Picasso and Hawking for tea

As a learning coach,  I've met and learned with many children and each one has surprised me in a delightful way.

On our first meeting, I ask to spend a couple hours getting to know each other before we begin our adventure in discovering how they learn. As we chat about life, I observe where their eyes move, how long they pause, if they move their hands, feet, and for a dozen signs, searching for clues to how they process information and make decisions. I've done it for years now, and fall into a quasi-meditative state during our conversations.

A few weeks ago, I was caught off guard when I met the student I loving refer to as Picasso. Actually, since my student is a she, I should change my reference to Georgia O'Keefe, though Ms. O'Keefe wasn't as avant-guarde. (Ok, so Picasso was a cubist, just walk with me here.)
As I listened to Ms. Picasso explain how she likes McDonald's lattes and Michael Jackson, I interjected with a question  about what colors she likes. (I purposely stay away from the word 'favorite' as the idea of choosing just one answer places unnecessary pressure on some people.)
"The colors I like right now?" she asked.
"Yes," I replied, thinking that she probably liked a different color when she was five or six.
"Well, since we're in winter, I like white, green, red, and gold."
"Since we're in winter..." I pondered aloud, "you mean, you like other colors in the spring?"
"Yea, in the spring I like yellow, light green, and pink and in the summer I like a fluorescent blue and...
I recorded her responses for each season as I lost my mental footing. As my mind searched for a pattern that fit her answers, I noticed we were sitting in silence.
"What animal do you like?" I asked, hoping to land my swirling thoughts and refocus.
"Right now is winter, so I like the white rabbit because it goes with the white, green, red, and gold"
Ms. Picasso continued to give a palette of answers to each question, and as I took notes I dropped mental bread crumbs to assure myself that I would be able to find my way back and toward a pattern that would connect us with her thought process. As she put on her coat to leave, I placed her answers on a canvas and knew that no "paint by number" educational process would work for her. I took my notes, dropped them into her file folder and picked up the information for my next new student.

Moments later, after greetings and introductions, I explained how we would be getting to know each other and started by asking some basic questions.
"How old are you and what do you like to do?"
"I'm 13," he answered, " and I like virology."
"Virology?", I repeated, hearing the word for the first time.
"Yes, the study of viruses. Though I also like chemistry, physics, and astronomy," he continued.
"Ah, yes. Just a moment," I added, "I'll be right back."
I stepped outside the room and, like a wet dog, shook  from head to tail.

"It's time to start over," I heard myself think, "Picasso had to leave and I think Dr. Stephen Hawking may have dropped by for a visit."