For many of us, it has been a long time since we’ve smeared glue on a piece of construction paper, sprinkled it with glitter, and proudly offered it to the refrigerator gallery. It has been a long time since we’ve stared down the barrel of uncertainty with a furrowed brow and a toothless grin. Those were the days of counting ourselves in, truly believing that we would become astronauts, professional soccer players, presidents, or mermaids someday. Trying and failing was commonplace, an invitation to learn and get better. Somewhere along the way, we became grown people that shy away from these opportunities.

There is no one more fearless than a kindergartener. I know this, because I used to teach them. Every day, I would watch as they jumped down from the monkey bars, and ran at top speed through the play yard, slowing themselves by crashing into one another. Their bravery extended beyond the confines of the playground. They never shied away from thrusting their hands in the air to answer questions, even when they did not know the answers. They made confident, bold strokes with their crayons, and signed these works of art with squiggly attempts at the letters of their names. Despite having so much to discover and learn, and so many ways to grow, they believed in themselves wholeheartedly. I sometimes wonder what happens to this bravery and certainty as we grow up.

Teaching my first classes to adults at North House, a folk school in Grand Marais, MN, I noticed something new was present in the learning environment: hesitation, doubt, maybe even fear. Students were offering apologies, insisting they weren’t very good at these kinds of things. Some were reluctant to start their projects. I watched as these grown people measured themselves up to one another, and crumpled. But as the class continued, and projects were underway, I noticed something else happening. In the steady hum of making, these students transformed. The classroom’s atmosphere shifted into something reminiscent of the kindergarten classroom. Playing, and exploring with the materials, comparison was replaced by collaboration. There was laughter, and yes, frustration, but these students were determined. These classes provided spaces where adults could reconnect with their inner child, and rediscover their ability to learn something new. I was struck by the pride and confidence that permeated the classroom as students finished their projects.

Something magic was happening here, in this place where grown ups could try something new alongside one another. It’s the magic of a folk school, hands-on learning environments where students are encouraged to share knowledge with one another and gain practical skills. Now, as the Program Director at Green Door Folk School, I continue to join folk schools around the country in the mission of promoting lifelong learning. And while craft courses like Introduction to Wet Felting, Wooden Spoon Carving, or Quilt in a Weekend are a little more complicated than glue sticks and construction paper, they provide the same opportunity to play and explore.