George A. Johnson

What if the problem wasn't the student?

I grew up surrounded by teachers. My mother, aunt, uncle, and eventually my wife all dedicated themselves to education.

As a young student, I loved school. I earned excellent grades and often finished my assignments hours ahead of schedule.

Then seventh grade arrived, and everything changed.

Suddenly, subjects that once seemed easy became difficult. Despite tutoring and extra hours of studying, I struggled to understand material that seemed to come naturally to my classmates. For the first time, I began questioning my abilities.

But I eventually discovered that I learned best when I could engage my imagination, experiment, and connect lessons to something I enjoyed.

Without realizing it, I began turning difficult subjects into games and creative challenges. And learning became exciting again.

I was told I wasn't cut out for television.

Television and filmmaking had been lifelong dreams of mine. But when I finally enrolled in television production classes in college, I discovered that the program was almost entirely textbook-based.

I wanted to create. To experiment. To get my hands on the cameras.

Instead, I was told the hands-on experience wouldn't come until years later. The early classes were designed, in part, to weed out students who weren't suited for television.

Eventually, I was one of them.

For a while, I wondered whether my dream had been unrealistic. But my story didn't end there.

I went on to produce thousands of television and video projects, direct feature films, and receive more than 200 awards, including an Emmy®.

Decades later, I attended an advanced filmmaking masterclass in California. At the conclusion, the instructor awarded me an A+, something he said he'd never done before.

A plastic necklace. A million-dollar smile.

In 2021, I became a founding member and the first filmmaking instructor for California Adventure Camps, bringing hands-on filmmaking experiences to schools throughout the state.

I taught filmmaking the way I loved to learn: by making it exciting, creative, and hands-on.

Instead of simply telling students how movies were made, I put professional cameras into their hands. Even kindergarteners were writing stories, operating equipment, and creating their own short films.

At the end of each camp, we celebrated with a movie premiere and awards ceremony.

Students stepped in front of a red carpet backdrop, accepted an award, and delivered their own acceptance speeches.

I'll never forget one little girl who proudly thanked her family, friends, and teachers for helping her become her best and earn her first “real” award.

Her prize was a simple plastic necklace. But the pride on her face was priceless.

She had created something. She had learned new skills. She had accomplished something she could proudly share with others.

What if teachers could enjoy the adventure, too?

Over the years, I've developed dozens of creative, hands-on curricula, always with the same goal: equip students with the tools and guidance they need, give them an exciting challenge, and allow their creativity to lead the way.

But after years in classrooms, I also understand the pressures teachers face.

How do I keep everyone engaged? What happens next? How do I make instructions clear? How do I avoid downtime?

Those questions shaped the way I design Flying House Games programs.

I want teachers to open a program guide and immediately visualize the week ahead. I want them to feel fully prepared, supported, and excited to begin.

Our structured activities, instructor resources, and short daily video introductions are designed to help educators spend less time wondering what comes next and more time encouraging, guiding, and connecting with their students.

We didn't know how to build a treehouse. So we built a house in the sky.

During the COVID shutdown, my children and I decided to fulfill a longtime dream by finally building a treehouse.

None of us had construction experience. We simply had an idea and the willingness to figure things out together.

Our original plan was a platform in the trees. Then we added railings. Then walls. Then windows.

Before long, we were building an actual house in the sky, complete with carpeting, electricity, a television, and a gaming system.

We didn't know how to do everything when we started. We learned as we went, solving problems, exploring ideas, and discovering new possibilities together.

When we finally finished, we celebrated with a family sleepover and even had pizza delivered right to our treehouse!

Those are memories I'll treasure forever. But the greatest thing we built wasn't the treehouse itself.

It was the confidence that comes from imagining something extraordinary and discovering, step by step, that you can make it real.