Kitty Taylor

How can we bring the imaginative, emotional, and sensory dimensions of geography into our lives in meaningful ways? This question sat with me throughout my master’s, particularly as I explored the work of scholars like Gillian Rose (1996), who challenged conventional teaching practices through visualised geographies, and Emilie Cameron (2012), whose work on storytelling opened “new geographies” rooted in voice, multiplicity, and lived experience. These ideas, often situated in university seminar rooms – don’t need to stay there. In fact, I’d argue they shouldn’t.

Creative geographies challenge us to reimagine the classroom as a space of exploration and invention. By bringing ideas from the university seminar room into the hands of Year 7 students – through a pile of colourful bricks – I was reminded of the potential of geography to inspire wonder, dialogue, and deep critical thinking. Creative geographies are about more than artistic activities; they are pedagogical approaches that honour the complexity and diversity of how people engage with space. They invite students to see geography not as a static subject of maps and graphs, but as a lived, embodied discipline where material, emotion, and narrative matter. When brought into the secondary classroom, these approaches have the power to spark curiosity and deepen understanding, not just through resources, but through teacher passion and the energy we bring into our teaching spaces.

Big Themes in Tiny Builds

Recently, I observed a Year 7 geography lesson that brought these theories to life through LEGO. Yes, the brightly coloured bricks we often associate with early years learning were the central tool in a creative, high-engagement lesson that used play to consolidate geographical knowledge.

Students were given a “big build” brief; they had 20 minutes to design and construct a LEGO model that represented a topic, theme, or concept from the geography curriculum so far. The only rule? Their model had to be self-explanatory, it needed to communicate the geography without the student speaking. There were prizes for originality and geographical accuracy.

The results were remarkable. One group constructed a stylised river with features such as waterfalls. Another built a bustling market stall for their ‘Food for Thought’ topic, complete with tiny vegetable stands. Some modelled chickens and ducks to represent food systems, while others tackled agricultural machinery like tractors and combine harvesters. One group even attempted to recreate a map of the British Isles using green and blue bricks. The level of interpretation, pride, and creativity on show was extraordinary.

What Would Vygotsky Do with a Box of LEGO?

What struck me most wasn’t just the content being revised, it was the atmosphere in the room. This task became a masterclass in interpersonal skills. Students were negotiating brick use, discussing whose ideas to follow, troubleshooting designs, and problem-solving in real time.

The teacher began by modelling how to share the LEGO on their tables, using calm tone, open body language, and encouragement. This small but thoughtful intervention paid dividends. It made expectations clear and contributed to an environment of mutual respect and shared purpose. The classroom felt like a collaborative design studio rather than a typical lesson, with high levels of autonomy balanced by subtle teacher guidance.

This is where pedagogy truly shines, not in flashy resources, but in the small decisions that build culture: clear modelling, purposeful instructions, and high expectations for participation and respect.

LEGO might seem like a simple resource, but in the hands of students, it became a medium for complex thought. In trying to represent geographical ideas materially, students were challenged to think spatially, symbolically, and critically.

A model of a market stall didn’t just show “food”, it became a springboard for discussing supply chains, local economies, and the geography of consumption. The rivers, too, weren’t just visual representations; they sparked reflection on natural systems, erosion and deposition, and landscape change over time. This kind of making encourages a systems-thinking mindset, helping students connect physical geography with human impact and vice versa.

Play is Serious Business: Accessibility, Emotion and Equity

Creative approaches like this don’t just boost engagement, they promote inclusion. For students who might struggle with traditional literacy-based tasks, tactile and visual methods offer alternative ways to access and express understanding. Making also invites emotional investment, students feel connected to what they build, which can deepen learning.

Additionally, by making space for multiple forms of knowledge (visual, oral, material), we take small steps toward decolonising geography education. We move away from a singular narrative of what knowledge should “look” like and open the classroom to diverse ways of knowing, doing, and being.

I remember standing around a table in a large seminar room at the University of Exeter about a year and a half ago, surrounded by LEGO bricks and laughter. There were five of us, master’s students in a workshop led by Elliot Rooke, trying to make sense of creative geographies through play. At the time, I thought it was just a bit of fun. Five adults, playing with LEGO at university? It felt delightfully absurd. But now, looking back, I realise how formative that moment was. Those playful interactions – sharing bricks, negotiating meaning, telling stories with our hands – mirror exactly what I see in the classroom today. What once felt like an academic curiosity has become a practical, powerful tool in my teaching. That experience now lives on through my own students, reminding me that play is not just for children, and that the seeds of good pedagogy can be sown in the most unexpected places.

Takeaway for Teachers

If you’re inspired by the idea of creative geographies but not sure where to start, the key is: start small. Try model-making with simple materials, invite students to storyboard a process or map a story. Use speculative tasks…what might this landscape look like in 50 years?’, to encourage future thinking. Or simply reframe an existing activity with a focus on imagination and interpretation.

Crucially, creativity doesn’t mean lowering expectations. Quite the opposite, it’s about expanding the geography toolkit to make space for deeper thinking, richer connections, and more inclusive learning. Let the student’s take the reins. Creative geographies remind us that the classroom isn’t just a place for instruction, it’s a space of invention. And sometimes, all it takes to unlock this potential is a pile of plastic bricks and the permission to play.