#Take5 #140 Rewiring Creativity

Rewiring Creativity: Returning to Higher Education as a Neurodiverse Artist

This blog is brought to you by Magda Olchawska.

I’m a London Met alumna currently working for the Centre for Teaching Enhancement (CTE) and the School of Art, Architecture and Design (AAD) at London Metropolitan University. I also run a filmmaking & educational creative studio focused on socially conscious storytelling & inclusive education. During the COVID-19 pandemic, I returned to higher education to complete my BA, followed by an MA. This blog explores my journey as a mature, neurodiverse student with caring responsibilities, who allowed herself to reconnect with her creativity through academia. If you are an educator, reading this blog would help you gain insight into the lived experience of a non-traditional student navigating higher education. By understanding the challenges students like me face, educators could develop more inclusive, empathetic, and flexible teaching practices that support diverse student journeys.

From Filmmaking to Formal Learning

In 2004, I graduated with a foundation degree in media practice but left university without ever having held a camera. I felt anxious about my knowledge and, as a result, chose not to stay for another year to complete my BA, believing I didn’t know enough to enter the media or filmmaking industry. I thought hands-on experience would provide me with more valuable insights than simply extending my studies for another year.

Instead of following the traditional filmmaking path, where one typically starts as a runner, often in an unpaid position, with the hope of eventually producing and directing their own films, I decided to create my own opportunities.

This journey was not easy, but it allowed me to learn by making films and developing other visual projects. Through that process, I was able to start building my creative identity, learn how to make autonomous decisions and learn from my mistakes in an inclusive environment.

After a decade of working in independent filmmaking, I started to feel stuck. I realised that the only way to get unstuck was through education. It wasn’t until the COVID-19 pandemic that I finally acted on my desire to return to higher education and finish my BA, for which I needed only a top-up year.

Completing my BA opened the door for me to embark on an MA program.

The Overwhelm of Day One: Doing what surprises you

Of course, joining the 3^rd year, I knew my classmates were going to be half my age, and already bonded. But there was so much more that surprised me. I didn’t expect to take a Performing/Theatre module, which was terrifying for a shy, introverted filmmaker who loves being behind the camera, not in front of it. I even approached my tutor to voice my doubts that I was in the wrong class. To that, he replied that I was in the right place, with such a conviction that it was hard to argue with that. Looking back, I can see he was right. The performing module pushed me outside of my comfort zone, forced me to work with people I wouldn’t have worked with otherwise and made me realise that when I was their age, I had the same attitude towards higher education.

The module has also opened me to possibilities of doing other types of creative work, not only filmmaking and writing. I decided to follow that opening into the unknown, which was the first step towards re-vitalising my own creative practice.

I do believe that skilled educators should push students, regardless of their age and work experience, outside of their comfort zone. Otherwise, what would have been the point of going back to higher education if I wanted my creative art practice to stay exactly the same?

Learning a New Language

Academic essays and project documentation structures were alien to me. Terms like “abstract” and “literature review” felt like barriers, especially for someone who left formal education in 2004. You could argue that some of this confusion was that I had joined the class in the final year, but actually, all of the students found this new language and the new expectations confusing.

There is much that lecturers can do to assist students in this situation. For example, they could provide clearer and more varied examples of how others have written their “abstracts” or structured their literature reviews. Offering real-life examples of how to apply the structure of an “abstract” or “methodology” during lectures could also be beneficial.

In my art practice, I don’t need to justify every decision with evidence, which higher education requires. It took me quite a while to get my head around the processes and expectations.

Receiving study support for my dyslexia and dyspraxia played a crucial role in my learning journey. This support significantly helped me with assessments and in developing my writing skills. I benefited from one-on-one online sessions with an experienced study support teacher who assisted me in structuring my project work, creating a manageable workflow, and assigning specific tasks (homework) to prepare for our subsequent sessions. This individualized support provided me with clarity and manageable tasks, helping me to successfully write “abstracts,” “artist statements,” “methodologies,” and “literature reviews.”

As a result, I gained a deeper understanding of the writing process, which allowed me to examine my art practice and my work in greater detail, adopting the perspective of a curious researcher rather then an exhausted student who needs to tick yet another box.

The Challenge of Pace

“The focus on submission deadlines dominated the learning experience, and not necessarily in a positive way. “

One of the most challenging aspects of my experience was the short deadlines between assessments. Often, two or three projects were due at the same time, leaving only six to ten weeks between submission deadlines. For me, this pace was too fast to allow for deep reflection and meaningful learning. Because the submission deadlines were so close together, it was nearly impossible to focus on any work outside the assessment requirements.

During my two years in higher education (in my top-up year and during my MA), I had no time to pursue my own projects. All my free time was dedicated to meeting assessment deadlines. As a mature student with a family and a part-time job, I was unable to engage in any activities outside the requirements of my assessments, including reading books, watching documentaries, or attending exhibitions.

While this was my experience, considering my various external obligations, I recognise that part-time MA students with fewer responsibilities were better able to engage in activities that enriched their learning beyond the assessments.

Feedback was often mysterious

Feedback often came too late to apply within the framework of a new project, and was often subjective.

For instance, during the top-up year of my first academic year, one of my tutors, who was new to teaching in higher education, refused to accept that students could have their own vision for how a project should look or feel. Instead of enabling us to develop our ideas, they constantly directed us on what to do.

During my MA program, I encountered a tutor whose feedback was consistently vague. Each time I asked for examples to clarify their comments, I was advised to conduct my own research, as that was their preferred method. However, how could I research something when I didn’t even know what I was supposed to be looking for? This same tutor showed partiality during my presentation when another student claimed that my film examples were outdated. Although I disagreed, asserting that while the films might be old in terms of production, their messages remained relevant. The experience was quite traumatic, especially when I faced verbal attacks from another student who disagreed with my viewpoint. The tutor suggested that I needed to learn how to defend myself against such attacks.

As a student, I was still learning, and it was the tutor’s responsibility to foster an inclusive environment where students could express their opinions, which they failed to do. Moreover, their feedback was often unclear and impractical, making it difficult for a neurodiverse student like me to improve on that particular module. Despite my initial excitement about the course, I left feeling deflated.

Another tutor remarked that my presentations were too colorful, either expressing their dislike for them or finding them too busy because they preferred a minimalist approach and they marked me down for that. In my view, personal preferences or artistic styles should not serve as the benchmark for evaluations.

Embracing Neurodiversity

During my Bachelor’s degree, I was assessed for dyslexia, and the assessment also revealed that I am dyspraxic. This diagnosis allowed me to access crucial support that contributed significantly to my success. All of my tutors were aware of my neurodiverse learning profile, and most of them were accommodating of my needs.

However, I don’t think students should feel the need to disclose their condition as classrooms should be inclusive for all the students. Disclosure can make people feel vulnerable and labelled – and is perhaps especially important for those students from backgrounds where neurodiversity isn’t recognised. I know that my own institution is committed to a principle of “inclusive by design” whereby adaptations are built into courses at the design stage without any need for statements or disclosures. This inclusive by design approach includes recommendations to offer choice in assignment formats and to take cognisance of the principles of Universal Design for Learning at every stage of our thinking. We have also built guidance on this into our PGCert LTHE and Introduction to Teaching in HE courses – and I share my personal experiences with participants in the latter.

A New Creative Chapter

Despite the challenges, returning to higher education proved to be transformative. It helped me relax more into my creative process, embrace the unknown the creative process often requires, expand my art practice, and adopt a multimedia approach to project development, which mirrors how my neurodiverse brain works.

My top recommendations for teaching and learning practitioners

Ask your students how they like to learn. My son, who is 16 (he was diagnosed with profound dyslexia when he was 8), watches YouTube shorts on topics he wants to learn.
Engage students in creating the right resources for the whole class. For example, if some students respond very well to shorts, why not ask them to make shorts about the topics you are covering. If another group of students prefers presentations, engage them in making presentations. I’m a big fan of active learning because, in my opinion, it allows students to learn many skills simultaneously, while gaining confidence in their own abilities.
When preparing reading lists, ensure they are neatly organised, prioritising what students must, should, or could read. Saying to a student that all the publications are essential isn’t helpful. If you use photocopies or scans of text as reading material, ensure the copy is clear and legible.
Don’t distinguish the learning materials between neurodiverse and neurotypical students. For example, during the induction lecture, you could inform all students about the assistive technologies your institution offers and advise them that if they require additional support, they can contact their course leader or your organisation’s Disability & Inclusion/Neurodiversity Support.
Listen to your students and how your teaching resonates with their needs.
It’s important to explain academic language to your students and provide plenty of examples. Your classroom may include students from diverse backgrounds and countries, and educational systems vary globally. By offering clear explanations and solid examples of higher education terminology, you can help your students focus on their work and learning rather than struggling to understand academic language.
Recognise that your students come from different educational backgrounds and use this understanding to create an inclusive classroom experience. Additionally, assist them in adapting to the British education system (if that is the system you are working in).
Avoid setting tasks that are unattainable. During my Master’s program, one of the lecturers advised us, as art students, to attend at least seven art exhibitions per week. This was unrealistic for anyone other than one individual who had no responsibilities outside of completing their MA. This expectation immediately made me question my commitment to the art scene, as I simply couldn’t attend seven exhibitions a week. Unattainable tasks have a massive impact on neurodiverse students’ mental health.
Provide feedback that is easily understood and relatable for students. If they respond well to examples, include those; if they appreciate suggestions or guidance, offer that instead. Consider asking your students what type of feedback they find most helpful, so they can use it to enhance their work and improve their learning experience.
Create an inclusive and safe classroom experience, where everyone’s opinion is valid and valued, even if you disagree with that opinion.

Bio

Magda Olchawska is a filmmaker, writer and staff member at London Metropolitan University. Her work explores socially conscious and environmental storytelling alongside inclusive education. You can find out more about Magda’s work:

📬 Substack & Creative Projects: https://magdaolchawska.substack.com/

🌐 Website: https://magdaolchawska.com/

🌐Studio: https://anotherwaystudio.net/