A Flower Arranging Class (and the Lessons Learned)

On a beautiful Saturday morning last month, my daughter and I participated in an on-site flower arranging class at a local florist’s farm, Olivia’s Flower Truck.

Jenelle, the owner of the flower farm, was also the instructor of the class — and she was the perfect instructor. She set the mood of the workshop by creating a comfortable and welcoming setting. She greeted each student with a smile and some simple instructions, setting the pace of the morning. She had prepared the area with all supplies, and even wrote two questions on the white board to help her students self-direct while arranging the flowers. There were 15 women of various ages who carefully listened and followed along as she spoke; some even took notes. Nobody was distracted on their phone or listening to music while she talked. She explained the concepts of depth and the goal of avoiding symmetry in your flower designs. She taught us how to use the tools and how to treat the flowers, and then let us go and create.

My creative and analytical daughter experimented, arranged, and planned. She took her time, but did not suffer from her decisions. I can not say the same for other students, who agonized over each placement, and would start and restart numerous times. Yes, some were more experienced and—with fluidity—arranged near-perfect floral designs. I must admit, like most of my schooling, I spent the whole experience observing, listening, learning, laughing, simply placing flowers where I felt they should go, and having fun with it. As we all arranged those spectacular peonies and roses into our designs, most of us had fun. I would guess all of us, except the women who struggled over and over to achieve perfection. (As any educator will share, those students who suffer from perfectionism are the ones we most struggle with — attempting to help them find joy in their learning, rather than the anguish.)

There were, of course, no grades. There was not even instructor praise that let everyone know whose work was better than the others. No — it was an experience without judgment. We started with the same working materials and the same instruction, and yet very different results… So why should they be judged or graded? 

I kept thinking, as I sipped the most delicious sweet meadow tea: How do we re-create this environment in schools? This educational experience, with the same materials and instruction provided to all, truly honored the differences in personal growth, experience, and learning styles. And we had fun! Two hours flew by, but a lasting impact was experienced by all — learning at its best and a true goal for any educator.