It's not something you can teach, but you can certainly learn how to encourage creativity. I heard a news report that kids now can't stand silence - something has to be running in the background all the time. My first thought was that they couldn't stand to be alone with their thoughts. Then it came to me, that if you aren't alone with your thoughts, how can you think creatively?
Several writers I know write entire novels to a single song, playing repeatedly as they type. I tried it once, and found I was imagining the story behind the song, not the song that attracted me. Unfortunately, it wasn't the story I wanted to stick with for four hundred pages. The silence that surrounds me when I'm alone at my desk is like gold. I can't write without it.
That doesn't mean I can't write in the midst of chaos. Sometimes, the wildness around me forces me to go deeper into the quiet place in my head, and the story still comes. But those times are few and far between, I've discovered, and I much prefer the silver quietude that is so precious, I crave it.
I imagine it's visuals that draw artists and photographers. One of my children takes incredible photos - usually black and whites. I don't see what she sees as she takes out her camera, but I'm usually blown away by the end product, finally recognizing what pulled her into the picture. I love how my other daughter imagines structures, merging the practical with the aesthetic. She can create whole buildings, complete with inner lives and histories, visually. They're talents I don't possess, but I know their source.
A rich inner life, the freedom to explore it, and the nerve to go there, are what take you down that creative path. Taking that first step into the unknown can be scary and exhilarating at the same time. Every first page of a new book makes me wonder if I'm going to belly flop off the high dive, or get in a perfect swan. The flops have been many. The perfect dive, I'm still working on.
It's the silence that gets me there. The silence as deep as swimming underwater, holding your breath, until you have to rise to the surface and breath, or you'll die. You take that big gulp of air, and dive again into the deep, working harder with each descent to get it right.