When I was a student at Butler University I had a psychology professor named Dr. Neil Bohannan. While Dr. Bohannon and I did not see eye to eye on many things, I readily admit that I learned quite a bit from the man. One of the phrases that struck me, and I recall it often (because I utilize it often), is “Learning = a change in behavior based upon acquired knowledge.” This equation, if you will, suggests two things; first – in order to learn anything, one’s behavior must change.  An example of this behavioral change might be: We studied the United States Constitution in History Class: I decided to vote, because I recognize voting as a right that is given through the Constitution. (Was it Mark Twain who said, “A man who doesn’t read good books has no advantage over a man who can’t read them.”?)

The second tenet is that behavior will change based on the assimilation of acquired knowledge. The input is the knowledge, but the output will manifest learning through the exhibition of an assimilation. In essence, there must be prior knowledge that sets the original behavior. Synthesizing my first example: perhaps I understood voting, or voted prior to my study, but due to my study I will now vote a certain way. Perhaps I will join a political party? This is a behavioral action taken due to my increased knowledge utilizing my prior knowledge – thus – I learned.

Let me break this down into a simple – yet profound example, so it’s easy to understand…

My daughter was 7 at the time. She and her mother were making cookies. I was drinking coffee and grading papers at the kitchen table. The ladies had melted chocolate in a pan on the stove top. My wife took the melted chocolate and turned to the sink to pour it into a mixing bowl. She told my daughter, “Don’t touch anything.” My daughter looked at the red hot coils on the stove top. I noticed her staring at them. Then she did something insane… she reached out and touched them. Now, my daughter – even at 7 – was a smart girl. For her to do something so inane was unfathomable, but she did it. I quickly grabbed the entire ice tray from the freezer and stuffed her hand in it while my wife called the pediatrician. “Why did you do that?” I asked her. “I don’t know?” she answered, with tears in her eyes. 2nd degree burns. A beautiful coil singed on my little girl’s hand. It’s still there to this day.

Following the ordeal I thought about why my daughter would do something so ridiculous, and what my daughter learned. Obviously, she learned not to touch a hot stove. To a degree she learned how to treat burns. We had a follow up discussion on listening to mom and dad. She knew the stove was hot. She could feel the heat. She could see the red coils. Her mother had given her a verbal directive saying, “Don’t touch anything.” And yet KNOWING that, she still touched it… So the question becomes: WHY? Did she really know that the coil was hot? Surely, she did.  What does it mean to know something? Can you know something without experiencing it?

Let me give another example:

I know my sums in math. I can add, subtract, multiply, and divide – but I don’t know how to utilize math, like the guy in that show Numb3rs. I can’t function with math. I can’t use it in my life to do much more than make sure the person making change at the cash register is correct. According to Dr. Bohannon’s theory – in the purest sense – I did not really LEARN math in school. It does not affect my behavior and I have a limited knowledge from which to acquire utility where mathematics are concerned.

By contrast… I can write music. I can create music. I can manipulate music. I choose music to listen too based on my mood. I can communicate feelings and emotions with music. I can help other people appreciate, analyze, create, and synthesize music. I hear music in my head at all times. I dream about music. I think in song patterns and sound waves. I hear lyrics when I’m in certain situations. I can connect my own behaviors and the behaviors of others to songs. I can hear colors and see palettes in music. I type in rhythms. I walk with a beat that changes according to my motion. I am a marionette of the Muse. I have learned music. I live it. I breathe it. I think with it. I think about it. I love it. 

See the difference?

Two things should come to your mind. The first is that I did not like mathematics, but I love music. The second is that mathematics and music have deep connections. Since math and music hold such deep connections, why did I not also develop a love for math? That’s an excellent thought. The difference may lie in what I love most about music… A person does not have to understand music to create it.

It’s true that music has a form and order to it. I can show that order in the chord structures. There are seven tones in a scale. Utilizing those tones we can build seven chords. Each of those chords can be manipulated into major, minor, half, and fully diminished chords. Also, the chords can be stacked with additional tones to create new chords. Additionally, music has functionality. Each chord works in an orbit around what we call the “tonic” or home-base chord. I did not learn any of this until I was in college, yet I was playing professional gigs through high school. Not fully understanding music did not hinder my creation of music, and my desire to perform it fueled my practice of it. 

Because of this universal understanding in music – and, really, all of the arts – they become approachable, meaning students can see themselves utilizing the art. Not everyone acts well, but most people are comfortable acting. The confidence in their ability elicits practice, and the practice elicits better acting skills that can then become refined into even better skills. Because of this principle, the arts can be utilized to create learning experiences in your classroom. These experiences give us a measurement – place, time, sequence of events in order, that students can set their learning anchors on. The experiences will also add to the student’s knowledge base. Once the knowledge base is assimilated, they will remember and adapt their behavior based on this newly acquired knowledge.

They will learn.

Do I have proof of this? Yes. Sarah and I have a student, let’s call him John. John is completely unmotivated. John’s parents have stated that John shouldn’t have to do anything that he’s uncomfortable with (including graduate, evidently?). I had all but given up on John, but during our Midsummer Night’s Dream project, while we were reading through the play, Sarah and I decided to have the students get up and tableaux the scenes to help them understand what was going on. John did not read aloud, but he did participate in a scene or two. After that, I noticed that John was paying attention. When the project ended we had the students debrief, which is a norm for our classes. On the debrief John said, “I din’t think midsummer d be cool, but we got to act it out. that was cool.” (sic) Did John understand the content? Yes. Would he have understood it if he had not seen it? No. That much is very clear. When did John begin to become involved? During the tableaux. I can give you the date and the time. What will he retain from Midsummer10 years from now? We will see, but my moneys on the tableaux of Midsummer Night’s Dream.

Dr. Bohannon was right. The question is: How do core-curriculum (traditional academic) classes utilize aesthetic experiences to create these learning anchors? I think the answer lies fully and completely in the curriculum that creates aesthetic experience: the Arts. Arts integration, by being approachable and creating experiences for learning, is the key. 

– Nate Foley