each of
the six categories of the cognitive domain (Bloom, 1956), or, better, each of the
24 elements comprising the six categories of the cognitive process dimension set
over against the four categories of the knowledge dimension (Anderson et al., 2001
– a useful grid indicates how to proceed) is equally important for curriculum planning
and assessment design. So, too, for that matter, is each of the four categories of
the affective domain (Krathwohl et al., 1964), a point often missed, or set aside as
too difficult, by practitioners when planning curriculum or designing assessment.
Over the course of a teaching cycle, teaching and learning activities and tasks used
to assess and evaluate student learning should include questions and problems that
require both so-called lower order thinking or cognition and so-called higher order
thinking or cognition, applied to develop thinking and show learning across the
full range of cognitive and affective abilities.

Structure of the Observed Learning Outcomes

The Structure of the Observed Learning Outcomes (SOLO) Taxonomy (Biggs,
1999; Biggs, n.d.; Biggs & Collis, 1982; Biggs & Tang, 2011) describes the stages
or levels of increasing complexity through which any learner proceeds, it is
 Self regulated learning 155

claimed, when developing mastery of a subject. Better, it describes levels of

“learning quality”. The SOLO Taxonomy model comprises five levels:

5 Extended abstract
4 Relational
3 Multistructural
2 Unistructural
1 Prestructural

Those with a smattering of education studies under their belt will see a connection
with Piaget’s stages of cognitive development (pre-operational, early concrete,
middle concrete, concrete generalisation, and formal operations). However, the
SOLO Taxonomy focuses on student responses to questions, and describes both
a progressive series of ways of understanding, and a sequence of levels of perform-
ance in activities designed to show that understanding. Biggs and Collis (1982, pp.
23–29) outlined the basic features of their SOLO Taxonomy in the following way.

Prestructural: minimal capacity; learning in a machine-like manner; closes

without even seeing the problem.
Unistructural: low capacity; generalisation only in one aspect; jumps to con-
clusions, and can be very inconsistent.
Multistructural: medium capacity; generalisation only in a few limited aspects;
closes too soon on basis of isolated fixations on data.
Relational: high capacity; generalisation by induction in the context; consistent
within the given system.
Extended abstract: maximal capacity; generalisation by deduction and induction
in the context; conclusions held open or qualified to allow logically possible
alternatives.

It is claimed that the SOLO Taxonomy is applicable in any subject area: Biggs and
Collis (1982) provided examples from the subject areas of history, Mathematics,
English (reading, poetry and creative writing), geography, and modern languages;
Pegg and colleagues (see, for example, Pegg & Tall, 2005) have applied it
extensively in Mathematics, albeit somewhat influenced also by van Hiele (1986).
However, do note that not all students will move through all five levels.
The SOLO Taxonomy may be used as a guide to the planning of learning
activities and assessment tasks, and as a guide to judging the quality of work produced
by students. Of course, for it to serve as a tool for assessing the quality of student
learning, the teacher first needs to ask questions that will obtain SOLO responses,
that is, to ask questions that will give the student an opportunity to respond at the
appropriate SOLO level.
When working with the SOLO Taxonomy, you may wish to keep an eye out
for top-end processors or “deconstructionists”. These are students who do not fit
156 Self regulated learning

the mould, who appear to prefer to learn by first immersing themselves in abstract
theory before exploring concrete ramifications of the subject. As far as I know,
there has been no research on whether such learners actually exist, but from time
to time they do crop up in conversation in the “gifted education” literature (cf.
Merrotsy, 2002, p. 193).

Salmon’s model of teaching and learning online

For those whose want, or wont, is creative problem solving in an e-environment,
Salmon (2011, pp. 31–54) proposed a five stage model supported by her action
research. Each stage includes the development and mastery of particular technical
skills for students, various e-moderating skills for teachers, and differing amounts
of interactivity both between student and teacher and between student and student.

5 Development
4 Knowledge construction
3 Information exchange
2 Online socialisation
1 Access and motivation

Salmon’s model provides a conceptual framework for structuring online learning

tasks and processes, for providing appropriate e-moderation, and for understanding
the level of student learning in an online environment.

Krutetskii’s mathematical abilities

Although this example is specific to creative problem solving within the field of
Mathematics, I strongly suspect that the ideas are readily transferable to other subject
areas. The psychology of mathematical ability was explored by Krutetskii, who
first published his research in Russian in 1963. For Krutetskii, ability to solve
problems in Mathematics was seen in terms of a student’s ability to:

formalise;
symbolise;
generalise;
carry out sequential deductive logic;
syncopate or to curtail logic or argument;
reverse logical thinking or find the converse;
be flexible in methods used; and
conceptualise spatially.
(Krutetskii, 1976)

Krutetskii also adds that, in a certain sense, a “mathematical mind” needs to develop,
preferably before puberty.
 Self regulated learning 157

Students with high ability or high potential in Mathematics enjoy and express
these abilities in a way that is markedly and qualitatively differentiated from the
ability of typical age peers, which is measurable in their ability to solve problems.
For Krutetskii, the ramifications of this are twofold. First, mathematical aptitude
or potential can be and should be assessed through problem solving activities that
respond to these abilities. This would suggest that, in order to adequately assess
high potential in Mathematics, methods more dynamic than traditional class-
room approaches to measuring mathematical ability need to be employed. Second,
mathematical creative problem solving ability can be developed or fostered by
scaffolding a student through a series of problems that address or invite the use of
these abilities when approaching their solution (Krutetskii, after all, was a good
student of Vygotsky). This, in turn, would suggest the need for both standard and
non-standard approaches to the teaching of mathematical concepts in the classroom:
the mathematical abilities need to be modelled and scaffolded, and alternative
approaches to working mathematically need to be recognised and encouraged and
honoured.
The problems that Krutetskii (1976; see also Kilpatrick & Wirszup, 1969, which
may be more accessible for some readers) used for both of these processes are very
interesting because of their nature, scope and level of difficulty, and are worth
seeking out. For a range of examples of problems that address Krutetskii’s mathe-
matical abilities, see Merrotsy (2008).

Having established a conceptual framework for understanding the quality of student

learning, and all that entails in the teaching and learning process, we now have
the pedagogical background needed to discuss the internal learning environment
of the student. I propose that this psychological environment, usually exemplified
by the notions of motivation and volition, will find a comfortable home within a
broader concept called self regulated learning.

Intrinsic motivation
Amabile’s (1990; 1996; 1998; Hennessey & Amabile, 1988) research on motivation
seems to have considerable relevance for teachers, in that she stresses the roles of
intrinsic motivation and the environment in cultivating creativity. First, the internal
reward (variously described as “satisfaction”, possibly “enjoyment”, or even “sense
of accomplishment”) gained by a successful act of creativity or problem solving is
usually more powerful and enduring in its effect than is an external reward. Note
the summary of this view reported in de Souza Fleith (2000, p. 148): “According
to Amabile, evaluation, competition, restricted choices, conformity pressure,
frequent failures and rote learning can destroy creativity in school.” Or better, in
Amabile’s (1990, p. 67) own words:
158 Self regulated learning

Intrinsic motivation is conducive to creativity, but extrinsic motivation is

detrimental. In other words, people will be most creative when they feel
motivated primarily by the interest, enjoyment, satisfaction, and challenge
of the work itself – and not by external pressures.

However, a more careful reading of Amabile’s writings will find that she did in
fact accept that some extrinsic rewards may be effective and enhance creativity if
used to initiate interest in a topic, skill or domain new to the individual, and if not
extended beyond this “attention getting” phase (an observation that had been pre-
empted three decades previously by Pressey, 1955, as noted in Chapter 6): “Perhaps,
under certain circumstances or with certain individuals, intrinsic and extrinsic forces
can combine in an additive fashion” (Hennessey & Amabile, 1988, p. 31).
Part of the mechanism that makes intrinsic motivation so important for creativity
may be an internal locus of control, the sense that you are in control of the task
at hand. As Perkins (1986, p. 117) saw it: “You are more likely to become invested
in a project where you decide how to proceed and what to try for than a project
where someone tells you exactly what is wanted and how to achieve it.” Hence
Perkins (1986, p. 120) suggested that encouraging students to find their own
problems should foster intrinsic motivation, because “they are likely to select
problems that they find more intrinsically motivating.”
Second, in order to create an environment in which creativity might be cultiva-
ted, and given that motivation is a such a strong driver of creativity, the possibility
that motivation might be more easily influenced than other contributing factors
leads to the conclusion that creativity will be developed through higher levels of
intrinsic motivation. Albeit set within a business or industrial context, Amabile (1998)
described six characteristics of an environment that influence intrinsic motivation.

Challenge: refers to the difference between being able to do something with

ease and being unable to achieve an objective. Sternberg and Lubart (1996)
suggest that there are five attributes related to motivation and challenge that
can be developed to cultivate creativity: tolerance of ambiguity, perseverance,
willingness to grow, openness to experience, and willingness to take risks.
Freedom: refers to student autonomy, choice and control.
Resources: a key resource is environmental context, which includes the poli-
tical atmosphere, the interpersonal relationships, the physical space, and the
equipment and supplies available.
Work-group features: diversity in group members, mutual respect, commit-
ment, involvement and excitement will foster creativity.
Supervisory encouragement: providing the appropriate level of scaffolding;
encouraging curiosity, exploration, confidence, risk-taking and balance; and
providing feedback, which is one of the most powerful influences on learning
and achievement (Hattie, 2009).
Organisational support: school, region and system level policies and procedures
that support creative efforts and that value and acknowledge creativity.
 Self regulated learning 159

Motivation and volition

The goal management dimension of Gagné’s (2008, 2009a) Differentiated Model
of Giftedness and Talent (DMGT) focuses on how students who are participating
in a systematic talent development programme define their excellence goals, and
how they work to reach them. In an exposition of the dynamics of the talent
development process in his DMGT, Gagné (2010) adopted a form of the “Rubicon
model of motivation” to distinguish between motivation and volition and to describe
their relationship to self regulation and goal management.
The Rubicon is a red muddy creek or stream in northern Italy, which Julius
Cæsar crossed in 49 BC as an act of insurrection; hence, the metaphor “crossing
the Rubicon” usually refers to an irrevocable commitment or to a risky or revo-
lutionary course of action. As an aside, it may be worth demythologising what
history tells us: for after all the general did have a legion to hide behind; ἀνερρίφθω
κύβος (apparently Cæsar quoted Plutarch in Greek, not Latin) may be translated,
“Let the die be cast”, or, perhaps better, “Let the game begin”; and “crossing the
line in the sand” (for want of another metaphor) may have been less fateful decision
and more well informed dare. In any case, in motivation theory (theory of action
phases, and action control theory) the term Rubicon is used to refer to the boundary
or point of commitment between the formation of intentions (e.g. defining excel-
lence goals) and the process of implementing these intentions (e.g. working to
reach these excellence goals).
According to Gollwitzer (1999), the formation or motivation stage involves
complex planning and goal setting processes: initial wishes and desires are devel-
oped and expressed, and evaluated in terms of several criteria including their
desirability and chance of fulfilment; a positive evaluation results in an intention
to act towards a particular goal, which in turn determines and guides an action
sequence aimed at reaching that goal. The implementation or volition stage
involves the maintenance and control of motivation during the enactment of the
intention.
For Gagné (2010), a crucial component of goal management is self aware-
ness: to select an appropriate talent goal, gifted students must know their abilities
and personal traits; to successfully pursue goals and bring them to completion,
gifted students must carefully assess his or her strengths and weaknesses. For the
talent development process, goals refer to desired outcomes of high achievement,
outstanding performance or the expression of talent. Motives, then, refer to the
reasons underlying the various goal choices: personal needs, values and interests;
intrinsic motives; and extrinsic motives (and here Gagné noted that extrinsic
motivation can indeed be important for talent development). For the talent
development process, volition refers to willpower and to values, interests and self-
efficacy as they relate to or are directed towards high personal performance.
Volitional processes are processes of action control: these processes can be consci-
ously controlled; and over time these processes can be automatised. The main
function of volitional processes is to direct and control intellectual, emotional and
160 Self regulated learning

behavioural activities when goals are perceived to require effort to attain (see
Figure 7.1).
The Rubicon model of motivation does seem to fit well with Gagné’s DMGT
because it is so achievement oriented. In fact, in the review of the research
noted by Boekaerts and Corno (2005), most of the studies on this model have
included participants who tend to be high achieving adults – they are highly educated
and highly skilled learners in academic contexts. That is, the participants in the
studies were already academically talented, in Gagné’s sense of the term. Hence
it should be questioned the extent to which the findings from the research are
actually applicable to those students – children and adolescents – who are gifted
but not yet talented. To be fair, Gagné (2010, p. 97) did raise the question
about which factors are “more powerful predictors of outstanding performances”.
What worries me is the group of students whom the “predictors” identify, or do
not identify as the case may be, to be false negatives (if that is the right way to
express it). That is, the key issues of motivation theory for gifted students, especially
those who are underachieving, relate to the phenomena of perseverance, of
overcoming internal obstacles to action, and critically of initiating action in the
first place.

FIGURE 7.1 The Rubicon Model of motivation and volition.

Source: Gagné, 2010, p. 89, Figure 2, with permission from the author and High Ability Studies.
 Self regulated learning 161

Gagné also raised another point about the Rubicon model of motivation that
has implications for the classroom. He stated (Gagné, 2010, p. 93) that crossing
the boundary between motivation and volition, making that step of commitment
to achieving a goal, “need not be as final as the metaphor implies; when individuals
experience . . . difficulties, they will not hesitate to re-cross that virtual Rubicon
in order to reassess their initial goal.” However, both Gollwitzer (1999) and Corno
(cited in Boekaerts & Corno, 2005) demonstrated that once the commitment was
made, once the Rubicon was crossed, it tends to be difficult for individuals to
return to reconsider the goals that they have set. Rather, during the implementation
of intentions, the processes of action control are used to bolster poor decisions and
weak intentions. For a (school) child or adolescent, this might very well be not a
good thing. Or, as Boekaerts and Corno (2005, p. 206) put it, “The messy world
of classroom learning creates a situation in which dueling goals belie a strict linear
transition from motivational to volitional processing with a change that is difficult
to undo.” That is, the Rubicon metaphor appears to be inadequate to describe the
relationship between motivation and volition, between goal setting and goal
striving, at least in many school contexts. Nevertheless, it does seem to be quite
important for students to develop good work habits through deliberate practice
and application of volitional strategies, and a suitable framework in which this may
be achieved is self regulated learning.

Flow
“Flow” has become a central concept in understanding intrinsic motivation and
volition. The term was coined by Csikszentmihalyi (1975) to encapsulate the experi-
ence of a seemingly effortless yet highly focused state of consciousness, and its related
feelings of enjoyment, when a person is involved in an activity that has a purpose
and is rewarding just in itself. Csikszentmihalyi (1996) described the following nine
characteristics of the flow experience:

There are clear goals every step of the way.

There is immediate feedback to one’s actions.
There is a balance between challenges and skills.
Action and awareness are merged.
Distractions are excluded from consciousness.
There is no worry of failure.
Self consciousness disappears.
The sense of time becomes distorted.
The activity becomes autotelic.

The notion of the autotelic experience was not new: post T.S. Eliot and the status
of poetry, it was appropriated by postmodernists to describe the self referential nature
of a text. What is new here is the construction of a model claiming that autotelic
162 Self regulated learning

experience or flow takes place when opportunities for action are in balance with
the person’s skills; it is also suggested that boredom will result if skills are high and
challenge low, and conversely that anxiety will result if skills are low and challenge
is high (Csikszentmihalyi, 1975).
Given its widespread use in educational models of creativity, it is a very
interesting and informative exercise to explore the nature of the research evidence
that supports this construct, as did Thomas (2011). In fact, as she notes, details of
the research are scant. The first phase of the original study appears to be informal.
An eclectic group of “people in as many autotelic activities as possible”
(Csikszentmihalyi, 1975, p. 10), all of which happened to be sporting activities,
were interviewed, and from these data came “The Flow Questionnaire”. Clearly
at this stage there was already a delineation of the flow experience. In the second
phase, the flow questionnaire was used to collect self reporting data from another
group of participants involved in “autotelic activities”, although the inclusion of
professional people here should be questioned, as must be the restriction of these
activities to chess, dancers, music composers and sport. There is no indication given
of how these data were analysed; equally, there is no clear connection established
between the subjective experiences of flow and the ratio of skill to challenge.
Nevertheless, from this second phase the theory of flow was constructed.
Csikszentmihalyi (1975, p. 12) admitted:

The methodology of this report is not as neat and consistent as one would
expect from an experimental study. . . . [The model is] admittedly just another
as-if construct that cannot do justice to the phenomenon studied . . . however
as long as we remember that we are talking about a model and not the real
thing not much harm will be done.

In an attempt to avoid the limitations of data collected from a self reporting

questionnaire, in later studies a strategy called “experience sampling method” was
introduced. During the course of a week, each participant wore an electronic pager
and carried a booklet of “experience sample forms”, and, at randomly chosen times
each day, was prompted to fill out one of the self report forms. It is not clear how
this reduced or removed the issues related to self reporting questionnaires, and in
any case the experience sample form was still using the questionnaire developed
from the assumptions about flow used in the first study. Ironically, in several places
in Csikszentmihalyi and Csikszentmihalyi (1988) it is admitted that none of the
theoretical predictions regarding the balance of skills and challenge had been
confirmed. Subsequently, a “conceptual breakthrough” led to the suggestion that
flow occurs for an individual only when challenges and skills are both above a
certain level. Hence, the latest version of the flow model is now described as:
“People report the most positive experiences and the greatest intrinsic motivation
when they are operating in a situation of high opportunities for action (challenges)
and a high capacity to act (skills)” (Csikszentmihalyi & Wolfe, 2000, p. 88; see
also Figure 7.2).
 Self regulated learning 163

FIGURE 7.2 An octothorpe model illustrating Massimimi and Carli’s (1988)

relationship between skill level, challenge level and flow.
Source: illustration by Peter Merrotsy.

It is interesting to note that Thomas (2011) conducted a comprehensive search,

using every available database search engine, and was unable to locate any
independent research on the existence of flow. The closest find was one Australian
study that correlated data from two previous studies on “zone” experiences to eight
qualities of the flow experience. The study concluded that “the zone or flow state
is a universal phenomenon across sports” (Young & Pain, 1999, p. 21). Similarly,
Thomas (2011) was unable to locate any research confirming the relationship
between the flow model’s parameters of challenge and skills in educational settings,
although there is a study, given previous assumptions about flow, that measures
the flow experience related to consumer search and purchase behaviour in the early
days of the world wide web (Novak & Hoffman, 1997), perhaps a very good time
to be conscious of what one is doing.

Children, adolescents and flow

In the case of talented adolescents, Csikszentmihalyi, Rathunde and Whalen (1997,
p. 3) claimed that not only does flow theory attempt to explain and qualify the
subjective experience of intrinsic motivation, but also that “when both personal
skill level and challenge level are correspondingly high, adolescents experience a
state of flow that allows for optimal learning.” Disciples of Vygotsky will tell us,
164 Self regulated learning

quite reasonably it would seem, that effective pedagogy targets a zone in which
problems exceed the level already mastered, but by not too far. If the work is too
easy, the student becomes bored; if the work is too hard, the student does not
understand. Therefore, as Chaffey (2005a, p. 23) points out, the match of challenges
and skills that are necessary conditions for Vygotsky’s zone of proximal development
(ZPD – see Chapter 5) and Csikszentmihalyi’s flow are very similar.
One example in which this match between skills and challenges is sought is in
the development of curriculum for gifted and talented students. However, there
appears to be actually very little in the way of formal, controlled research avail-
able in the area of curriculum differentiation for the gifted (well, at least in the case
of secondary education – vide Merrotsy, 2007b). At the same time, the flow model
does seem to fit so well with Vygotsky’s ZPD and with motivation theory, and
it does seem to be so easy to understand, a consequence perhaps of it being com-
monly portrayed by a simple diagram in which only the “three channels” of
boredom, anxiety and flow are indicated. Perhaps this is why the validity of the
construct of flow has been so widely accepted, so much so that it has become
“a technical term in the field of intrinsic motivation” (Csikszentmihalyi &
Csikszentmihalyi, 1988, p. 3).
In another example, my colleague Chaffey (2005b) claimed that flow theory
has an important role to play in the metacognitive intervention stage of his
Coolabah Dynamic Assessment (CDA) model, which has been successfully used
to identify “invisible” gifted students. The idea is that if working in a state of flow
can be attained and maintained, then the ensuing intrinsic rewards will maximise
the chance of achieving mastery, which enhances academic self-efficacy, which in
turn optimises the conditions for the emergence of cognitive ability, or at least the
expression of it. That is, Chaffey (2005b, p. 13) saw flow as a way to understand
the dynamics of cognitive engagement and of cognitive growth: “The idea is to
help students achieve flow and be in Vygotsky’s zone of proximal development.
Numerous strategies provide meta-cognitive pathways and self-efficacy enhance-
ment as well as cognitive engagement in the flow zone.”
In an interview with Thomas (2011, p. 35), Chaffey stated that, as self-efficacy
is a characteristic of flow, when “we target self-efficacy, we get flow”. Intervention
strategies that are used to encourage self-efficacy appear to target social and
emotional blocks to engagement as well as increase metacognitive skills that are
needed to achieve mastery. If the person administering Chaffey’s CDA ensures
that the student continually masters the progressively more difficult problems, then
fear of participating and resistance to engagement will disappear, and the
“characteristics of flow” will start to emerge. These characteristics include “the
absence of anxiety and persistent, resilient engagement along with a sense of
timelessness,” and the harder tasks are experienced as if they involve less effort.
Chaffey’s observation or opinion was that “individual cognitive mastery only occurs
when the individual child is responsible for all the cognitive processing, and that
this condition, in his view, is the heart of the flow experience for the child, at
least in the cognitive domain” (Thomas, 2011, p. 35). Drawing on her own
 Self regulated learning 165

experiences as a poet and teacher, Thomas (2011) suggests that establishing the
conditions for attaining a state of flow in the classroom involves more determining
factors than just achieving a balance of skills and challenge, in particular for gifted
students who are underachieving. For these students, at the very least: “The
construction of learning environments and the implementation of pedagogical
strategies must take into account the multi-dimensional nature of Chaffey’s [work],
and the need for student ownership of each part of the cognitive processes involved
in learning” (Thomas, 2011, p. 35).

Goal orientation
Although high levels of motivation are perceived to be related to the development
of talent (in Gagné’s sense of the term), the actual nature of this relationship, that
is, the extent to which one influences or is influenced by the other, is in fact not
at all clear. Goal orientation theory, or achievement goal theory, proposes that
there are particular reasons or goal orientations why people achieve to the extent
that they do, and that the various goals are served by different cognitive processes
and thus result in different learning outcomes. Goal orientation refers not to the
content of academic achievement but rather to the reasons why students are
motivated to succeed academically. It is reasonably suggested (see, for example,
Dowson & McInerney, 2003) that three goals play significant roles in the academic
motivation of students: mastery goals, performance goals and social goals. Along
with their corresponding cognitive processes and outcomes, four types of goal states
have been described: two types of mastery goals (mastery avoidance and mastery
approach), and two types of performance goals (performance approach and
performance avoidance). The adoption (if that is the right word) of different types
of goal orientation tends to indicate how students will interpret academic events,
and hence goal orientation is believed to predict the various affective, behavioural
and cognitive outcomes (Dweck, 2006).
What the research then focuses on, and this is where the debates begin, is the
relationship between goals and cognitive performance. The received wisdom,
according to Dweck (2006), is that students who pursue mastery goals tend to
perceive the purpose of learning to be the development of skills, and the acquisition
and comprehension of knowledge. These students tend to focus on personal
development and personal improvement. Mastery goals tend to be associated with
adaptive outcomes, in particular higher self-efficacy and the related characteristics
of a more positive attitude towards learning, the application of a greater and more
complex range of learning strategies, and greater persistence when faced with
challenges. On the other hand, students who pursue performance goals tend to
perceive the purpose of learning to be the demonstration of their intellectual ability
to others. These students tend not to focus on learning as an aim in itself, but to
focus more on the evaluation of their performance, with the aim of gaining positive
judgment of their ability and avoiding negative judgment of their ability, not
necessarily in that order. Performance goals tend to be associated with maladaptive
166 Self regulated learning

outcomes, in particular a negative attitude towards learning, the use of surface

learning rather than deep learning strategies, and lack of engagement and withdrawal
when faced with challenge. For students who are low achievers, performance goals
are also associated with low self-efficacy.
The story that is now beginning to emerge is that the reality appears to be far
more complex than what this received wisdom would tell us. At the very least
there is a substantial interaction between performance goals and mastery goals
(Harder, Stöger & Ziegler, 2010). For example, the negative impact of performance
goals is not assured; performance goals can be associated with high self-efficacy
and its related positive effects and positive affects (Cheng & Phillipson, 2013).
A more robust model that takes such findings into account incorporates within
the mastery and performance goals framework the distinction between approach
and avoidance.
First, “students who pursue mastery approach goals seek to increase under-
standing of learning materials while students who pursue mastery-avoidance goals
seek to avoid misunderstanding or failure in learning” (Cheng & Phillipson, 2013,
p. 117). Here it should be carefully noted that the cognitive processes related to
mastery-avoidance goal orientations are least understood, although they do seem
to be related to disorganised study patterns and negative affect such as test anxiety
and worry.
Second, “students who pursue performance-approach goals focus on achieving
success and demonstrating high ability while students who pursue performance-
avoidance goals focus on avoiding failure or looking dumb in front of others”
(Cheng & Phillipson, 2013, p. 116). The outcomes for students with performance-
avoidance goals tend to be negative, including low self-efficacy, anxiety, avoidance
of help seeking, self handicapping strategies, and low academic grades. The
outcomes for students with performance-approach goals tend to be varied. Cheng
and Phillipson (2013) reported that pursuing performance-approach goals could
have its benefits, such as high persistence, positive affect and high grades, as well
as its liabilities, such as anxiety, disruptive behaviour and low retention of
knowledge. A danger here of course is that, after experiencing failure or a lowering
of self esteem or self-efficacy, a student will transform from performance-approach
to performance-avoidance goals.
Although mastery and performance goals appear to be contrasting in the goal
orientation framework, it is possible for a student to hold both goals simultaneously,
depending on the circumstances, the environment and the context. It is even
suggested (by Cheng & Phillipson, 2013, for example) that the simultaneous
adoption of both types of approach goals could be more adaptive than the adoption
of a single goal.
Third, Dowson and McInerney (2003) show that, as well as mastery goals and
performance goals, students tend to pursue social goals for engaging, or not
engaging, in academic work. Social goals can include social affiliation goals, social
approval goals, social solidarity goals, social status goals, social responsibility goals,
social concern goals and social welfare goals: each of these can be affirmative (e.g.
 Self regulated learning 167

the reason to study is to gain the approval of parents or teachers) or negative (e.g.
the reason not to study is to gain the approval of a particular peer group). Clearly,
social goals can be in conflict with mastery goals and performance goals, which
can have an enormous negative impact on student motivation.
Given that students usually hold multiple goals, some of which can be in conflict,
attention should be given to bring the goals into harmony with one another so
that student motivation can be optimised. This can be achieved by strategically
shifting focus between the various goals to suit the academic circumstances,
environment and context. For example, it is possible to pursue mastery goals to
achieve deep learning in a subject area, and at the same time to pursue performance
goals in order to gain entry into a particular university programme (Cheng &
Phillipson, 2013).
In another approach, it is possible to believe in the modifiability of deficits,
which will result in positive goal orientations, and at the same time in the stability
of abilities, which will result in high self-efficacy, increased task enjoyment and
greater persistence (Harder et al., 2010). The consequences for the teacher include
the need for precise student observation and a better understanding of each
student’s motivation, increased student autonomy in the classroom, the provision
of appropriate challenges with problem solving strategies modelled for the students
and the challenge broken into subtasks without reducing its complexity, and mistakes
being used constructively.

The autonomous learner

Autonomous learning refers to one aspect of self regulated learning, in which
learners take responsibility for their own learning. Central to the idea of autonomy
is freedom of choice. Autonomous learning focuses on each student’s ability to act
independently and attitude towards taking responsibility for the learning process,
both of which necessarily involve metacognition, strategic competence, reflection,
choice and decision making. The autonomous learner, to various extents, is
involved in creating a learning plan, finding resources that support learning, and
self regulation. Full autonomy, for example, would involve the learner in all planning
and implementation decisions to the extent that the learner determines study goals,
how these goals will be accomplished, what will be learned along the way, and
how progress or achievement will be evaluated or assessed. However, autonomous
learning, even with full autonomy, does not simply imply independence, but rather
an interdependence between the learner and the teacher.
The Autonomous Learner Model (ALM) first appeared in 1980 (Betts & Knapp,
1980), or perhaps it was 1981 (cf. Betts, 2003), although in 2012 the ALM Facebook
page claimed it was then in its thirty-fifth year. The ALM has gone through several
amendments or revisions: there are claims that the model was evaluated and revised
in 1996 to “better meet the diversified needs of the gifted and talented” (Betts,
2003, p. 39); however, the revision (in my eyes) appears to be cosmetic, the evidence
of an evaluation is not apparent in the literature, and it is not always clear whether
168 Self regulated learning

the model is for gifted learners as stated or for general pedagogy. The ALM was
designed to be implemented over three years, to a depth, depending on
development, of Awareness, Introduction, Development, or Application, for Years
K–12. It is a holistic model, in the sense that it emphasises emotional, social and
cognitive development of the individual. The guiding principles lying behind the
model are drawn from an eclectic range of sources: even post-2001 and the revision
by Anderson, Krathwohl, Airasian, Cruikshank, Mayer, Pintrich, Raths and
Wittrock, the older version of Bloom’s Taxonomy is still used as a basis for teaching
thinking skills; a major unit of the programme is the Night of the Notables, which
seems, since Williams (1989), to have taken on a life all of its own (see, for example,
Smith, 2011).
In an unusual and unreferenced article in Roeper Review, Betts (2004) provided
a conceptual framework for fostering autonomous learning through three levels of
curriculum differentiation: prescribed curriculum and instruction; teacher
differentiated curriculum, in which instructional approaches are designed by the
teacher, and students have choice in the learning process; and learner differentiated
curriculum, in which learners engage in independent and self directed curriculum
modified according to interest and ability, and the teacher is responsible for the
development of the skills necessary to be successful at this level. Here it should be
noted that the third level maps quite well onto the explorations, investigations and
in-depth studies components of the ALM.
According to Betts and Knapp (1980, p. 29), “An autonomous learner is one
who solves problems or develops new ideas through a combination of divergent
and convergent thinking and functions with minimal external guidance in selected
areas of endeavor.” The ALM has five dimensions (Betts, 1992, 2003, 2004; Betts
& Kercher, 1999; Betts & Knapp, 1980):

Orientation – understanding giftedness, group building activities, self under-

standing, opportunities and responsibilities related to giftedness.
Individual development – development of learning skills, personal under-
standing, interpersonal skills, career involvement.
Enrichment activities – explorations, investigations, cultural activities, service
learning, adventure trips.
Seminars – opportunities to exchange ideas and viewpoints with other students.
In-depth study – individual projects, group projects and mentorships, with
formal presentations and evaluation of student products by peers or experts in
the field of study.

Using all of the database search engines in my university’s library, I have not been
able to locate any research evidence concerning the effectiveness of the ALM for
student learning. I did manage to find one brief article that uncritically “reviewed”
the “history of self directed learning” and the ALM (Betts & Neihart, 1986, which
can hardly be described as being independent). Betts and Neihart (1986, p. 177)
 Self regulated learning 169

also outlined some guidelines for developing a process based scope and sequence
when implementing curriculum for self directed learning, with perhaps the
most apropos advice emphasising that the gifted should be included in the decision
making process about their own curriculum, and that “the process of becoming
self directed takes time, patience, opportunities and guidance.” Nevertheless, the
ALM is widely recognised and used, and there appears to be anecdotal evidence
on positive aspects of its implementation: for example, even though it does not
incorporate any features of acceleration, it has been applied in Australia in order
to facilitate academic acceleration in a small, rural, comprehensive high school
(Merrotsy, 2002).
Four components of the ALM stand out in my mind. First, the orientation dimen-
sion is clearly very important for personal understanding and development, yet it
is evidently missing from most programmes and models in “gifted education”.
Second, Night of the Notables, whether set within the framework of the ALM
or within some other model of enrichment, appears to be supported by a huge
body of anecdotal evidence reporting satisfaction and pleasure from students,
parents, teachers and school administrators. Smith (1994) carried out a “validation”
of the programme: he used the standard “gifted education” literature at the time
to demonstrate that it met many of the learning and special needs of gifted
students; he used Tannenbaum’s (1983, p. 443) “ten aims for gifted programming”
to rate it at “73%” (sic). Smith (1994) also conducted a formal evaluation of the
programme in a controlled mixed methods research study, although unfortunately
the quantitative data were drawn from self reporting questionnaires. He found that
the experimental group “perceived” an improved level of academic skills and that
there were small but significant gains in self esteem. In hindsight, Smith (personal
communication, 17 February 2012) believes that at least some of the cognitive and
affective gains were due to the Hawthorn effect, because the programme does focus
on raising self esteem and does appear to be enjoyed by the participants.
Third, service, comprising the study of humanitarianism as well as service to
others, offers opportunities that should be profound, challenging and life changing,
and that will sensitise students to social, moral and ethical issues (for more on service
learning, see Chapter 6).
Fourth, even though the duty-of-care and other legal considerations might at
first appear to be insurmountable, the anecdotal evidence supporting the high
positive impact on personal development and strong long-term effects of adventure
and wilderness trips suggests that the efforts to overcome the difficulties are more
than worthwhile. It is not so much that students are involved in planning, parti-
cipating in and assessing the experience (Betts, 1992), but that the students are also
physically and mentally immersed in a challenging experience that stimulates all of
the body’s senses and is as close as possible to holistic learning. These experiences
can be very intense, and for many students can prove to be a focal point and highlight
of their school education. Hence I would argue (as I do in Merrotsy, in preparation)
that adventure and wilderness trips are an essential component of curriculum for
gifted students and of good programs in creative problem solving.
170 Self regulated learning

Self regulated learning

Clearly the school and classroom environment plays a huge role in determining
how and what students learn; at the same time, students play a huge role in shaping
and controlling their internal learning environment and hence in shaping and
controlling their own learning. This ability to shape and control the (learning)
environment, to intentionally plan, control and reflect on actions, is seen by Bandura
(1997) to be the essence of what makes us human. Self regulated learning theory
focuses on how this ability can be developed and applied in an educational setting,
because the ability to self regulate seems to be central to managing resources,
learning, decision making, conceptual change, motivation, volition, and problem
solving.
Self regulated learning is defined to be the ability of students to take responsibility
for their own learning by controlling the factors and conditions that affect their
learning. It is seen to be a proactive process by which students systematically organise
and manage their thoughts, emotions, behaviour and environment in order to
achieve particular academic goals. Hence, self regulated learning refers to the way
in which:

learners, based on an assessment of their own learning, repeatedly work through

cycles of learning, during which they state and set their learning goals, plan
and go about their learning in terms of clear learning objectives, strategically
monitor their learning, reflectively refine and adjust their learning if necessary,
adapt what they have learnt, and evaluate the results of their learning.
(Ziegler & Stöger, 2005, p. 30, my translation; cf. Stöger & Ziegler,
2008b; Zimmerman, 2002, 2008)

That is, self regulated learning is far more than just using learning strategies: rather,
it refers to the regulation of learning strategies as simply a part of a learning process
that involves the regulation of one’s own cognitive beliefs and affective states, the
self regulation of overt behaviours, and the self regulation of the internal or
psychological learning environment (motivation and volition) and the manipulation
and management of the external (physical and social) learning environment.
According to Ziegler, Stöger and Grassinger (2011), there are three main frame-
works for understanding self regulated learning: two focus on the individual
learner, either in a component oriented approach or a process oriented approach;
the other focuses on environmental factors that accompany the learning process.
First, the component oriented approach focuses on self regulated learning strategies,
such as cognitive learning strategies (for example, memorisation, elaboration and
organisation); on metacognitive strategies (for example, planning, self monitoring
and self evaluation); and the management of internal resources (for example, motiv-
ation, volition and emotions) and external resources (for example, getting help)
(cf. Boekaerts & Corno, 2005). Second, the process oriented approach focuses on
the coordination and regulation of the various strategies and components of self
regulated learning in each phase of the learning process: the learning process is
 Self regulated learning 171

conceptualised in recursive learning cycles, and the strategies and components are
but steps within these cycles (cf. Klug, Ogrin, Keller, Ihringer & Schmitz, 2011).
Third, the environmental approach focuses on skills that serve to adapt the external
environment of the learner, such as the behaviour of peers, relationships with peers
and teachers, and the home and private study environment. The more robust models
of self regulated learning appear to be those that view the relationship of learner
and environment as one of mutual adaptation (Zimmerman, 2008), especially if it
is set within a strong educational conceptual framework, as do Ziegler et al. (2011)
with respect to Ziegler’s (2005) systemic actiotope model.
Models of self regulated learning share four key components:

cognitive – intentionally taking control of learning processes and learning

products, learning strategies to understand and remember information, per-
formance and attributional feedback;
motivational – self motivation, commitment to learning goals, task value, feed-
back, taking responsibility for successes and failures, development of self-efficacy
resulting in increased effort and persistence;
metacognitive – intentionally planning, taking cognitive responsibility, setting
goals, self monitoring, evaluating, feedback, self reflection, adaptation and
regulation;
behavioural – balancing teacher and student control, help-seeking, creating a
positive learning environment for study, internal and external feedback.
(Hadwin, 2008; Stöger & Ziegler, 2008a, 2008b; Ziegler et al.,
2011; Ziegler & Stöger, 2005; Zimmerman, 2002, 2008)

Zimmerman (2008), for example, sees these components in a cyclical model com-
prising three phases: a forethought phase involving motives to self regulate,
especially self-efficacy beliefs; a performance phase, in which strategic processes
and self recorded outcomes become causally linked to outcome attributions and
feelings of satisfaction in the self reflection phase; and a self reflection phase. These
phases of self regulation comprise the following sub-processes:

Forethought phase
Task analysis – goal setting, strategic planning
Self motivation beliefs – self-efficacy, outcome expectations, task interest
and task value, goal orientation
Performance phase
Self control – self instruction, imagery, attention focusing, task strategies
Self observation – metacognitive monitoring, self recording
Self reflection phase
Self judgement – self evaluation, causal attribution
Self reaction – self satisfaction and other affects, adaptive reactions and
defensive reactions.
(Zimmerman, 2008)
172 Self regulated learning

Self regulated learning is characterised by introspection, planning, self observation

or self monitoring, self judgement or self evaluation of performance, and self reaction
to performance outcomes (Ziegler et al., 2011; Zimmerman, 2002, 2008). Hence,
self regulated learning in schools or in the classroom works under the assumption
that students who self regulate their learning are able to set their own goals, are
actively engaged in learning and constructing knowledge and meaning, are able
to adapt their thoughts, feelings, and behaviours in order to affect learning and
motivation, and are able to use given standards or create their own to direct their
learning (Boekaerts & Corno, 2005). Self regulated learning interventions can appear
in three guises: cognitive behaviour modification programs that suppress, retrain
or replace unproductive or maladaptive thinking; programs that directly teach or
promote self regulation skills and strategies; and so-called second generation
programs, based on principles of social constructivism, that change the classroom
milieu, offer “apprenticeships” in activities that develop subject matter expertise,
and supporting self regulated learning as it develops within computer mediated,
collaborative learning environments.
The common elements of the teaching models of self regulated learning include:
direct teaching of strategies, teacher or peer modelling of strategies and behaviours,
guided practice and independent practice using strategies, feedback, the
development of self observation and self monitoring, scaffolding or social support
from teachers and from peers, the gradual withdrawal of this scaffolding as the student
develops competency, and the development of self reflective practice or
metacognitive discussion. The strategies or activities will develop skills and give
practice in goal setting, planning, selecting and using appropriate learning strategies,
having control over encoding, exercising parsimony in information processing,
maintaining selective attention, controlling motivation, maintaining motivation,
controlling emotions, controlling the learning environment, inhibiting distractions,
using strategies to complete homework, monitoring performance, regulating
performance, maintaining effort and persistence in completing difficult tasks, time
management, self reflecting on performance, self evaluation, repeatedly reflecting
on learning outcomes, and delaying gratification (Boekaerts & Corno, 2005;
Ziegler, Stöger & Grassinger, 2011; Zimmerman, 2002, 2008).
It is important to note that self regulatory behaviours develop gradually, with
repeated practice, over a lengthy period of time. As such, self regulated learning
does require the student to make a considerable amount of effort and commitment
(Ziegler, Stöger & Grassinger, 2011).
One criticism of models of self regulated learning is that students with divergent
work habits and divergent regulation styles (whatever those terms might mean!)
do not fit the pattern of a self regulated learner, and are therefore at a considerable
disadvantage learning in a self regulated learning environment (Boekaerts & Corno,
2005). Another criticism is that they tend to ignore interactions between
achievement goals and other conflicting goals that students often have a predilection
to pursue in classrooms, such as belonging, social interaction, social support,
entertainment, and self determination goals. The translation of a theoretical model
 Self regulated learning 173

into classroom praxis thus has to manage the individual, developmental, biological
and contextual differences – the “action spaces” or actiotopes in Ziegler’s (2005)
actiotope model – that comprise the reality of the classroom teaching and learning
environment (Ziegler et al., 2011).
The general framework for self regulated learning has considerable theoretical
support. Research evidence is strong for many programmes, or at least components
of models, used to support adult learning, in particular medical students and in
some of the more successful diet programmes where success is measured by long-
term effects (see, for example, Nückles, Hübner, Dümer & Renkl, 2010; Nückles,
Hübner & Renkl, 2009). However, there is a decided lack of formal evaluations
of programmes implementing self regulated learning in classroom settings. The
evidence seems to suggest, or at least there is a consensus in the literature, that,
even though there is a correlation between ability and development of self regulated
learning skills, all students can be trained to develop self regulation skills. A recent
meta-analytical investigation of interventions applying various components of self
regulated learning, covering more than 80 studies, found that the potential effects
were high (effect size ~ 0.7), noting that effects were highest in the subject of
Mathematics and when the intervention was conducted by a researcher rather than
the regular teacher (Dignath & Büttner, 2008; Dignath, Büttner & Langfeldt, 2008).
The authors of the meta-analytical study concluded that self regulated learning skills
could be effectively fostered in primary and secondary students, but warned that
significant differences in outcomes arose from the type of instruction strategy used
and from the theoretical framework on which the programme is based. Hence, it
appears to be a tad premature yet to conclude that self regulated learning
significantly enhances student academic achievement. Nevertheless, depending on
the model used and the way in which the teacher implements this model, it is
possible to conclude that self regulated learning is teachable to learners of different
ages and can improve at least academic performance (Dignath & Büttner, 2008;
Dignath et al., 2008), and can probably improve motivation (Ziegler et al., 2011).
Again, given the positive results arising from applications of self regulated learning
programs with high ability tertiary level medical students, for example, one might
presume that similar programs will translate directly to applications with talented
students and perhaps even with gifted students (in Gagné’s senses of these terms).
However, due to the lack of comparative studies exploring optimal self regulated
learning training among gifted and talented students, such translation should still
be approached with caution. For example, in two studies involving tertiary level
students, Nückles et al. (2009) found cognitive and metacognitive prompting to
be beneficial in a single journal writing event, whereas Nückles et al. (2010) found
that over-prompting and prompting over an extended period of time led to an
expertise reversal effect (initial improvement in motivation and learning outcomes
turned into lower performance). A ramification of this is that, for gifted learners
who are characterised by the ability to learn quickly often accompanied by higher
levels of self regulatory skills, prompting could rapidly become over-prompting
with possible associated negative effects. This highlights the need to consider the
174 Self regulated learning

gradual and adaptive fading out of the prompts and reducing scaffolding as students
gain mastery.
Andrade and Bunker (2009) provided an example of a model for self regulated
learning applied in a distance education “classroom” context. The model is based
on a critical analysis and synthesis of the literature on autonomy and self regulation,
and discusses at length the impact these two broad concepts have on course design.
The model has six components: why, how, when, where, with whom, and what
(motive, method, time, physical environment, social environment, performance).
A second example, which has stood the test of time and is capable at the least
of meeting high theoretical demands, was developed by Zimmerman, Bonner &
Kovach (1996) and subsequently refined by Zimmerman (2002, 2008).
Unfortunately, I am unable to find any publication presenting the findings of
a formal research study on this model, apart from an evaluation by Stöger and
Ziegler (2008b) on its effectiveness in improving self regulation in time manage-
ment tasks during homework activities. The Zimmerman et al. (1996) approach
is a cyclic teaching model for self regulated learning, and it is relatively easy to
implement because it can be embedded in regular classroom programming and in
homework tasks. The model incorporates the components perceived to be most
important in self regulation (self evaluation, goal setting, strategic planning,
monitoring, and so on), and comprises five modules: time management, compre-
hension and summarisation skills, note taking, test preparation skills, and writing
skills. Each of the five modules is programmed to run over five weeks, during
which the students work through four cyclical steps a total of four times: self
evaluation and monitoring, goal setting and strategic planning, strategy imple-
mentation and monitoring, and strategic outcome monitoring. The training
involves activities aimed at increasing self regulatory skills, and each day there are
achievement measures, systematic feedback and measures also aimed at increasing
self regulatory skills. Previous performance and mastery are both used as evaluation
criteria. Because of the cyclical repetition of the self regulated learning processes,
students subject their self regulation processes to constant monitoring, improvement
and practice.
A third example, building on the work of Zimmerman and, in my opinion,
the strongest teaching model for self regulated learning, has been developed by
Stöger and her colleagues (Stöger, Sontag & Ziegler, 2009; Stöger & Ziegler, 2008a;
Ziegler & Stöger, 2005). This model is certainly capable of meeting very high
theoretical demands, and is supported by a growing body of formal research on its
effectiveness in a range of school and classroom contexts. But, alas, apparently there
has not yet been a comparative study measuring its effectiveness against other models
for self regulated learning. Stöger et al. (2009) describe the self regulated learning
process in six cyclical steps:

1 self assessment in terms of the subject content to be learned, the degree of

difficulty of the tasks, and the student’s skills and competency;
2 setting a reasonable learning objective;
 Self regulated learning 175

3 strategic planning, for which knowledge of strategies is necessary;

4 applying the strategy to the subject content matter and learning material, for
which training in the strategy is necessary;
5 monitoring the strategy: adjust or adapt the strategy, and return to the previous
step if necessary;
6 evaluating the performance.

Although the concept of self regulated learning has been around for some 25 years,
the process appears to be little known and even less used in schooling contexts.
To be sure, some of the learning and self regulatory strategies are used here and
there, but usually not systematically and not set within a robust cyclical training
or developmental model, which appears necessary for optimal learning.

Concluding remarks
Over 120 years ago, in an oft mis-quoted quotation, Dewey reflects on what he
would say if he were asked to isolate the most needed reform in the spirit of
education. He answered his rhetorical question thus:

Cease conceiving of education as mere preparation for later life, and make
it the full meaning of the present life.
(Dewey, 1893, p. 660)

This sense of education-for-life apropos self realisation, which for Dewey was a
moral ideal, provides a fitting catch-cry encapsulating what we have discussed in
this chapter. The PEEL model highlighted the importance of learning-how-to-
learn. The teaching and learning models shifted the pedagogical gaze from
worrying, which we should, about quality teaching, which I take to mean the quality
of teaching and the teaching of quality, to focusing on an understanding and
appreciation of the quality of student learning. The concept of self regulated learning
completes the vision of how a classroom environment may be transformed so that
the internal environment of the student will allow, will encourage, will support,
the growth of autonomy, and independence, and the volition to learn, the will
and the lust to learn.
For those wishing to dwell further on these and related ideas, I recommend
pursuing the following issues: students with very high levels of interest; passion,
including harmonious passion and obsessive passion; “powerful learning environ-
ments” (discussion based approaches with computer mediated programs as
enhancements); teachers as partners in research; and self discipline. For example,
Duckworth and Seligman (2005) provided the background research on the
importance of delayed gratification by using questionnaires and children receiving
two dollars so long as they could resist spending a dollar as a measure of self control.
They concluded that this measure of self discipline was a better predictor of later
academic performance than measures of IQ. Many hilarious “replications” of this
176 Self regulated learning

experiment can be located on YouTube (enter “delayed gratification marshmallow

test” in the search window).
However, for those who see that we are now at the end of the penultimate
chapter, it is time to move on, to draw together all of the key ideas explored so
far, and to present a model of teaching and learning related to, directed towards,
creative problem solving and finding a medium through which this ability may be
expressed.

∞
8
MIDDLE C

Teaching is not a science, but an art.

(Pólya, 1963, p. 606)

In this chapter we will:

• present a model of pedagogy for creative problem solving;

• outline Pólya’s heuristic;
• experience the joy of problem solving.

Introductory remarks
If you were not aware of it before reading this book, you will now fully appreciate
that creativity is rather a complex construct, a point succinctly made by Runco
(2007, p. 320):

Creativity is a reflection of cognition, metacognition, attitude, motivation,

affect, disposition, and temperament.

Similarly, the expression of creativity through creative problem solving is also quite
complex, and certainly so too is pedagogy related to creative problem solving. In
this chapter, we will focus on pedagogy specifically for creative problem solving.
From the key ideas presented in the preceding chapters, we will build a model
that will provide a rich and robust conceptual framework for a teacher to approach
all matters of “creative problem solving” with the strongest theoretical support
available.
Given that there are existing models for teaching creativity and problem solving
and creative problem solving, it would be natural to ask, “Why is yet another model
178 Middle C

needed?” I would argue the case as follows. In Chapter 3, we had a brief look at
models of creative problem solving that are widely used in several educational
contexts. The steps in these models are presented to students to learn and to follow
when attempting to solve problems, usually in a classroom setting. The steps are
presented in a linear way, but, in all fairness to the models, the steps should be
applied in a “cyclical” (perhaps “iterative” would be a better word) way, and there
is certainly recognition that solving problems usually does not happen in a linear
fashion. In any case, what I think is missing from the models, and implicit in my
polemic in analysing and discussing them, is a clear indication of the role of the
teacher.
That is, I would argue that a model of creative problem solving for school students
must be set within an appropriate pedagogical framework. Such a framework must
take into account how children and adolescents learn, and must equip them to
express themselves and solve problems in all aspects of their lives. And such a
framework must acknowledge the knowledge and skills of the professional teacher,
and his or her leadership role in curriculum development and implementation, in
assessment and evaluation of student learning, and in providing a safe and
comfortable yet challenging learning environment. As Pólya says, above, “Teaching
is an art.”
What actually, then, what exactly, is the role of the teacher? Well, we do know
from our discussion in Chapter 5 of Vygotsky’s notion of the Zone of Proximal
Development that this safe and comfortable yet challenging learning environment
needs to provide just the right amount and level of challenge: students learn best
when they are approaching concepts and problems that are beyond their current
knowledge and beyond their current ability to solve, but not too far beyond.
However, we also know that students bridge this gap neither by themselves nor
with the help of peers; rather, they are scaffolded across this gap by the direct support
of a teacher. That is, it is not enough and it is by no means appropriate for a teacher
to give his or her students a set of step-by-step instructions for solving problems,
a list of six or eight stages of a How-To approach to solving problems. For the
students to learn, the teacher’s responsibility and job is to actively teach. The
professional teacher is therefore a necessary active component of a model of teaching
for creative problem solving for children and youth.
In response to this perceived problem, I have developed a model for teachers
to express their art, to develop and implement a pedagogy for creative problem
solving. I call this model Middle C. I have used this name since the early 1990s,
when I first met the concepts of Big C and little c creativity and when I was applying
the first faltering steps of this model with my student Albert, whom you can meet
in Merrotsy (2004). Over the intervening years Middle C has continued to resonate
with what I was trying to achieve pedagogically, and it always seems to strike a
chord somewhere in the middle of culture, cognition, constructivism and creativity.
Middle C is presented as a model, and it should be treated as such: it is a conceptual
framework, a structure, under the aegis of which pedagogy for creative problem
solving may find a good home. As a model, it will need massaging by each teacher
 Middle C 179

who wishes to apply it (and this will take work). And as a model, it is not the final
story on this matter, for it will be subject to the slings and arrows of current critique
and future research in each of the fields that informs it, whether or not that critique
or research be outrageous Fortune (with apologies to Hamlet, but every piece of
serious academic writing does need to cite The Bard).

Middle C: supporting evidence

It would be fair to say that in the preceding chapters my analysis of the research
support for many of the teaching practices in creative problem solving has found
it to be lacking. Therefore it is natural to ask about the nature of the evidence
concerning the appropriateness and effectiveness of Middle C. I would suggest that
there are five good, plausible grounds for saying that Middle C is at least as robust
as other models (I will leave it to less subjective observers to comment on the
extent, if any, to which it may be a “more successful model”, whatever that term
might mean).
First, each of the elements of Middle C either meets strong theoretical demands,
or enjoys growing support from formal, well-designed research.
Second, the development and implementation of the initial creative problem
solving model, which grew into Middle C, began as a series of exploratory cycles,
with each step informing the next: reconnaissance, hypothesis, identification of
strategies, implementation (hypothesis tested in practice), evaluation, and further
development. How successful was the model at this stage? With only a small number
of high ability students involved in the particular creative problem solving
programme, it is difficult to say; nevertheless, while acknowledging that research
design with n = 1 is anecdotal method (Callaghan & Moon, 2007), it is still worth
noting that one of the students achieved the highest score in a nation-wide
academic (Mathematics) competition, which was quite a remarkable achievement
for a shy, young student from a small, relatively isolated rural community with
very low socio-economic status.
Third, the “success” of this one student in particular prompted me to formalise
the development of my creative problem solving model and the measures of its
effectiveness, which was achieved through action research. Action research is
grounded in understanding experiences through a process of planning, acting and
observing, and through “reflective practice” (Noffke & Somekh, 2005, p. 90) in
the sense that it involves a process of the collection and analysis of data that provides
the teacher with some objectivity and distance, looking at his or her practice from
another point of view. Action research methodology was chosen for this study
because it was the model promoted at the time by the state Department of
Education, and supported by in-school professional learning and by the provision
of a “critical friend”, who was an academic from the nearest university. This action
research took place over five successive years, and each year involved a secondary
(Years 8 to 10) multi-grade class with 30 students, a senior secondary class for low
achieving students with approximately 15 students, and an after school problem
180 Middle C

solving club for a small number of high ability students. The effectiveness of the
programme was measured in the junior high school in terms of improvement in
attitudes towards problem solving, the number of lower grade students who chose
this higher-grade unit (i.e. accelerated), and the performance of accelerated students
in this unit compared with their performance elsewhere, and in the senior high
school by the improved participation and retention rates of students.
Fourth, over a period of about ten years my creative problem solving model
was then implemented, in programmes over just one day up to a whole year, and
in a range of educational contexts: rural and urban; low socio-economic and “leafy
suburb” communities; primary, secondary and tertiary classes; and general ability
and selective classes. The outcomes and informal evaluations from these programmes
have informed the development of Middle C as it is presented here. Some of the
programmes were supported by formal evaluations, most of which were limited
by the small number of participants (due to the nature of the communities in which
the research was conducted), and by lack of control groups (because in most cases
there was simply no suitable group to use as a control). The effectiveness of these
programmes was measured by changes in self-efficacy towards problem solving,
by changes in the quality of student written work submitted for assessment, and
by analysis of verbal statements and written notes with metacognitive content. To
be sure, the positive findings from the various evaluations might have been due
to many things other than the implementation of the creative problem solving model
itself (for example, they may have arisen because a man with a funny title and an
unusual taste in neck-ties came and did fun things and got students out of doing
boring textbook stuff). Nevertheless, I would suggest that there is enough evidence
to say that the Middle C model is at least as good as other educational creative
problem solving models. Of course, more evidence from controlled studies would
be nice.
Fifth, with 14 elements, the Middle C model may appear complex, perhaps too
complex for practical application in the cut-and-thrust of the real-world classroom.
In one sense, a model that is able to do justice to teaching and learning related to
creative problem solving is by necessity complex, reflecting the complexity of
creativity itself (see the quote from Runco, 2007, above). In another sense, most
of the model’s elements refer to exactly the kinds of knowledge, abilities and skills
that are becoming expected of professional educators (Australian Institute for
Teaching and School Leadership, 2012). The other elements, which relate
specifically to creative problem solving (problem solving, creativity, creative
problem solving environment, and heuristics), are very important for, shall I say,
creative problem solving.

Middle C: creativity, cognition, constructivism, and culture

Middle C comprises 14 elements that are necessary (but, admittedly, that are
probably or certainly not sufficient) for a model of pedagogy for creative problem
solving.
 Middle C 181

Element one
Adopt a model in which all of your teaching related to creative problem solving
is set. Of course, I recommend Middle C.

Comment A model will serve as a guide for exploring, for making decisions,
and for maintaining consistency throughout the teaching and learning process.
Approach your adopted model (even Middle C) with healthy critical appraisal:
be prepared to question and challenge the nature of the evidence supporting
its structure; examine and evaluate its implementation and its outcomes (for
teacher and student alike); allow the model to grow with your teaching (or,
if you will, allow your teaching to grow with the model).

Element two
Culture is simply, deeply, utterly, completely (G. schlechthin) fundamental to crea-
tive problem solving: creative problem solving is an expression of culture; creative
problem solving is a cultural expression of creativity. Hence, become culturally
proficient.

Comment The culturally proficient teacher sees diversity as a benefit; honours

differences; interacts knowledgeably and respectfully with people from other
cultures; builds successful cultural partnerships within the school community
and with the broader school community; enjoys a holistic understanding and
appreciation of creative capacity; and removes barriers to authentic cultural
creative expression (Lamoureux, 2006; Lindsey et al., 2005).

Element three
Master the content knowledge of your subject area or field of teaching.

Comment Learning subject area content does not stop when we graduate
– life long learning is for teachers as well as for their students . . .

Here I see two interesting and serious problems for the teaching profession.
First, many university programmes do not include topics that are, that should
be considered, fundamental and essential to study in a particular subject area.
For example, many three-year undergraduate programmes in Mathematics
do not include even an introduction to Topology, Number Theory, Abstract
Algebra, Galois Theory, Logic, and the History of Mathematics. Second, in
some subject areas, a high proportion of secondary teachers either have
inadequate tertiary background in the subject that is being taught, or have
none. For example, even though the figures are quite tricky to track down,
in Australia, England and Ireland it would appear to be the case that about
182 Middle C

25 per cent of secondary teachers of Mathematics have completed two or

fewer units of tertiary Mathematics study, and another 25 per cent are teaching
out of field, or teaching across specialisations, in the sense that they are teachers
from other subject areas (Hobbs & Törner, 2014). The ramifications of this
second problem include a decline in secondary students undertaking higher
levels of study in Mathematics, a decline in tertiary students undertaking
studies in Mathematics, and a decline in appropriately qualified pre-service
teachers undertaking studies in Mathematics education, hence continuing the
cycle of a dearth of qualified teachers of Mathematics (Kennedy, Lyons &
Quinn, 2014).

Element four
Master the pedagogical content knowledge of your subject area or field of teaching.

Comment This not-so-new jargon from the 1980s refers to knowing the most
effective ways to teach students subject-specific knowledge and skills (Shulman,
1986); in the 1990s, “craft knowledge”, promoted by banausic academics, was
all the rage for artisan teachers (Grimmett & MacKinnon, 1992).

Note that teachers who are teaching out of field or teaching across
specialisations do not have formal education in pedagogical content
knowledge for the subject they are actually teaching, exacerbating the
problems for the teaching profession raised above in Element three.
Furthermore, due to teaching-how-one-was-taught, to poor quality teacher
education and professional learning programmes, to early career teachers
becoming inculturated or acculturated by existing and dominant teaching
practices, to perceived or real pressure from colleagues and parents to “get
through the syllabus”, and to curriculum being driven by external high stakes
assessment, the status quo in many subject areas appears to be transmission
teaching (personal observation, in many educational contexts in Asia,
Australia, Europe and North America). Transmission teaching means that
little is taught by the teacher, and that even less is learned by the student.

Element five
Understand the nature of a problem.

Comment Know lots and lots about problems and real world problems, in
general and within your subject area. Build a portfolio or repertoire of
problems within your subject area; keep up to date with problem solving
activities and competitions organised by your professional association or by
local and regional universities. Model creative problem solving; run a
lunchtime or after-school problem solving club for students; and include
 Middle C 183

problems and puzzles in your school newsletter. “Find” problems, in the

creative sense of finding them. Give your students experiences and skills that
will enable them to find problems. (See Chapter 1)

Element six
Understand the nature of creativity. Understand the relationship between creativity
and problem solving, and the expression of creativity through creative problem
solving. Adopt a model of creativity that is a suitable framework for understand-
ing personal creativity and the creativity of children and youth: mini-c creativity is
a wonderful way of conceiving of this.

Comment In Chapter 2, mini-c creativity was defined to be “the novel and

personally meaningful interpretation of experiences, actions, and events”
(Beghetto & Kaufman, 2007, p. 73). Mini-c creativity recognises the internal
environment of the student. It highlights the development of personal
knowledge and understanding and interpretations and insights within a
particular socio-cultural context, and explains the genesis of their subsequent
creative expression. It focuses on the creativity inherent in the learning process,
and is inextricably linked to transformative learning (Kaufman & Beghetto,
2009).

Practise and model creative expression. Recognise creativity, and acknow-

ledge and respond to it. Know the techniques and strategies of teaching related
to creative problem solving.

Element seven
Adopt a suitably complex model of intelligence. I would suggest that Flynn (2007,
2012) has more to offer here than other commentators on intelligence. Adopt a
robust model of high ability. I recommend Gagné’s (2008, 2009a) Differentiated
Model of Giftedness and Talent.

Comment A model of high ability needs to be more dynamic than simply

comprising just a definition or two. If you do adopt Gagné’s (2008, 2009a)
Differentiated Model of Giftedness and Talent for understanding high ability,
you are making a clear statement about your professional practice and your
professional role in the talent development process. That is, you are accepting
the responsibility of not only identifying high performance in students (that
is the easy part), but also of identifying students with high potential, and of
providing appropriately and adequately for their education, of doing
something real to ensure that the talent development process translates the
high potential into high performance.
184 Middle C

Element eight
Understand how children and youth learn. Understand how high ability children
and youth learn.

Comment Here I am not so much referring to learning styles, of which there

are about 120 models in the literature, most of which are merely dichotomous
in nature and all of which, in my opinion, are depauperate. Rather, this has
several other meanings, of which three are particularly important in this
context. First, students learn when they are actively involved and engaged
in the learning process: they learn by doing and modelling and reflecting.
Second, when students learn (in fact, when anyone learns) they necessarily
go through stages of learning a new concept, building up from individual
to multiple representations, before drawing connections between these
representations, and then generalising and forming an abstract understanding
of the concept. Third, each student has particular cognitive characteristics
that affect the extent to which he or she can learn and how effective this
learning is. For example, the cognitive characteristics of the high ability student
(see Chapter 5), would give an enormous advantage in efficient learning and
in applying knowledge and ability to solving problems. Each of these points
has quite considerable implications for curriculum planning and implemen-
tation (the terms real world problems, hands-on activities, scaffolding,
curriculum differentiation, and academic acceleration are on the tip of the
tongue).

My friend John Geake died in 2011, aged 62, leaving behind a monument
more lasting than bronze (Exegi monumentum aere perennius, Horace, Odes, 3:30).
Ex-hippy, nay, perennial hippy, and flautist, his writings on high intelligence,
creativity, fluid analogical reasoning, working memory function and cognitive
load create a happy marriage between education and cognitive neuroscience.
The story is well told in Geake (2009a), The brain at school, which I
recommend as essential reading for the professional educator.

Element nine
Embrace a theoretical framework for your teaching, which will be personally
liberating both for you and for your students, and which will promote and sustain
active teaching and active learning.

Comment Here I am sure the social constructivism of Vygotsky, along with

related concepts such as the Zone of Proximal Development and scaffolding,
will spring readily to mind. However, I would urge you to look beyond
Vygotsky’s “social context” to models that describe a stronger relationship
between the teacher and the student, such as Bandura’s social learning theory
 Middle C 185

(and related concepts of self-efficacy, modelling, and mastery), and Dewey’s

transactionalist and even transformative approaches to learning and teaching
(see Chapter 5).

Element ten
Use current best-practice models for curriculum planning and development, for
planning assessment of student learning, and in particular for evaluating the quality
of student learning.

Comment The revised version of Bloom’s Taxonomy (Anderson et al., 2001)

is very important; models such as the SOLO Taxonomy (Biggs & Collis,
1982) and Krutetskii’s (1976) (Mathematical) abilities give sound advice, but
may need tweaking (but neither tweeking nor twerking) or perhaps some
translation into other subject areas. Look out for other research-based
curriculum models for your area of teaching.

Of all your teaching strategies, techniques, tricks and tools of trade, first and
foremost develop, practise and expand your questioning techniques.

Element eleven
Create a creative problem solving teaching and learning environment.

Comment I would argue that the inclusiveness, participation, feelings of social

solidarity, face-to-face relationships, impartiality, shared cognition, challenge,
quest for meaning, modelling, deliberation, questioning, discussion, reason-
ableness, thinking for oneself and reflection, to be found in Dewey’s
Community of Enquiry, provide the best teaching and learning environment
for creative problem solving (Dewey, 1916, 1933, 1938a; Lipman, 2003; see
Chapter 5).

Element twelve
Provide the best foundations that will support a psychologically healthy and strong
internal learning environment for the student.

Comment Those who have adopted Gagné’s (2008) Differentiated Model

of Giftedness and Talent in Element seven above will recognise here in the
internal learning environment the personal traits and goal oriented processes
of Gagné’s intrapersonal catalysts.

The internal environment of the student is best supported by two things:

metacognition, and volition.
186 Middle C

First, move from understanding metacognition as “thinking about thinking”

to understanding it as a process of self corrective, purposeful reflection. Meta-
cognition really refers to a learner’s explicit awareness of, knowledge about,
control over and conscious manipulation of his or her thoughts, abilities and
learning processes. It also refers to the knowledge of how to go about solving
problems, the ability and skill to think effectively, and evaluative, strategic,
reflective and self regulatory processes (Tarricone, 2011; cf. Chapter 5).

Second, provide the learning experiences that will move, perhaps slowly,
but surely, the impetus of learning away from the teacher’s motivation to
the student’s volition (Gollwitzer, 1999; cf. Chapter 7).

Element thirteen
Adopt a model of self regulated learning.

Comment Here it is hard to go past Zimmerman’s (2008) model of self

regulated learning. Nevertheless, if you are venturesome and read a smattering
of German, you will find Stöger’s model (Stöger et al., 2009) most rewarding.
Her self regulated learning process of self assessment, setting goals, strategic
planning, applying a strategy, monitoring, and evaluation will result in
growth of autonomy and independence and self directed learning. But
remember that goal management and autonomy come neither automatically
nor easily. Like any learning, they require time and energy, and volition –
on behalf of both the student and the teacher. (cf. Chapter 7.)

Element fourteen
Adopt and adapt Pólya’s (1945) heuristic.

Comment This element will come as a surprise to many readers. The date
does look, well, shall we say, dated. And until now I have discussed nei-
ther Pólya nor his heuristic, save for a hint of his importance here and brief
mention there related to the quotes at the beginning of each chapter.
However, I believe that I have left the best till last. The reasons I say this
are twofold, both of which will be explicated in the following sections of
this chapter.

First, Pólya’s heuristic is more than just a handful of how-to steps for solving
problems; rather, it demands that the teacher has an important and active
role in the creative problem solving process.

Second, priority of publication, including priority of scientific and academic

publication, is to be afforded the individual or group who first presents the
 Middle C 187

particular findings from research or who first proposes a particular theory.

Here I wish to acknowledge and draw attention to Pólya’s priority in
reviving, developing, formalising, publishing, introducing to us, and carefully
explaining to us the modern conception of heuristic and the modern (“and
modest”! Pólya, 1945, p. 113) approach to creative problem solving, not just
in mathematics but also across all subject areas and fields of learning. All later
writers on models of creativity and problem solving owe a debt to Pólya. It
is not always (in fact, it is seldom) acknowledged.

In the Appendix, a summary of these 14 elements is presented in a table.

It is now time to meet Pólya, and to explore Pólya’s heuristic in more detail.

Pólya György (1887–1985)

Pólya György was born in Budapest, Hungary in December, 1887. He was the second
youngest of five children in a Jewish family, although the father had “converted”
to Roman Catholicism, and changed the family name from Pollák, in order to avoid
discrimination and to improve prospects for employment at a university.
Pólya attended school in Budapest, where he did not distinguish himself as a
student of Mathematics, or as a problem solver (e.g. in the Eötvös competition).
From 1905 to 1910, he studied at the University of Budapest, beginning with Law,
moving on to languages and literature, before changing to Philosophy, which led
him, inevitably, to study Physics and Mathematics. Pólya continued his studies in
Mathematics at the universities of Vienna (1910–1911) and Göttingen (1912–1913).
In 1914, Pólya took up a position as Privatdozent at the Eidgenössische Tech-
nische Hochschule in Zürich, Switzerland, where he taught until 1940. In 1918
he married a Swiss citizen, Stella Weber, and they remained inseparable until Pólya’s
death 67 years later. His achievements and productivity during his time in Zürich
were remarkable. First, collaboration with Szegő led to the publication of the
pedagogically rich and instructive book Aufgaben und Lehrsätze (Pólya & Szegő ,
1925), which still maintains high respect as a paragon of Mathematical instruction.
Second, visits to Oxford and Cambridge resulted in collaboration with Hardy and
Littlewood and the publication of the brilliant book Inequalities (Hardy, Littlewood
& Pólya, 1934). Third, long hours of teaching repeated classes to groups of
students led Pólya to his interest in pedagogy, which became the seed for his most
important work on heuristic.
Like so many other Hungarian mathematicians during the interbellum and
especially during the difficult times of Europe in the 1930s, Pólya became a
peripatetic academic and visited many institutions, which eventually led to offers at
universities in America. In 1940, he accepted a two-year teaching appointment at
the ivy-league Brown University, Rhode Island, before taking up a position as
associate professor at Stanford University, California, in 1942. Pólya taught at Stanford
until his official retirement in 1953, but actually continued teaching until he was 91
years old. As a teacher he was revered because of his care, concern and respect for
188 Middle C

his students, and the way in which he related to them, which was described by Weyl
(cited in Vásárhelyi & Zimmerman, 2010, p. 6) as “a sincere fellowship”.
Pólya’s long-term interest in developing a teaching method that would lead
to deep student understanding found expression in hand written manuscripts that
grew into his first major publication on heuristic, How to solve it (Pólya, 1945),
when he was 57 years old. Several substantial publications in heuristics followed
in his retirement years (Pólya, 1954, 1962, 1965a), including a film, Let us teach
guessing (Pólya, 1965b), which in 1968 won a prestigious education award (the
film is still available from the Mathematical Association of America in DVD video
format).
For 43 years, the Pólyas lived in the same house in Palo Alto, California, where
George died in September, 1985; Stella died four years later. Pólya has left behind
a legacy of approximately 250 publications, most of which report his creative
production and discoveries in a wide range of Mathematical fields, but also many
of which articulate a forward looking and far reaching method for teaching and
learning through creative problem solving, focusing on the nature of invention and
discovery.
For a detailed exposition of Pólya’s life and work, I recommend Alexanderson
(2000), with the delightful title, The random walks of George Pólya, which I have
relied on, along with Vásárhelyi and Zimmerman (2010), for information for this
biographical sketch.

Pólya’s heuristic: How to solve it

Pólya’s heuristic is a pedagogical model, and, I would suggest, a model (sensu an
exemplar) of pedagogy.
Heuristic is a process or a method “serving to discover” (Pólya, 1945, p. 113).
The term comes directly from the Greek verb ευρισκω, which means to find out,
discover, devise, or invent (Liddell & Scott Greek Lexicon). The sense of invention
is reflected in the Latin ars inveniendi (Pólya, 1945, p. 112), which, for Francis Bacon
(Novum organum, I, 122), meant the art or method of discovery. The modern sense
of heuristic includes both serving to find out, and, when applied to a system of
education, enabling or training (sic) a person to find out, learn, or discover some-
thing for himself or herself (Shorter Oxford English Dictionary).
For Pólya, heuristic referred also to the study of the methods and rules of
discovery and invention: “Heuristic aims at generality, at the study of procedures
which are independent of the subject-matter and apply to all sorts of problems”
(Pólya, 1945, p. 133).
In presenting his heuristic, Pólya often paid homage to Pappus (circa AD 300),
whose concept of αναλυομενος (usually glossed as the art of solving problems) comes
from the verb αναλυω, meaning to cause to wander, unsettle, unloose, or set free
(Liddell & Scott Greek Lexicon), and always paid hommage to Descartes and the Regulae
ad directionem ingenii, written circa 1628 (my copy is Descartes, 1701). The practical
roots of Pólya’s heuristic and pedagogical approach were apparently developed
 Middle C 189

during the 1910s, and were already quite evident in Pólya (1919), his first writings
on problem solving and pedagogy, and in Pólya and Szegő (1925).
This book, Pólya and Szegő (1925), Aufgaben und Lehrsätze, was written with
an interest in making Mathematics clear to students, and was designed, through
systematically arranged problems, to accustom students to the ways and means of
independent thought and research. By presenting a series of problems that are
mutually supportive, provide hints and clues to each other, jointly cover particular
subject matter, and offer the reader an opportunity to practise various strategies
and techniques important in problem solving, it was shown that subject content
could be developed through the careful organisation and ordering of the problems
themselves (Pólya, 1954, Vol. I, p. ix.).
The concept of “heuristic”, in the modern sense of the term, was formally
introduced by Pólya (1941). However, during the 1930s Pólya had produced a
manuscript, hand-written in German, that fully developed a heuristic linked
unmistakably to a well-structured pedagogy. The move to America in 1940
prompted Pólya to translate this manuscript into English, and How to solve it was
published in 1945. Since then, this little gem of a book has been translated into
17 languages and has sold over one million copies. According to Michalewicz and
Fogel (2000, p. vii):

Pólya’s How to solve it stands as one of the most important contributions to

the problem solving literature in the twentieth century. . . . The book
continues to be a favourite among teachers and students for its instructive
heuristics. . . . Essentially, the book is an encyclopedia of problem solving
methods to be carried out by hand, but more than that, it is a treatise on
how to think about framing and attacking problems.

Subsequently, Pólya further developed, expanded, explained and illustrated his

heuristic in a succinct article on generalisation, specialisation and use of analogy
(Pólya, 1948); in two extensive books both comprising two volumes, the first on
inductive thinking, analogy and plausible inference (Pólya, 1954), and the second
on discovery (Pólya, 1962, 1965a – the subtitle On understanding, learning, and teaching
problem solving is a wonderful summary of Pólya’s life-work); and in at least two
films on the nature and importance of guessing (e.g. Pólya, 1965b).
I find it astounding how much Pólya’s work in education, like Dewey’s, fore-
shadows later important educational contributions, even if different language was
used. Here I am thinking of examples such as: Vygotsky on the zone of proximal
development (or at least he foreshadowed the translation of Vygotsky’s research
into English and German); Bruner on active learning, on problem based learning
and on scaffolding; Bandura on self-efficacy, modelling, and mastery; and models
of stages of learning (Pólya’s stages are exploration, formalisation and assimilation).
Before research in creativity really began, Pólya was one of the first to point to
the importance of problem finding, problem identification and problem
representation, and appears to be the first to have linked learning and teaching,
190 Middle C

and the expression of creativity (in the senses of discovery and invention) to creative
problem solving.
I also find it astounding, or rather deeply troubling, that, while Pólya has enjoyed
a continued influence in Mathematics education (Schoenfeld, 2000), it would appear
he has generally been overlooked, forgotten, or ignored, deliberately or otherwise
(or worse, Pólya’s ideas used in one way or another without appropriate recognition
given to him), in other fields of education and problem solving.
For example, in Chapter 3, we outlined three problem solving models used in
many educational contexts: Thinking Actively in a Social Context (TASC: Wallace,
2001, 2002, 2006); Discovering Intellectual Strengths and Capabilities while
Observing Varied Ethnic Responses (DISCOVER: Schiever & Maker, 1991); and
Creative Problem Solving from The Creative Problem Solving Group (CPS:
Osborn, Parnes, Noller, Biondi, Isaksen, [Stead-]Dorval, Treffinger, Firestien, et al.).
First, note that the earliest publication arising from any of these three models, Osborn
(1953), appeared a full eight years after the publication of Pólya (1945). Second,
note that each of Pólya’s major works in heuristics (Pólya 1945, 1954, 1962, 1965a)
is published by a major publishing company, has been (and still is) widely and readily
(and cheaply) accessible, and has been well promoted across a range of educational
contexts. Third, note that in all of my extensive reading of publications on TASC,
DISCOVER and CPS, I have found nary a mention of Pólya, save for an
incorrectly cited and unreferenced quotation from Pólya, and a small (font size 8)
and very brief footnote referring to Pólya, both of which appear in the CPS
literature.
I would like to say, quietly but firmly, “No!” (sensu Barth, 1934): we can, we
need to, we must do much better than this. Our academic responsibility is to ensure
that due acknowledgement is afforded those who have gone before. Priority with
respect to modern heuristic, heuristic applied to creativity as invention and
discovery, the study of teaching and learning focusing on the nature of invention
and discovery, the study of teaching and learning through creative problem solving,
and heuristic as a model of active teaching, clearly and indelibly rests with Pólya.

Pólya’s heuristic: research and practice

In the previous section, we touched briefly on two points that deserve closer
scrutiny: the impact of Pólya’s work and ideas; and the extent to which Pólya’s
understanding and teaching related to the nature of thinking and problem solving
is supported by research evidence.
First, data from 30 years ago show that Pólya’s heuristic translated quite well
into the Mathematics classroom (Schoenfeld, 1985); more recent data indicated
that this influence on Mathematics education has continued, and also showed that
Pólya’s heuristic has drawn very little attention in other subject areas and in general
problem solving at school (Schoenfeld, 2000).
Recent examples of successful applications of Pólya’s heuristic in both secondary
and primary (German) Mathematics education may be found in the two-issue
 Middle C 191

publication of MU (MU: Der Mathematik-Unterricht, 2010a, 2010b) dedicated

to Pólya. For over a decade now, Pólya’s heuristic has been applied in the tertiary
education context, at first in engineering programmes and then later in all faculties
at the University of Adelaide, by Michalewicz and colleagues in their model of
“puzzle based learning” (Meyer et al., 2014). In Turkey, Sak (2011) has revised
and extended Pólya’s heuristic by including problem finding, problem identifica-
tion, problem construction, and selective thinking in a model, Selective Problem
Solving, that may be applied in creative problem solving across a broad range of
disciplines.
Second, two summaries of the research on the effectiveness of Pólya’s heuristic
tend to indicate mixed findings (Schoenfeld, 1985), or, at best, “promising” results
(Schoenfeld, 2000). The biggest issue here appears to be the way in which Pólya’s
heuristic, either as a staged problem solving guide or as a model of active teaching,
is applied. Indeed, many studies have simply applied the “four steps” of problem
solving from How to solve it; that is, students are “trained” to apply these four
steps and are then left to their own devices (for example, Bennett & Nelson,
1988). This point was highlighted by English, Lesh and Fennewald (2008, p. 3)
in their review of 50 years of research on teaching and learning related to problem
solving:

[S]hort lists of descriptive processes or rules tend to be too general to have

prescriptive power . . . [longer lists] tend to become so numerous that
knowing when to use them becomes the heart of what it means to understand
them.

As Hattie (2009, p. 22) says, “What teachers do matters.”

A line of research, interestingly in artificial intelligence, that has provided
increasing evidence in support of Pólya’s heuristic relates to “knowledge structures
required to operate on semantically rich domains” (Schoenfeld, 2000, pp. 235f.),
that is, the elaboration of problem solving strategies within a specific subject area.
The idea here is that it seems possible to programme computer-based “knowledge
structures” that can support problem solving strategies of the type described in Pólya’s
heuristic, a result that answers an earlier cry for research made by Newell (1983).
Schoenfeld (2010) concludes from this that Pólya’s heuristic is teachable – students
can learn creative problem solving via a heuristic. For those who are still sceptical,
one of the things we do know for sure is that, if strategies are not modelled and
taught to students, then not much will happen.
From his most recent survey of the research on Pólya’s heuristic, Schoenfeld
(2010) argued that any programme to advance our knowledge of creative problem
solving needs to examine and clarify the nature of the relationship between depth
of understanding of subject content matter and the development of problem
solving abilities. He drew three conclusions concerning teaching related to creative
problem solving. First, the teacher needs to help students develop a larger repertoire
of specific strategies that link more clearly to specific kinds of problems. Second,
192 Middle C

the teacher needs to teach metacognitive strategies so that students have a far better
conceptualisation of when to use particular problem solving strategies and content
knowledge (cf. Schoenfeld, 1992). Third, the teacher must find ways to increase
student self-efficacy and to improve student beliefs about the nature of problem
solving as it relates to the subject area (Schoenfeld, 2010).

Pólya’s heuristic: the model

Pólya’s heuristic is a model: it is a model of human problem solving (Newell, 1983,
p. 200); it is a model for understanding creative expression of invention and
discovery; it is a model of active teaching.
Many interpretations of Pólya’s heuristic see only the four stages of problem
solving. Unlike other problem solving models that describe a handful of how-to
steps or stages of problem solving (six, say, or eight), to be learned mnemonically
and applied independently by the student, Pólya’s model provides far more: the
teacher has an important and active role in the learning and teaching process.
If [the teacher] challenges the curiosity of [his or her] students by setting them
problems proportionate to their knowledge, and helps them to solve their problems
with stimulating questions, [he or she] may give them a taste for, and some means
of, independent thinking (Pólya, 1945, p. v).
Pólya’s heuristic comprises three levels or layers, from abstract to general
guidance to descriptive application, outlining the relationship between the teacher
and the student.
First, it is framed by four “phases” of invention and discovery, or, if you will,
creative problem solving:

Understanding the problem

Devising a plan
Carrying out the plan
Looking back.
(Pólya, 1945)

Second, within the framework of these four phases of problem solving, Pólya
constructs the strategies and reasoning for the active role of the teacher. There are
typically useful strategies and modes for varying the problem, such as going back
to definitions, decomposing, recombining, and introducing auxiliary elements
(Pólya, 1945, passim). There are dynamics for reasoning, in particular generalisation,
specialisation, and the use of analogy (for a concise illustration, see Pólya, 1948;
and for an extended discussion, see Pólya, 1954, 1962, 1965a). And, with a glint
in Pólya’s eye, there is guessing (Pólya, 1954, Vol. I, Preface; 1965b).
Third, within these broad brush-stroke strategies and reasoning, Pólya (1945)
proposes a host of descriptive (and certainly not prescriptive) helpful questions,
recommendations, imperatives, aphorisms, prompts, suggestions, commands, hints,
along with some cajoling perhaps, and always a proverb, for teacher dialogue, all
 Middle C 193

in a form somewhat akin to a method-acting script. Of most importance here is

the art of teacher questioning:

The teacher’s method of questioning . . . is essentially this: begin with a

general question or suggestion of our list, and if necessary, come down
gradually to more specific and concrete questions or suggestions till you
reach one which elicits a response in the student’s mind. . . . Of course, our
list is just a first list of this kind; it seems to be sufficient for the majority of
simple cases, but there is no doubt that it can be perfected. It is important,
however, that the suggestions from which we start should be simple, natural,
and general.
(Pólya, 1945, pp. 20f.)

Hence you see that Pólya’s heuristic is in fact the whole conceptual framework
and its related pedagogy of unobtrusively guiding student thinking and scaffolding
student development, with the intention of equipping the student with the skills
and ability to “invent and discover” independently, and to find a medium in which
to express that creativity. And you will see that the heuristic is not a fait accompli,
but is a work-in-(professional)-development that demands time and energy and
practice and commitment and sound principles.
In the following summary of Pólya’s (1945) heuristic, what is written in one
form, such as a question (e.g. “Do you know a related problem?”), may be expressed
in many other ways, such as a statement (e.g. “Here is a problem related to yours.
Could you use it?”).

Understanding the problem

Understand the words used, what the problem is, and what you are asked to
find or show. Separate the various parts of the question.
What is known and what is not known? What conditions are set? Are they
sufficient, or redundant, or contradictory?
Draw a picture or a diagram. Introduce suitable notation.

Devising a plan
Restate the problem. Go back to definitions. Find the connection between
the given information and the unknown. Consider an auxiliary element.
Is the problem familiar? Consider an auxiliary problem.
If you cannot solve the problem, find a simpler, related problem and solve it
first.
Apply familiar and practised strategies: guess and check, make an orderly list,
eliminate possibilities, consider special cases, use direct reasoning, use sym-
metry, look for a pattern, use a model, work backwards.
“Be ingenious! . . . Always use your own brains first” (Pólya, 1945, p. 149).
194 Middle C

Carrying out the plan

Be patient. Be persistent. Be determined. Maintain a positive attitude towards
the subject matter and the problem.
Progress and achievement proceed from organising, applying and manipulating
knowledge. Progress changes our conception of the problem.
Check each step. Show that each step is correct.
Use heuristic or plausible reasoning as a framework to construct a reasoned
solution or proof.
And remember the “inventor’s paradox” (Pólya, 1945, pp. 121f.): devising
and carrying out a more ambitious plan may have more chances of success!

Looking back
Examine the solution obtained. Check the result. Check that the problem is
solved. Check the argument.
What worked, what did not work, and why?
Can you now see the solution at a glance?
Can you solve the problem in a different way?
Can you use the result or the method to solve other problems in the same
subject area, or in a different subject area?

I would like to add a word of warning. In understanding Pólya’s ideas, and indeed
in understanding the ideas of any author, always apply a healthy amount of
scepticism to what secondary sources say and to the interpretation of the original
that they present. For example, under “devising a plan”, many commentators cite
Pólya as saying, “The skill at choosing an appropriate strategy is best learned by
solving many problems,” or words to that effect. I am not able to locate such a
statement in any of my copies of Pólya (1945) and later editions. Therefore, I highly
recommend taking the time and effort to seek out original documents, and to make
up your own mind about what each author is really saying.
Only after coming to your own understanding of the original text would I
recommend seeking out the latest findings from good, solid research. For exampe,
Sweller (1988) found that solving lots of conventional problems might result in the
problem goal but not necessarily in any learning. He even suggested that “Goal
attainment and schema acquisition may be two largely unrelated and even
incompatible processes” (Sweller, 1988, p. 283), and recommends that conventional
problems be replaced by “nonspecific goal problems” (p. 284), at least for novice
problem solvers. A conventional geometrical problem, say, might ask a student to
calculate the size of a specific angle in a geometric figure; a nonspecific goal problem,
on the other hand, would ask the student to calculate the size of as many angles in
the geometric figure as he or she can. For a recent and full discussion of the goal
free effect, see Sweller et al. (2011, pp. 89–98). In the meantime, create for your
students a rich portfolio of non-conventional, nonspecific, goal free problems.
 Middle C 195

The joy of problem solving

In theory, there is no difference between theory and practice. In practice, . . .
Element 14 of the Middle C model stated, “Adopt and adapt Pólya’s (1945)
heuristic.” Adopting is easy; adapting will take time and energy and practice. As
an indication of how the heuristic may be adapted, I offer several problems
as illustrations, and these will show how flexible Pólya’s heuristic is and needs to
be. In praxis, when applying and adapting the heuristic, the teacher must by necessity
be active, dynamic, and flexible too. For most effective learning and expression of
creativity, the application of the heuristic is best made when it is set within the
conceptual (or philosophical) framework of a pedagogical model for creative
problem solving. Hence, for the following examples it is assumed that Middle C
provides the teaching framework and that the first 13 elements of the model are
set in place, or at least are developing. Pólya’s heuristic is but a small part of the
whole teaching model. Because my background is in Pure Mathematics (those near
and dear to me say that I am a Mathematics nerd), most of the examples will have
a Mathematical bent. The unfolding of the story for each problem should provide
a hint for how the heuristic may be translated into other subject areas.

Problem 1: how many handkerchiefs measure a horse?

There are two important morals to learn from this problem.
The idea is to use a non-standard unit of measure to determine the length of
a horse. This is actually analogous to using a 30 cm rule to measure the height
of a person, most easily achieved by asking the person to stand against a wall with
a book balanced on their head, using a pencil to make a mark on the wall at the
bottom side of the book, asking the person to step aside, then counting how many
lengths (and part lengths) of the 30 cm rule lie between the floor and the pencil
mark. We do this every year with our children. But here, because of the strangeness
of the problem, the analogy is not immediately seen. The strange language needs
to be unpacked: each term “how many”, “handkerchief”, “measure” and “horse”
needs to be understood; what the problem is actually asking needs to be determined;
the unusualness of the problem needs to be made familiar and comfortable.
Moral 1: Understand the problem. Take plenty of time to carefully do this.
This phase of problem solving usually proceeds “in one’s head”. When the prob-
lem is understood, it is instructive to ask the problem solver to guess how many
handkerchief lengths it will take to measure a horse. Devising a plan is easy: choose
a suitable handkerchief as a standard unit of measure (I use a normal men’s pocket
handkerchief); determine the nature of the horse to be measured; and think of
what would suffice as the marker and the equivalent of the wall to carry out the
measurement. Show the problem solver the handkerchief to be used for the unit
of measure: show it folded; then unfolded but held vertically (think of the reasons
why you would do this). Ask the problem solver to revise the initial guess of how
many handkerchief lengths it will take to measure a horse.
196 Middle C

Carrying out the plan requires finding a friendly horse (and a fence to line up
the nose and the tail of the horse, extended or otherwise), and physically carrying
out the measurement with the chosen handkerchief. Whether or not you live in
a rural area, for this phase of the problem solving process it is well worth the trouble
of locating a real horse.
For most people, the answer to this problem usually comes as an enormous surprise.
Moral 2: The importance of concrete problems that require hands-on, active,
physical involvement of the problem solver cannot be stressed enough.
While we are looking back in this way, we should also reflect on how we could
use the solution to this problem to solve other problems. For example:

Problem 1a How many children, or how many adolescents, fit into a cubic metre?
For the physical construction of the cubic metre, expensive models are available,
but twelve 1 metre lengths of 1 cm dowel and some plastic garden hose (eight lots
of two small sections screwed together) will do the trick.

Problem 2: geocaching
Warning: geocaching can prove to be addictive!
Geocaching is an outdoor navigation recreational activity. Participants seek, and
hide, caches (containers of various sorts and sizes) that are often or best located in
interesting, aesthetically pleasing or education settings. To learn about geocaching,
visit the website www.geocaching.com/play.
There are two types of problems related to geocaching. The first is to seek caches.
Because the problem solving environment is so radically different from what is
usually experienced by students, the application of strategies and the learning
associated with the activity will tend to have high impact. The second is to hide
caches, and it is here that students may find a very different medium in which to
express their creativity. Apart from the responsibility of maintaining the physical
cache and its online presence, the level of challenge of choosing the setting and
designing the contents of a micro or nano cache is substantially high.
My experiences of geocaching with both children and youth reinforce that its
related problem solving develops neatly through the four phases of understanding
the problem, devising a plan, carrying out the plan, and looking back. At the same
time, the use of lesser-known technologies (a Global Positioning System (GPS)
receiver, or other hand-held mobile devices with a navigation application) to support
concrete, active problem solving can provide excellent motivation for students.

Problem 2a Design a Time Capsule for your school or community.

Problem 3: creative solutions to a square problem

You are given a square whose diagonal is two units long. The problem is to
determine the area of the square.
 Middle C 197

Student 1, with no knowledge of the concept of area, would see the number 2
and write the correct size of the area of the square as 2.
Student 2, with some basic knowledge of the concept of area, would see the
number 2 and write 4 square units as the answer to the problem.
Applying Pólya’s heuristic should lead to: draw a diagram.
Student 3, who works carefully and neatly, may draw a scale diagram, measure
the length of the side to be 1.4 units, and determine that the area of the square is
1.96 square units.
Because the area of the square may be found by squaring the length of a side,
most teachers would now ask the less neat Student 4, “What is unknown?” and
prompt the student to introduce some suitable notation. For most secondary
students, an x on each side of the square suggests applying Pythagoras’ Theorem:

x 2 + x 2 = 2 2 ⇒ 2x 2 = 4 ⇒ x 2 = 2 ⇒ x = 2 .

Now,

A= x×x = 2 × 2 = 2 ,

therefore, the area of the square is 2 square units.

Note that Student 5, who recognises that the answer to the problem already
lies in line (1) and does not proceed to do the calculation in line (2), has provided
a more concise, more advanced solution than Student 4.
However, practice with Pólya’s heuristic will tease out more abstract, more cre-
ative solutions to the problem. Rather than following an algorithm, using strategies
of decomposing and recombining, and introducing auxiliary elements to the
problem, will result in succinct and pretty solutions. For example:
Student 6 may recognise that a square is but one kind of rhombus (which is
difficult for most students to see, the logic being that teachers usually draw squares
“square-on” and rhombuses “pointy end down”, so that most students do not
see that a square is a rhombus as it is not drawn the correct way, and anyway a
rhombus is a diamond and a square is not a diamond), and remembers that the
area of a rhombus is half the product of the diagonals (which for a square are the
same length).
Student 7 may see that the area of the square is the same as the area of two
right-angled triangles for which the “base” and “height” are obvious.
Student 8 may see that the area of the square is the same as the area of four
small right-angled triangles.
Student 9 may dissect the square into one large and two small triangles, and
rearrange them to form a rectangle.
Student 10 may draw a larger square on the diagonal and see that the area of
this larger square is twice the area of the original square.
This problem, or rather its impressive set of alternative solutions, is important
for seven reasons.
198 Middle C

First, a more abstract and descriptive heuristic is more likely to result in a more
abstract and creative response than a specific and prescriptive heuristic.
Second, non-algorithmic approaches to problem solving are more likely to
uncover deep truths than algorithmic approaches.
Third, often a concise, neat, subtle, pretty solution to a problem is far more
creative than using a (metaphorical) sledgehammer to get the same result.
Fourth, both teachers and students should never rest easy with a single solution
to a problem. The problem solving phase “looking back” needs development and
practice.
Fifth, teachers need to model variety and levels of abstractness in problem solving.
Sixth, teachers do need to know when a student response or approach to problem
solving is significantly more abstract and creative than those of typical students,
and to know how to acknowledge this and respond appropriately to the student.
Seventh, the cliché “to think outside the box” describes unorthodox thought
or an unconventional response to a problem; what is just as important, and I suspect
harder to do, is to look inside the box and to see something that no-one has seen
before.

Problem 4: The Mystic Rose

The Mystic Rose is constructed by placing 18 points evenly on the circumference
of a circle and by connecting all of these 18 points on the circle to each other by
straight lines. The problem asks, “How many straight lines are there?”
This is a beautiful problem – when you draw a suitable diagram you will see
one of the reasons why I say this. It was dubbed the Mystic Rose by the Shell
Centre for Mathematical Education (1984, p. 58), who used it to illustrate Pólya’s
heuristic applied to a range of patterns-and-algebra problems. The guide to the
teacher suggested: try simple cases, find a helpful diagram, organise systematically,
make a table, spot patterns, use the patterns, and find a general rule.
Taking this lead, and looking at the diagram that you have drawn, with all its
many diagonals packed into the circle, and then remembering the maxim that
if you cannot solve a problem then you should find an easier problem and solve
it (Pólya, 1945), it would be natural to ask, “What would be easier than trying to
solve this problem with 18 points placed evenly around the circle?” Rather than
opting for, say, eight points placed evenly around the circle, it would be far, far
easier to solve this problem with but one point lying on the circumference of the
circle. Simplifying the problem in this way may then be followed by slowly
increasing the difficulty, or the number of points on the circle, and looking for
patterns: specialisation, followed by generalisation. Physically draw each example,
and watch and feel the pattern building: a table will help.

Number of points 1 2 3 4 5 6 n
Number of lines 0 1 3 6 10 15 Q(n)
 Middle C 199

Most middle-school students should recognise Triangular Numbers

T(n) = 1, 3, 6, 10, 15, 21, . . . ,

and will find several ways to generate the next term once the previous one is known.
But what “number” goes with n? Is there an easy way to find out the number of
lines for 18 points, or 100 points? Generalising to move from the term in the top
line to its corresponding term in the bottom line may require some hints via a
multiplication table. Here, what is sought is either a statement something like “half
the product of the number and the previous number”, or:

1 n (n − 1)
Q (n ) = · n (n − 1) or ,
2 2

which is the same as T(n – 1).

Alternatively, some students will not need to simplify the problem, but will see
that the solution is equal to a sum of integers, and most of these students will generate
the sum in descending order like this:

17 + 16 + 15 + 14 + 13 + 12 + 11 + 10 + 9 + 8 + 7 + 6 + 5 + 4 +
3+2+1.

Apart from adding this up by brute force (which is not all that generalisable),
the sum written like this lends itself to shortcuts by pairing numbers, but you need
to be careful according to whether there is an even number or an odd number of
terms:

17 + 1 = 16 + 2 = 15 + 3 = … = 10 + 8

and there is an extra 9 to tack on. As the very young Gauß apparently imme-
diately saw (but with the sum from 1 to 100), there is no problem of checking
whether the number of terms is odd or even if the sum is repeated, back-to-front,
to give:

17 + 16 + 15 + 14 + 13 + 12 + 11 + 10 + 9 + 8 + 7 + 6 + 5 + 4 +
3+2+1,

1 + 2 + 3 + 4 + 5 + 6 + 7 + 8 + 9 + 10 + 11 + 12 + 13 + 14 +
15 + 16 + 17 .

Clearly here there are 17 lots of 18, and the sum has been counted twice. There
is a bonus: generalisation is now easy.
A lot more mileage can be made from the problem of the Mystic Rose. For
example, it is excellent practice to introduce calculus concepts well before senior
200 Middle C

high school, especially for high ability students, and a discrete (whole number)
analog of differentiation is the concept of finite differences. In the Table of
Differences, below, the row of constants for the second difference shows that the
general solution will be a quadratic expression and will look like:

Q (n ) = an 2 + bn + c

Substituting n = 1, n = 2 and n = 3 in Q(n), noting that Q(1) = 0, Q(2) = 1

and Q(3) = 3, and using some junior high school Mathematics to solve the two
equations simultaneously, will give the solution we derived above.

Number of points 1 2 3 4 5 6 n
Number of lines 0 1 3 6 10 15
First difference 1 2 3 4 5
Second difference 1 1 1 1

Again for example, and in the spirit of introducing and developing advanced
concepts and accompanying notation to younger high ability students, we could
simply note that the Mystic Rose problem is equivalent to a combinatorial problem.
For n points evenly placed around the circumference of the circle, the number of
straight lines is equal to the number of ways there are of “choosing” two of the
points, i.e.

Q (n ) = nC 2

I would like to emphasise that it is very important for students to draw their
own diagrams and to find their own ways of representing the given information
and of organising the data. Only afterwards, when the physical, hands-on spade-
work has been done, is it appropriate to move on to other forms of iconic
representation such as software or online applications, and then only as a brief step
along the way to symbolic representation. Having said that, the University of
Cambridge website http://nrich.maths.org/6703, without acknowledging any
source for the Mystic Rose, provides an animation of the construction of a mystic
rose with up to 20 points placed evenly around the circumference of the circle. I
recommend starting with n = 3, then n = 4 and n = 5, and watching the visual
induction of the pattern developing, before moving to n = 18 on full screen.

Problem 4a How many games are played in a Round Robin competition with
18 teams, with each team playing one home game and one away game against
each of the other teams?
Comment The solution to this problem is easier to see than the solution to the
Mystic Rose, because the fraction is gone.
 Middle C 201

Problem 4b Eighteen people attend a meeting, and each person shakes hands with
every other person at the meeting. What is the total number of handshakes?
Comment This concrete or enactive example is conceptually easier than the
iconic Mystic Rose problem represented by diagrams.

Problem 4c Pizzas are flat and convex (usually circular) in shape, and are sliced by
using a circular cutting tool like a sharp wheel. If you make n straight cuts, what
is the maximum number of pieces R(n) into which the pizza can be cut?
Comment This problem provides a slight variation on the theme of triangular
numbers. Following the method of simplifying the problem then generalising, you
will generate the sequence, starting with n = 0,

R(n) = 1, 2, 4, 7, 11, 16, 22, 29, . . . .

This may be seen as

R(n ) = T (n ) + 1 or
2
(
1 2
n +n+2 )
Alternatively, consider the end of each cut to be points on the circumference of
the pizza or circle (similar to how we started the Mystic Rose problem above),
the cuts to be lines drawn between these points on the circumference, and where
two cuts intersect to be points inside the pizza or circle. We want to count the
number of regions R(n) formed by the n lines within the circumference. Each region
will have three or more “vertices” that are either points on the circumference or
points within the circle. Imagine turning the pizza so that the arc of one piece is
at the “top”, and so that no line is “horizontal”. Every region, apart from the one
piece at the top, will have a vertex as its highest point. Note that the number of
internal points, where two lines intersect, is the same as the number of ways you
can choose two objects out of n.
It is now just a simple matter of counting regions using the vertices: there is
the one region with the arc but no vertex at the top; n regions will have a vertex
lying on the circumference; each internal point will be the vertex of a region, and
there are Q(n) = T(n – 1) of those. Hence,

R(n ) = 1 + n + T (n − 1) or nC 0 + nC1 + nC 2

Very neat; very pretty.

Problem 4d This time, n points lie on the circumference of a circle and straight
lines are drawn connecting each pair of points. The points on the circumference
and their diagonals are such that only two diagonals intersect at each internal point
of intersection. How many regions are there?
202 Middle C
Comment Again following the lead of the previous problems, simplifying and
generalising should lead to the following table:

Points 1 2 3 4 5 6 n
Regions 1 2 4 8 16 ?

The pattern of exponentials 2n–1 may look too good to be true, and it is. You will
need to draw you own diagram and count the regions to determine the number
to be placed under the 6 in the table. This will give enough information to now
use the trick of Differences (as above); however, the algebra has become somewhat
ungainly, and the general term S(n) is a quartic polynomial:

S(n ) =
24
(
1 4
n − 6n 3 + 23n 2 − 18n + 24 )
Instead, applying the logic at the end of the comment to Problem 4c will give the
same result for S(n), but expressed now as:

S(n ) = nC 0 + nC 2 + nC 4

Again, rather neat.

Problem 5: the Tower of Hanoi

In Chapter 1 we met the Tower of Hanoi problem. As you will remember, the
problem is well defined: three pegs stand upright on a flat base; n disks of differing
sizes are stacked in a column on one of the pegs; no disk lies below another disk
that is larger than it; one, and only one, disk is moved at a time; when a disk is
moved it must be moved to another peg; and a larger disk cannot be placed on
a smaller disk. The problem is to determine the least number of moves required
to move the disks so that all n disks end up on a specified different peg.
The original problem by Lucas related the true myth of the Tower of Brahma
in a temple in the Indian city of Benares. Note that by the time the puzzle got to
Ball (1892) the story had become quite well embellished, and that Gardner (1965),
a popularist writer of mathematical recreations, was somewhat confused about the
events at the end of the world. Hence, I will cite the original description from the
leaflet that accompanied the puzzle:

D’après une vieille legend indienne, les brahmes se succèdent depuis bien
longtemps, sur les marches de l’autel, dans le Temple de Bénarès, pour
executer le déplacement de la Tour Sacrée de Brahma, aux soixante-quatre
étages en or fin, garnis de diamants de Golconde. Quand tout sera fini, la
Tour at les brahmes tomberont, et ce sera la fin du monde!
(Claus [Lucas], 1883, recto)
 Middle C 203

That is, the Tower of Brahma has 64 disks, each of pure gold and embossed
with diamonds, on a cylindrical stele. The disks are to be transferred by the temple
priests, I assume one disk each new day, from their original stele to one of the
other steles, which in the original was not designated. When the task is completed,
the tower and the temple priests will fall down, and the world will end. (Gardner
(1965, p. 58) stated that, before the priests complete their task, “the temple will
crumble into dust and the world will vanish in a clap of thunder.”) The problem
now, of course, is to determine how worried we need to be about when the world
will end.
The Tower of Hanoi problem contains deep, foundational Mathematical truths
such as the fundamental difference between odd and even numbers, and the logic
of Mathematical induction. Physically feeling and doing and seeing this problem,
and immersing oneself in it as it unfolds, are all very important. Hence, I highly
recommend that you build your own model of the Tower of Hanoi. My model
comprises a base made from river red gum, three pegs made from dowel, and a
pile of eight disks made from silky oak (see Figure 8.1).
Simplifying the problem by starting with only one disk and slowly but surely
progressing to 2, 3 and 4 disks, and so on, will concretely show the induction
process as it occurs. At the same time, it would be important to think about how
you know (or determine) which peg to move a disk to (especially if there is an
empty peg), and what kinds of Mathematical concepts are involved in progressing
from step to step.
It is good to get one person to move the disks and another to count the number
of moves required. Once the table, below, has been established, most junior high
school students will quickly see the connection between the numbers on the second
row, but should be prompted to express this in as many ways as possible.

Number of discs 1 2 3 4 5 n
Number of moves 1 3 7 15 31 H(n)

If a hint is needed to generalise the result for n, add a third row that repeats the
second row but with each number increased by 1. This will give the expression
for the number of moves required to be:

H (n ) = 2n − 1

About now it is thought provoking to produce several rows of differences in the

table, discovering that the differences do not become a constant. This (non-)result
actually foreshadows an exciting and important result in exponential functions that
is usually first met in senior high school.
Looking back, there is the matter of Mathematical induction to tease out. First,
recognise or acknowledge that one of the ways of seeing the pattern in the second
204 Middle C

row of the table above is, “To get the next number, double the previous number
and add 1,” or, expressed slightly differently, “To get the next number, take the
previous number, and 1, then add the previous number again.” Second, this means
that to progress from one iteration of the problem to the next, say from 4 disks
to 5 disks, you can physically manipulate the concrete model of the Tower of Hanoi
by moving the top 4 disks from peg A to peg B (which takes 15 moves), moving
the bottom and largest disk from peg A to peg C (which takes 1 move), and again
moving the pile of 4 disks but this time from peg B to peg C (which again takes
15 moves), all for a total of 31 moves, which is the next number in the Table.
Written as a sum, this looks like:

H (5) = H (4 ) + 1 + H (4)
= 2 × H (4 ) + 1
= 2 × ( 24 − 1) + 1
= 2 × 15 + 1
= 31 = 25 − 1

Note that H(4) = 24 – 1 and H(5) = 25 – 1 are both of the form H(n) = 2n – 1.
In Figure 8.1, this same inductive process is shown for eight disks.
Third, this inductive logic can be generalised as follows:

H (n + 1) = H (n ) + 1 + H (n )
= 2 × H (n ) + 1
= 2 × ( 2n − 1) + 1
= 2 × 2n − 2 + 1
= 2n+1 − 1

This shows that the number of moves required will always be H(n) = 2n – 1.
A neat trick with the Tower of Hanoi is to show the above inductive logic
using binary notation (“There are 10 types of people: one who knows the meaning
of the binary system, and one who does not” – source unknown). Our expression
for H(n) can be rewritten as a string of n “1”s:

H (n ) = 2n − 1 = 111
…1 (base 2)
n

which allows the induction step to be succinctly shown as:

H (n + 1) = "2n " × H (n ) + 1
= 10 × 111
…1 + 1
n
= 111
…1 (base 2)
n+1
FIGURE 8.1 The Tower of Hanoi problem with eight disks, showing four stages of
solution to illustrate the induction step.
Source: photos by Peter Merrotsy.
206 Middle C

As there are no accidents in Mathematics, the appearance of the long string of ones
(base 2) should give us pause to reflect on where they really come from – why is
it so? This thought suggests to me that we should look for another way to count
the number of moves, such as how many times each of the individual discs is moved
to complete the task. The iterative process, seen through binary eyes, becomes clear:
the largest disc moves once; the second largest disc moves twice; the next largest
disc moves four times; and so on. The string of ones (base 2) is a geometric series,
where each of the terms in the sum corresponds to the number of moves made by
a particular disc:

H (n ) = 2n−1 +… 2 2 + 21 + 20
= 1 + 2 + 4 +…+ 2n−1
n
= ∑ 2r −1
r =1

In essence, the Tower of Hanoi is a beautiful, manual, binary computer!

Oh, and when will the temple priests complete their task of moving all of the
64 disks? Note that when n = 64, the number of years to complete the task is:

264 − 1
H(64 ) ÷ 365 =
365

A rough estimate of the size of this number gives:

⎡ ⎧ H (64 ) ⎫⎤ ⎡ ⎧ 264 − 1⎫⎤

⎢log 10 ⎨ ⎬⎥ = ⎢log 10 ⎨ ⎬⎥ = 17
⎢ ⎩ 365 ⎭⎥ ⎢ ⎩ 365 ⎭⎥

That is, when this number is expressed as a decimal, it is 17 digits long. Given
that the earth is approximately 4.5 billion years old, it would take 10,000,000 times
that long for the temple priests to complete their task. Hence, it appears that “the
tower and the temple priests will fall down” well before the task could ever be
completed.

Problem 6: the dangerous school bus stop

Imagine, if you will, a small, relatively isolated, very low socio-economic status, rural
community. The secondary or high school in the town has an enrolment of
approximately 500 students, most of whom travel far and wide by bus to school.
The school is built right next to the busy main street that passes through the town,
and a small, short side street provides some space for a bus stop. At the end of the
side street there is a junction: another small street runs towards the town centre, and
a rough, gravel road winds along the school boundary, heads under a railway under-
pass, and skirts around a sports field. The main exit from the school is by way of a
gate that opens onto the side street. Between a staff car parking area and the bus
 Middle C 207

stop is a row of well-established fig trees and a one metre high fence. The roots of
the fig trees have disturbed the concrete slabs of the footpath, which have become
quite uneven.
Now, when the school bell rings at 3:30 pm there are already five closely parked
buses lined up at the bus stop. Within a few minutes, most of the 500 students have
streamed through the exit gate. The bus travellers, the majority of the students, either
board their bus or wait in a “queue” (read, “massed throng”) for their bus, which
will arrive later; the footpath quickly becomes quite crowded. The other students
move out behind the last bus and run across the main street to a tuck shop to get
some lollies, or wander out in front of the first bus and saunter down the middle
of the street towards the town centre, or ooze out through the narrow gaps between
the buses and head to a little laneway opposite. Visibility is poor, to say the least.
Traffic on the side street is intermittent, but, to be sure, some of the local young
gentlemen (the Aussie term is “hoons”) who do not attend the school like to drive
less than sedately past in order to impress the young ladies who do attend the school.
The rough, gravel road, apparently, is ideal for burnouts and squealies. In the
meantime, the adolescent boys who are waiting for their bus to arrive play “chasies”
which involves careering through and around the staff car park, vaulting the fence,
rumbling among the bystanders, and throwing sticks and fallen fig fruit at each other.
Life is full of incident, and accident, when you come to think of it.
The members of the school’s student representative council did think, and they
suggested that the bus stop scenario provided an excellent problem that needed to
be solved. By this they meant, of course, that the adults should solve the problem.
However, the problem was handed back to the students for them to solve.
Following Pólya’s heuristic, the students broke the problem into several parts, and
the solution to each part was approached by different groups of students.
The students achieved all of the following outcomes. Remarkable detective work
found that the rough, gravel road was not a designated road, and that the vacant
block of land at the road junction was owned by a state rail authority. Negotiations
with the shire council resulted in the rough gravel road being closed to vehicular
traffic but maintained as a footpath by the council. Representations to the rail authority
led to a long-term agreement for the school to lease the block of vacant land for $1
per year. Applications for state government funding for a new bus stop and for repairs
to the damaged footpath were successful. A new bus stop was built on the leased
block of land, which was safely accessed because the adjoining rough, gravel road
had been closed. The nearest traffic police were invited to increase their public
presence in the community, especially outside the school at 3:30 pm, and the suitors
in cars had to find other ways to flex their muscles. Visibility on the side street was
now excellent; students still ran, wandered, sauntered and oozed across the street,
but in relative safety. The concrete footpath was completely rebuilt and included
some simple engineering so that adjacent slabs would not move independently of
one another and would maintain alignment. At the same time, the offending fig roots
were trimmed in a way that the shade trees were not damaged, and the fence was
rebuilt and its height raised so that the boys would not jump over it.
208 Middle C

Moral: Trust children and youth to be able to solve problems. Give them the
support and scaffolding and resources and skills that they need, and trust them to
find creative solutions to problems.

Problem 6a Plan and build a memorial for a student who has died from cancer.

Problem 6b Create a garden for the community’s aged care residents.

Problem 6c Prepare a submission for how the school’s value (and the value it adds
to its students’ education) should be measured.

Concluding remarks
By finishing this chapter, and this book, with this wee collection of problems above,
I am, in a sense, returning to the place where I started those far too fleeting couple
of decades ago, working with Albert, a quiet, introverted student in a poverty-
stricken community in rural Australia (Merrotsy, 2004). This young student’s
educational experiences were the catalyst for my embarking on an extended study
of the theory, research and practice of teaching for creative problem solving. Now,
have I made the best possible use of experience (Pólya, 1954)? After all this exploring,
I am beginning to grasp the intricacies and complexities of the object, or subject,
of this study, and I have sought to express this experience and my growing under-
standing, in good creative problem solving fashion, as a model of pedagogy for
creative problem solving.
But what is pedagogy? I take pedagogy to mean quality teaching and the teaching
of quality. And what is teaching? “Teaching is to give a systematic opportunity to
the learner to discover” (“Was ist unterrichten? Zum eigenen Erfinden des
Lernenden systematisch Gelegenheit geben” Pólya & Szegő , 1925, p. v.). With
this in mind, my aim in this book has been to develop and propose an evidence-
based model, Middle C, that will serve as a best-practice conceptual framework for
your pedagogy, so that your students can discover, and invent, and learn, and express
their creativity.
I entrust Middle C to you, dear reader. It provides you with the knowledge and
skills to approach your own solutions to the creative problem of teaching for creative
problem solving. Adopt it, yes; then adapt it, and massage it, as the model needs
to become your own. Where should you begin? Begin with the simplest things,
and build on them.

Simplex sigillum veri. Simplicity is the seal of truth. . . . What is simple has a
good chance to be true. Try the simplest thing first (Pólya, 1954, vol. 1,
p. 194).

And as you apply Middle C, look out for students like Albert who can be
extremely well hidden in our schools and in our classrooms.

∞
APPENDIX
Middle C: creativity, cognition,
constructivism, and culture

Middle C: Elements necessary, but not sufficient, for a model of pedagogy for creative
problem solving

1 Adopt a model in which all of your teaching related to creative problem solving is set.
Of course, I recommend Middle C.
2 Be steeped in cultural proficiency.
3 Master the content knowledge of your subject area or field of teaching.
4 Master the pedagogical content knowledge of your subject area or field of teaching.
5 Understand the nature of a problem.
6 Understand the nature of creativity.
Adopt a model of creativity that is a suitable framework for understanding personal
creativity and the creativity of children and youth.
7 Adopt a suitably complex model of intelligence (e.g. Flynn, 2007).
Adopt a robust model of high ability (e.g. Gagné, 2008).
8 Understand how children and youth learn. Understand how high ability children and
youth learn.
9 Embrace a theoretical framework for your teaching, which will be personally
liberating both for you and for your students, and which will promote and sustain
active teaching and active learning.
10 Use current best-practice models for curriculum planning and development, for
planning assessment of student learning, and in particular for evaluating the quality of
student learning.
11 Create a creative problem solving teaching and learning environment.
12 Provide the best foundations that will support a psychologically healthy and strong
internal learning environment for the student.
13 Adopt a model of self regulated learning.
14 Adopt and adapt Pólya’s (1945) heuristic.

∞
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∞
INDEX
A-ha experience 20
Adams, H.B. 133
Adorno, T. 43–4
Albert, R.S. 139, 140
Amabile, T.M. 139, 157–9
analogies 75–6
Anderson, G.L. 114, 152–4, 168,
185
Astle, D. 19
Ausubel, D.P. 13–14
autonomous learner 167–9
Baddeley, A.D. 109–11
Baer, J. 5
Bailey, S. 72
Baird, J.R. 150–1
Bandura, A. 96–7, 170, 184, 189
Bannister-Tyrrell, M. 117–18
Bar-Haim, G. 53
Baron, J.B. 3, 91
Basadur, M. 53–4, 65
Beghetto, R.A. 4, 6, 38–40, 94,
183
Betts, G. 17, 167–9
Big C creativity see creativity
Biggs, J.B. 154–6, 185
Bjorklund, D.F. 11
Bloom, B.S. 146, 152–4
Bloom’s taxonomy 114, 152–4
Boekaerts, M. 160–1, 170, 172
Bono, E. de 4, 77–9, 82, 86
Borland, J. 47
brainstorming 73–5
Chaffey, G.W. 164–5
Cheng, R.W.-Y. 166–7
Chi, M.T.H. 24–5, 26
Chua, A. 136–7
chunking 21, 25, 109–10
Clark, B. 34–5
Claus, N. 15, 202
cognition 8, 11, 23, 25–6, 36–8, 49,
92–125, 131, 140, 141, 152–4, 171–3,
177, 178
cognitive load 71, 84, 119–20, 125, 184
cognitive style 6, 10, 38, 53–5
Cohen, D. 5
Cohen, G. 109
community of enquiry 99–101, 141, 185
competitions 145–6
concept map 77
Cornish, L. 77, 83, 86, 87, 95, 98, 105,
112, 117, 147, 151–2
Corno, L. 160–1, 170, 172
CoRT 77–9
CPS 54, 63–8, 74, 190
Craft, A. xiv, 4
Cramond, B. 4, 50, 51
creative expression 8, 91
creative knowledge environments 130–2,
137, 139
creative personality 41–3
creativity 29–55; Big C 39–40, 47, 127,
129; little c 8, 39-40; mini c 40, 94, 183
creativity, model of: four C 38–40; four Ps
35–6; four stage 33; Geneplore 36–7;
original and valuable 33–4; personal
238 Index

34–5; propulsion 128–9; systems 37–8, Gagné, F. 26, 47, 102, 139, 159–61, 183,
127–30, 171 185
critical thinking 2–3 Gallagher, J.J. 138
Crockenberg, S.B. 51 Gardner, H. 8, 11, 20, 24, 39, 102–4,
Cropley, A.J. 33, 49–50 135–6
cryptarithms 23–4 Gardner, M. 20, 202, 203
Csikszentmihalyi, M. 24, 34, 37–8, 39, Geake, J.G. 10, 53, 76, 93, 103–4, 105–6,
47, 60, 127, 129, 149, 161–4 125, 184
cultural capital 7–8 geocaching 196
cultural proficiency 6–7 Getzels, J.W. xiv, 12, 12, 14, 21, 60
culture 6–8, 20–1, 27, 31, 37, 47, 95, Ghassib, H.B. 129–30
102–3, 181 giftedness 7, 35, 45–7, 49, 52, 60, 108,
139, 140, 141–2, 168, 183;
Dacey, J.S. xiv, 41 metacognition and 117–18;
Danesi, M. 19, 20–1 traits 104–7
Davis, G.A. 42–3 Glaser, R. 24–26
delayed gratification 175–6 goal orientation 165–7, 171
Dewey, J. 12, 17, 98–100, 141, 142, Gollwitzer, P.M. 159, 161, 186
175, 185, 189 Gordon, G. 20, 53, 76, 88
dialectics 79 Goswami, U. 76
Dignath, C. 173 Gottfredson, L. 128
Dillon, J.T. 21, 151–2 Gowan, J.C. 34–5
DISCOVER 60–2 Grassinger, R. 146–7, 170, 172
discovery learning 13–14, 143 Guilford, J.P. 41, 43, 50
Driver, R. 94–5
Duckworth, A. 175–6 Halpern, D.F. 70, 71, 74, 76, 77, 81, 82,
Dweck, C.S. 165 84, 85, 87, 90, 139
Harder, B. 166, 167
Edwards, J. 78–9 Hattie, J. 127, 146, 158, 191
Einstein, A. 11, 133, 135 Helfenstein, S. 122, 123
eminence see experts Hemlin, S. 130–2
English, L. 191 heuristic 70, 122; see also Pólya’s heuristic
Ericsson, K.A. 25–26 Hmelo-Silver, C.E. 143
Evaluation of Creative Potential (EPoC) Hollows, F. 140–1
52–3 horse, handkerchiefs to measure 195–6
experts 24–27, 71, 75, 114, 125, How to solve it 188–90, 192–4
139–41, 143, 168; and novices 24–7, Hudson, L. 32
114, 194
expertise see experts identification 45-9, 106–7, 142, 160, 164,
183
Farnham-Diggory, S. 114 imagination 11, 12, 20, 32, 36, 42, 46,
Fasko, D. 4 135
Feldhusen, J.F. 41, 90 intelligence 101–2; see also multiple
Feldman, D.H. 31, 104 intelligences
Fermi questions 17–18 Isaksen, S.G. 28, 54, 63–6, 68, 74–5,
Fisher, R. 18, 21, 138 190
flow 24, 161–5
Flynn, J.R. 7, 101–2, 107–8, 125, 140, Jonassen, D.H. 14–15, 22, 83, 112, 113,
183 143
Fogarty, R. 120, 122
force field analysis 80 Kahney, H. 14–15, 16, 70, 71
Frenkel-Brunswik, E. 43–4, 124 Kaufman, J.C. 31, 33, 40, 94, 183
Furedi, F. 136 Kazi, S. 115
Furphy, J. xii Keating, D.P. 47, 93
 Index 239

knowledge 113–14, 127–8, 130, 135, 143, motivation 11, 12, 17, 38, 49, 51, 53,
146, 152, 153–4, 156, 178, 181–2; 92, 97, 106, 118, 131, 150, 156, 165,
see also metacognition, transfer, creative 167, 170–2; extrinsic 32; intrinsic 32,
knowledge environments 42, 34, 43, 157–9, 162, 163, 164;
kookaburra 81 and volition 159–61; see also Rubicon
Kostenko, K. 7–8 model
Krathwohl, D.R. 114, 152–4, 168, 185 Mulcahy, R. 87
Kruger and Dunning effect 124–5 multigrade see nongraded classes
Krutetskii, V. 20, 93, 105, 156–7 multiple intelligences 102–4
Mystic Rose 198–200
Lamoureux, K. 8
Langer, E.J. 36, 139 Necka, E. 135
learning 4, 10, 12–13, 69, 93–100, Newell, A. 23–4, 191, 192
120, 122, 123–5; effective 87, 150–1; Noller, R.B. 64–6, 190
lifelong 143, 149; see also self regulated nongraded classes 147
learning novices see experts
lifelong learning see learning Nückles, M. 173
Lipman, M. 99–100, 141, 185
little c creativity see creativity Ochse, R. 34, 45
Lubart, T.I. 33, 34, 37, 39, 52–3, 79, octothorpe model 162–3
158 Oech, R. von 133
Lucas, É 15, 202 Osborn, A. 63–4, 73, 74, 85, 190
Luckenbach, T.A. 39
Parnes, S.J. 28, 63–6, 132, 190
McCluskey, K. 33, 67 PEEL see Project for Enhancing Effective
McKeachie, W.J. 123–4 Learning
Maharg, P. 98–9 Pendarvis, E.D. 5, 45
Maker, J. 57, 60–2, 190 Perfect, T.J. 115–16
Marjoram, T. 72–3 Perkins, D.N. 89, 120–1, 122, 158
Martin, S.J. 141–2, 149 Phillipson, S.N. 7, 166–7
mathematical abilities see Krutetskii, V. philosophy 100, 141–2
Mayer, R.E. 11, 23, 24–6, 83 Plucker, J.A. 39–40
means-ends analysis 82 Pólya, G. 1, 9, 29, 56, 69, 70, 92, 105,
meme 37, 124 126, 137, 144, 149, 177, 178, 186,
memory 109; short-term 109–10; long- 187–94, 208
term 110–11 Pólya’s heuristic 186–187, 188–94, 195
mentors 146–7 postmodernism 107–8
metacognition 58–9, 65, 68, 78, 86, 87, Pressey, S.L. 140, 158
92, 93, 106, 107, 114–17, 123, 125, problem 13–15; finding 11, 21–2; real
127, 145, 150, 154, 164, 167, 170–3, 16–17; representation 22–3
186, 191; and gifted students 117–18 problem based learning 142–4
metanoia 99, 124 problem box 12
metaphor 75–6 problem solving 9–28, 70–3; and creativity
Meyer, E.F. 144–5, 191 27–8; history 11–13; information
Mezirow, J. 99 processing models 23–4; strategies and
Michalewicz, Z. 88, 143, 144–5, 189, 191 techniques 73–90
Middle C 1, 178, 180–7, 209; evidence Project for Enhancing Effective Learning
179–80 (PEEL) 150–1
mind map 83 Puccio, G.J. 54, 65, 66
mindfulness 139 puzzle based learning 144–5
mini c creativity see creativity puzzles 18–21
Mitchell, I.J. 150–1
model eliciting activities 144 Quek, G.C. 4–5
model of creativity see creativity questioning 151–2
240 Index

real problems see problem Tan, A.-G. 4

Renzulli, J.S. 17, 21, 26, 45–7, 90 Tarricone, P. 114–7, 186
Rhodes, M. 35–6 TASC 57–9
Riley, T.L. 146 teacher education 16–17
Rimm, S.B. 133–4 teaching creativity 3–6, 91
Rubicon model 159–61 Templeton, D. 72, 92, 101, 124
Runco, M. xiv, 5, 13, 32, 34, 35, 39, ten year rule 24, 26, 40
42, 74–5, 77, 79, 80, 81,84, 85, 88, tests of creative thinking 49–53
92, 127, 177 thinking 10–11
Thomas, J. 162, 163, 164–5
Salmon, G. 156 Thoreau, H.D. 134
Salomon, G. 120–2 tiger mother 136–7
Santa Claus xiii tolerance of ambiguity 11, 42, 43–4, 51,
Sarason, S.B. 98 53, 81, 158
SCAMPER 85 Torrance, E.P. 3, 41–2, 48–9, 66
schema 22, 25, 83, 98, 112–13, 118, Torrance checklist of creative positives
119, 123, 124, 194 48–9
Schoenfeld, A.H. 190–2 Torrance Tests of Creative Thinking 45,
Schwartz, B.L. 115–16 46, 50–1
Selby, E.C. 54 Tower of Hanoi 15–16, 202–6
self efficacy 42, 97, 118, 159, 164–7, transactionalist approach 97–9
171, 180, 185, 189, 192 transfer 120–3
self regulated learning 97, 115–18, 159, transformative approach 99
167, 170–5, 186 Treffinger, D. 28, 54, 63–8, 75, 81
service learning 142
Siegler, R.S. 93, 112–13 Urban and Jellen’s TCT-DP see Urban,
Simon, H.A. 14, 22, 23–4, 83 K.K.
Simonton, D.K. 39, 129 Urban, K.K. 51–2
six thinking hats 86–7
Smilansky, J. 21–2 Vásárhelyi, É. 187–8
Smith, G. 168, 169 Vernon, P.E. 43–44
social constructivism 94–7 VIEW 54
SOLO taxonomy see Structure of the Vygotsky, L.S. 14, 58, 93, 95–6, 164, 189
Observed Learning Outcomes
SPELT 87 walk and read 89
Starko, A.J. xiv, 88 Wallace, B. 57–9, 190
Stein, M.I. 3–4, 33–4, 38, 39, 40, 44, Wallas, G. 20, 33
74, 88, 90 Warnock, M. 135
Sternberg, R.J. xiv, 3, 27, 31, 34, 37, Weisberg, R.W. 27
39, 42, 43, 79, 108, 127–9, 136, Wiebusch, C. 142
158 wisdom 4, 107–8
Stöger, H. 97, 166, 170–2, 174–5, 186 withholding judgement 89–90
Storr, A. 32 Wittrock, M.C. 118
Structure of the Observed Learning
Outcomes 154–6 Zeitgeist 13, 50
Sweller, J. 82, 119–20, 143, 194 Ziegler, A. 97, 146, 166, 170–2, 173,
synectics 88 174–5
systems approaches see creativity Zimmerman, B.J. 170, 171, 172, 174, 186