In Praise of Boredom
Neil Mufson, Head of School

I can’t remember the last time I was bored. It is one of the things I love about being a Head of School, a career which gives me enormous variety in the content and shape of my days, as well as in the ages and roles of people with whom I interact. Yet, after a delightful spring break that included time for what Italians call il dolce far niente (“the sweetness of doing nothing”), I found myself focused on the valuable role that unstructured time – and, yes, even boredom – has in the lives of children (and adults). My musings led me to search for insight in an article I had read several years back that was entitled “In Praise of Boredom” by the novelist Claire Messud. I found it in a Harper’s magazine issue devoted to a topic always of interest to me: “How to Be a Parent.”

I had started reading Messud in 2007 with the publication of her novel The Emperor’s Children, about three fictional Brown alumni making their way in New York City. I thought I’d capture some glimpses of a common college experience. Not so, but I found Messud’s work compelling because of her clear but lyrical prose and her mostly likable — but interestingly flawed — characters, people who appear to possess only advantages yet struggle with creating satisfying lives. Messud’s characters have difficulty figuring out what to do with their freedom. In small ways they have difficulty tolerating free time, boredom, or just going with the flow. In bigger ways they can’t discern their talents or a direction for their lives.

In her article Messed noted that we are a society that “worships purposefulness” but “we waste resources galore.” She believes that we find direction by having practice figuring out smaller open-ended situations. Thus she urges parents to provide “leeway for idiosyncrasy” and “patience for indirection” with their children because “having no truly empty time, [kids] are unfamiliar with the unexpected and exhilarating flowers that can grow there.” She argues that children need swaths of time “to embark on an endeavor that has no clear aim” so they experience true discovery, develop greater self-reliance, and discern alternative solutions. Psychologists and educators have pointed out the same thing: that when children are too programmed, when their time is always scheduled, when their activities are almost always structured by adults — when they don’t have to figure anything out — they become far less resilient, creative, determined, or assured thinkers.

Messud summed it up this way: “I want my children to embrace doing nothing, to embrace the slowing of an afternoon to a near standstill, when all you can hear is the laborious ticking of the clock and the dog snoring on the sofa, the rain’s patter at the window, the occasional swoosh of a slowly passing car… They’d have to stop, to be still, and then to wait, and wait, and wait, allowing time to fatten around them, like a dewdrop on the tip of a leaf. And then, only then, who knows what they might imagine or invent?”

Whatever your children’s spring break held — free time, free play, time with family and friends, or travel — returning to the routine of school, reminds me of the importance of providing some lack of routine, some open and unstructured time. It may be challenging in many ways to provide it, but creating opportunities for “time to fatten around [them]” nourishes their growing independence, ingenuity, patience, and self-direction.