Giving

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This week’s blog is a joint effort from Staff Members Vanessa Van Burek and Matthew Gioia.  They both reflect on their recent experiences with gifts, giving and community.

One thousand.

That is the number of children that the People’s Place of Kingston, a local food pantry, is trying to collect gifts for this holiday season.

As I prepare for Christmas in my own house I find myself excited for Christmas morning; for the unpacking of stockings, the huge smiles, the peeking through the french doors at a tree laden with wrapped goodies. I am fortunate. I have the time and the money to invest in my children having a magical Christmas. But many people aren’t as lucky. While we busied ourselves with Christmas preparations we also stumbled upon the recent New York Times article “Invisible Child”. The article follows Dasani, a girl struggling to survive as her family lives in a shelter in NYC. It was a humbling and devastating article and the timing made a huge impression on Ava, who, like Dasani, is eleven. Ava said “She’s my age and she is taking care of her whole family. What am I doing? Sitting here looking at my computer.”

That’s where community comes into play. This year our School Meeting passed a motion to partner with People’s Place of Kingston to help collect gifts. Beginning at the Winter Gift Sale, cards were strung through the school, each with the age and gender of a registered child. Shoppers selected the card or cards they wanted and purchased gifts at the sale for them. Vendors were supportive of the effort and offered deep discounts for shoppers purchasing gifts for this program. By the end of the day we had 25 high quality gifts – 25 purchases that supported local artists; a win – win.

In addition, Sudbury families purchased gifts at other locations and dropped them at the school. Over 100 presents were collected. The kids were beaming with pride and excitement as we packed the car full of gifts to take down to People’s Place. We can’t end homelessness, but we all have the ability to at least provide a smile to a deserving child.

After we dropped off the gifts I asked Ava how she felt.  She said, “I felt proud to be a part of collecting gifts. I felt like a Superhero. Helping collect gifts is one small step. It made me feel better because it’s going to kids like Dasani.”

-Vanessa

 

I finally got to witness and participate in HVSS’s famous “Secretive Santa” game last Friday.  I must admit, I was unprepared for it, and in retrospect handled my shopping for it a bit nonchalantly.  The whole morning an anticipatory buzz filled the school.  There was shrieking, giggling, and lots of nervous pacing (running). It felt…like Christmas.  There was the “Christmas miracle” of zero JC complaints to handle.  Oh, and there was a brief, halfhearted “war on Christmas,” speedily quelled. One student stood on a chair in the lounge watching the clock, reliably (loudly) counting off each minute until 11 o’clock.  

The gifts were opened one-by-one, because everyone wanted to see every gift.  As each recipient opened their gift they held it aloft so the crowd could gaze, mutter proclamations of astounded joy under their breath, and then shout and clap with glee.  I’m not kidding.  I was impressed by how well thought out and selected the gifts were; they matched their recipients perfectly, even when there were significant age gaps or the giver-receiver pair hadn’t spent much time together.  Very observant group.  Reflecting on this, I realized the real value of the whole Secretive Santa game, and I felt remiss for failing to properly honor and respect it myself.  The game, from the selecting of names, to the sleuthing for information, to the grand event, strengthens the school community, creating fresh bonds and invigorating old ones.  It felt like a family event and, if I may be a a bit dramatic and use some religious metaphor, that fulfilled the promise of Christmas for me: the revelation of family-like community.

I don’t have any studies to site today, but it seems self-evident to me that kind of community – larger than the nuclear family and including a greater variety of people than a single family ever could, but still caring and attentive – is the best kind environment for kids to grow, mature, and just be in.

Halleluja.

– Matthew

What do Staff do at HVSS?

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A parent suggested an informational blog post on “what staff do at HVSS.” He added that when he explains the school to people they often infer that, because no one has any formal teaching duties, the staff members are essentially “babysitters.” That tickled me, because when I worked at a public school I used to joke that, due to bureaucratic restraints, sloppy scheduling, and copious testing, I was often merely performing a minimal social service akin to – yes – babysitting.

To begin, here is a phrase in our “Staff Expections” which summarizes the role of staff very well: “Staff members at Hudson Valley Sudbury School ensure that the day-to-day environment and operation of the school reflects the school’s educational philosophy; act as role models of successful adult behavior; facilitate student access to resources; and perform the administrative and maintenance tasks required to run the school and care for the school property.”

For those unfamiliar with it, here’s a brief outline of the structure of staffing at HVSS:  All staff members at HVSS must be reelected by the School Meeting (comprised of all students and staff) each year.  When an applicant runs for staff, they are not running for a specific position. The administrative, maintenance, secretarial, PR, and other duties essential to running the school are organized in sets under titles called “clerkships.” After staff are elected, they – along with any interested students – may run for clerkships of their choosing. Each staff usually ends up with several clerkships, so it doesn’t make much sense for any particular staff member to be referred to by any title other than “staff,” except within the context of a particular clerkship (“tell the Office Clerk we are out of copy paper”).  Ideally, duties are spread fairly equally among staff so that everyone has time to be available for students to “use” as they will, and on any given day you can find students and staff working, playing, and running the school together.

So far for me, I’d say that being staff here has been a similar experience to what we offer our students. For each of my clerkships, there are lists of duties, policies, and assorted other materials gathered by my predecessors, and the veteran staff are my most valuable resource, but there was no formal training program: I was allowed to figure out in my own way how to  perform my functions, make my own routines, and learn the system of the school. The lists of duties for each clerkship outline the minimum requirement to keep the school running, but it’s possible to expand or improve on duties. In other words, like our students, who create their own school experience, staff are able to a certain extent to “create” their own jobs.  And also like our students, staff are not answerable to any single person, but only to the School Meeting.  I like that a lot, because the varied perspectives in the community usually total a fairer assessment than any one individual could.

Most days I spend some time “hanging out” with students, and sometimes I guess that actually might look like babysitting, except for one crucial difference: I have no authority over anyone I’m hanging out with (or any other person at the school for that matter), anyone may leave for another part of the campus at any time, and I have no obligation to entertain, feed, supervise, etc. anyone at school. In other words, we interact in an authentic, honest, and respectful way, as fundamentally equal.  This kind of “hanging out” is a very important part of school life here.  It’s loaded with potential – anything can happen, anything can come up, and anything is open for discussion. It’s also important because, generally speaking, students will only engage staff members for more focused activities if they have built a strong relationship with them. 

Sometimes, I have gone through my morning routine, and I have an open window of time.  I’ll prowl around the school peeking into each room, looking for something to do, something to join, someone to connect with, anything. Sometimes everyone is so engaged already that I can’t find a place to fit in; sometimes I don’t know what to do.  That can be uncomfortable, but it’s important for me as a new staff (just like it is for our students) to face that: no one is going to tell me what to do, or how to proceed.  Life, for the moment, is open, and it’s important, so what am I going to do?  

To conclude, here’s a quote from longtime Sudbury Valley School staff member Hannah Greenberg:

          The process of self direction, or blazing your own way, indeed of living your life rather than passing your time, is natural but not self evident to children growing up in our civilization. To reach that state of mind they need an environment that is like a family, on a larger scale than the nuclear family, but nonetheless supportive and safe. The staff, by being attentive and caring and at the same time not directive and coercive, gives the children the courage and the impetus to listen to their own inner selves. They know that we are competent as any adult to guide them, but our refusal to do so is a pedagogical tool actively used to teach them to listen only to themselves and not to others who, at best, know only half the facts about them.

          Our abstaining from telling students what to do is not perceived by them as a lack of something, an emptiness. Rather it is the impetus for them to forge their own way not under our guidance but under our caring and supportive concern. For it takes work and courage to do what they do for and by themselves. It cannot be done in a vacuum of isolation, but thrives in a vital and complex community which the staff stabilizes and perpetuates.

Uncommon Core

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One of the biggest ongoing stories in education today is the debate over the Common Core, a set of K-12 standards dictating what students should learn and which has been adopted by 45 states.  Objections to the rollout of the Common Core have been numerous and vocal, but one in particular was highlighted for me at our Gift Sale on Saturday: having a “common” curriculum built around intensive testing is an attack on creativity.  That is, by working to ensure that students’ minds are not on “the wrong path“, the Common Core actively seeks to thwart their creative potential.  It does seem inevitable that we would end up with a Common Core, given the history of our education system, which was powerfully influenced by the Prussian military machine that was so good at efficiently turning out effective and cooperative soldiers.   Many people have anecdotal evidence, and now there have been recent studies that show that teachers already overwhelmingly discriminate against creative students.  This is not a knock on teachers, either – the system compels them to act this way, and many of them find brilliant ways of subverting it.  Not surprising, then, that the system seeks to further standardize itself.  It is an irony, though (maybe someone can explain it to me?), because business leaders today increasingly claim they want to hire creative people with fresh ideas and problem-solving skills.  The anti-creativity effects go beyond making a living, though, because creativity is also essential to making a life – it’s skill that goes far beyond the arts, which it’s relegated to in common discourse.  Perhaps fear of uncertainty is what’s driving a lot of decisions about our education system.  We want to ensure “success,” and so new and creative ideas, which are inherently uncertain, and difficult to measure, are banished.  At HVSS, we offer a kind of Uncommon Core: an opportunity for creativity to flourish.  It’s going on all the time at school, but Saturday offered a clear look at it because the full trajectory of some projects became visible.

The seventh annual HVSS Gift Sale was a success in many ways.  The school was filled with beautiful hand-made crafts, there was a good turnout, scores of gifts were bought for People’s Place of Kingston, and the Sale was anchored by six student vendors, the youngest of whom is five years old.  All the student vendors went through a multi-step process to develop their products, design logos, price items, and display them in a professional manner.  They made hundreds of dollars and donated 10% to the school.  All of their own accord, of course.  Their products were unique, too – duct tape bow ties, heart-shaped rainbow crayons, “Brutal Bookmarks,” etc. I got a tiny stuffed ghost and a brochure describing how to properly feed, love, and put it to sleep.  I couldn’t decide which Brutal Bookmark to get, so I got two.  I want to be totally clear about this: I didn’t buy these things out of sentimentality or affection.  I wanted them, because they were high quality, charming, and creative.  Many shoppers at the Sale remarked on the student vendors’ confidence, poise, and professionalism.  One of the student vendors said, “just wait until next year when we’re more experienced!”

It’s probably fair to say that we all want certainty to one degree or another, in one arena of our lives or another (or in all of them).  When I describe Sudbury to people, they always want to know if it really works, do the kids go to college, where do they end up.  They want some degree of certainty.  Look, I get it, and those are certainly important questions.  But I also think that an offer of certainty can never be made, and that the quest for certainty – as embodied by our national education crisis, inhibits the lifeblood of our children.  I have no idea what our students will become, or how they will develop.  But I know that here they have the time and the freedom to create themselves, and I believe in them.  If you do want some proof, though, come to next year’s gift sale – our students will be even more experienced by then.

Chase and Pursuit

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How and Why Laws are Created – or Not – at HVSS

Recently, a staff member made a motion to put a defunct law called “Chase and Pursuit,” which forbids indoors chase games, back onto the books.  It passed to Second Reading, which means that it can be made into official school law at the following meeting.  But this law proved to be controversial, and the debate that followed revealed how in a democratic community even a seemingly simple proposition involves a complex web of implications.  In a small direct democracy, different perspectives inform and balance each other; it’s harder to get things done than in autocratic systems, but what’s done generally has more consideration behind it.

The Chase and Pursuit law was rescinded last year because there are other indoor laws which cover the parts of chase games that are disruptive: there is a noise ordinance, a law against moving fast, and another against being rowdy. The staff member who sponsored the motion to reinstate the law argued that there are activities happening on a regular basis which do not violate any of those laws but which should not be allowed.  I thought of times I’ve been working in the office and students sneak in and try to hide underneath my desk, or giant games of hide-and-seek spanning the building, and although they aren’t necessarily loud, fast, or rowdy, they are disruptive to people trying to focus on their own activities.  

Two older students attended the meeting to debate the law.  They argued that this law would complicate an already crowded law book; if there was a game of tag in the building, for example, would the players be charged with rowdy play, moving fast, being disruptively noisy, and chase and pursuit, making four charges for one event?  Wouldn’t that be a messy overcharge?  They asked where the line would be drawn between a chase game and simply “looking for someone,” or following someone who is leading you to a destination.  They suggested that the law would allow for people to be charged for harmless activities.  The rule’s sponsor responded that nobody would bother to write up harmless activities, but the students weren’t satisfied by that, arguing that such activity should not be technically illegal, even if it would be allowed.  

A second staff member spoke on behalf of reinstating the law, saying that it can be difficult to have a quiet focused group activity when chase games – even quiet ones – are going on.  Sometimes people playing hide-and-seek want to look in a room where a group is working, for example.

Another Staff Member chimed in, saying that she likes “a little chaos” in the building – it’s fun.  She argued that groups who are engaged in quiet focused activities are disturbed more often by random people barging into the room and for no other reason than to see what’s happening, and suggested that we turn our attention to addressing that issue.

When it came time to vote I abstained.  I wasn’t sure what my opinion was, and I left it to the people who were feeling passionate.  I was more interested by how any discussion of laws and procedures at Sudbury connects to the wider culture of the school and brings up essential questions: what kind of culture do we want to create at the school?  How much regulation is too much or too little? How can we prevent one individual’s freedom from disturbing another’s?  The motion to reinstate the Chase and Pursuit Law failed; the School Meeting decided to err on the side of legal simplicity, individual freedom, and fun.  The bill’s sponsor smiled concession, and we proceeded to the next order of business.