I doubt I’ll ever forget the challenge my fourth grade teacher presented to our class: Throw a raw egg off a two-story building without breaking it. Our imaginations were aflame with ways to meet this challenge. We discussed and shared ideas with one another. Each student conceptualized and developed a distinct solution to the singular problem of how to keep the egg intact. Some students used copious amounts of foam and packing material. I employed a parachute. Results varied. Some eggs survived, while others splattered. This experiment was the perfect metaphor for problems I’ve faced since—problems which I cannot resolve with easy answers.

Educational models will better serve students by emulating the egg-drop challenge. We should present students with situations for which there are no easy, prepackaged answers. Such situations are opportunities for the inherent genius within each child to surface and perform. Life will present students with myriad challenges. Kids who are now in grade school will someday lock themselves out of their home, try to find a treatment to heal a patient’s body riddled with cancer, design agricultural methods that enhance soil and maximize yield, and parent a child whose behavior no how-to book adequately addresses.

Inherent in each of these scenarios are problems for which there are no easy answers. It is, in fact, the absence of easy answers that ignites our creativity as we seek to confront challenges. Remember how you felt the last time you locked yourself out of your car or home? If you’re like me, your mind wove multiple possibilities for how you might solve the problem before you. Each educational discipline can and should mirror this kind of process: Present a difficult challenge, give students freedom and parameters within which they can address the challenge, assess students—not on the product (Did the egg break?), but rather on the process (To what extent did the student immerse herself and her creativity in the process that preceded the product?).

Educational models like this exist, but are in the minority. Most often, rather than challenging students with processes that at once agitate and nurture their natural learning sensibilities we fetter students’ native curiosity and creativity by first supplying an answer, then testing them on their ability to furnish that precise answer. This educational paradigm is antithetical to the thrill of learning which I and my classmates experienced in our quest to preserve the integrity of an egg. It would have been far easier for my teacher to merely show us how to build “the ultimate egg-dropper” from a design someone else had created. But this would have been akin to thievery on his part to short-circuit our fourth-grade ingenuity. What a gift it was that he didn’t rob us of our creative process.

Divergence is instrumental to learning. But too often we seek to get rid of divergence at its first stirring–shunning it as a body might reject a transplanted organ.

Throughout history divergent souls have been met with scorn and rejection. Igor Stravinsky was one such Divergent. When he debuted The Rite of Spring a riot ensued. People attending the premiere expected to hear music that was familiar and comfortable. Stravinsky delivered something of another sort. The audience took offense and began to boo, scream, yell, fight with one another. Police arrived and were unable to subdue the crowd. Stravinsky was rumored to have escaped through a bathroom window.

The source of the conflict was not Stravinsky. The riot was fueled by the audience members’ internal expectations and assumptions. Interestingly, critics and audience members lauded subsequent performances. There were no additional riots. Why? Because the audience changed. “The Song Remains the Same.” Once the audience members adjusted their expectations they could appreciate and enjoy what Stravinsky was doing. It all made sense. It was so profound.

We have classrooms full of Divergents. They, like Stravinsky, want to explore and understand and articulate their perceptions. Stravinsky was inspired by West African rhythms, which he incorporated into The Rite of Spring. Imagine if Stravinsky had cowered in fear at the outrage shown toward his masterpiece. Imagine if he had never written The Rite of Spring for fear it wasn’t the answer the world wanted. I can’t imagine life without my favorite Divergents:

Jesus of Nazareth

Soren Kierkegaard

Bob Dylan

Vincent Van Gogh

Pablo Picasso

Thomas Edison

Alexander Fleming

Mother Theresa

Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi

Galileo Galilei

Aristotle

Make your own list and ask if your life wouldn’t rap hollow if these people had buckled or been made to acquiesce if they didn’t stop diverging. Their divergence made them brilliant. It made their life worth living. How dare we strip students of this gift?

You are very likely going to be in a classroom or other learning arena in which a youth will ask a question or make a comment that is off topic. He may challenge what you say or introduce a comment that seems oblique. Here’s your opportunity to give a gift that could change this teen’s life. Stop! Ask the student to say more. Do you remember the Donahue Show? Do a Donahue. Bow your white-haired head, stretch the mic out, and just listen. That’s it. Something is happening within that student. Water has finally reached that little seed with a message, “Hey little buddy. It’s time to wake up.” Life is in the works and you get to be a part of letting it happen. So resist the urge to kill the seed with a piece of plywood. Give it warmth and more water, and let it grow.

Teens are watching what we’re doing and saying. They have a deep sense that, “I know you’re saying this is how things are, but in order to understand what you mean I must explore certain questions whose end may or may not be yours.”

To effectively teach and mentor teens we need to permit, even encourage divergence–a central element to becoming fully human.