Welcome Back to the Real World

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Hark, the school year beginneth! The long, languid, dreamy days draw to a drier, crisper end. Time to get back to reality. How utterly gratifying to return to a school designed to support young people’s humanness. How invigorating to be able to focus on such a vital task, rather than on, say, sprawling tomes of byzantine standards. Hallelujah. Summer fades, yet my mood endureth.

You know, our school is often misunderstood (big surprise, I know). It’s true that we’re different, indeed we are the alternative to everything else. But sometimes we are accused of living in a kind of Rousseaun fantasy – summer forever. Time frittered away in reverie while the rest of everyone is busy learning how to dominate the real world. I mean the markets. Or whatever. Ideas like this might even pop into the heads of Sudbury parents from time to time, or staff, or even students. But this unimaginative thought ignores the complexity, the history, and the evolution, of our human reality. In fact, HVSS is the most real place I know.

I want to tell a story from my own summer, about learning – a personal learning experience. I was lucky enough to get to spend five weeks on the coast of Maine on property my grandparents bought almost 70 years ago. The spirit of the land remains strong; like our Mountain West, Maine retains its natural power despite intensive human habitation. It’s inspiring, and I find that it sparks the imagination. Early on in our time there, I decided to listen to an absolutely devastating history of the Western Front of WWI – not sure why, going with my intuition – I’m impressionistic with my interests, that’s how I learn. I remembered reading about it in high school, but I only got the dried out basics: trenches, gas, it got bad out there. Basically, all I learned was that WWI happened, and it was important. In July when I started listening to this history, put together by a passionate and insightful reporter, and which included lots of first-hand accounts of the combat, I couldn’t stop. I binge-listened. One day I did almost eight hours of audio. I wandered around in a kind of daze. I lay in the grass and stared vacantly into the vault, I watched the tide coming in, II stroked my baby’s wispy hair for hours. It was really horrific stuff, much worse than I had thought. A few times in the afternoon I went running on trails through the woods, and I couldn’t help imagine being in the forests of Flanders, shells smashing into the pines as I ran, faster and faster, men (and boys) on the ground everywhere, clutching at the rocks, the moss, the mud. At night, lying in bed, I composed letters to my family and wife and children from a bomb shelter in Verdun, where I was waiting for my turn to jump out of a trench, just as the apocalyptic German bombardment of that city began. A friend there, in Maine that is, not Verdun, gently accused me of appropriating the worst misery of millions of people for my own entertainment, but I didn’t see it that way. I thought of it as a way of witnessing, of honoring the people who were there, and of looking closely at what people are capable of. It was all very real for me. The quality of the history, along with the space and time I was afforded both to find what was alive for me and to immerse myself in it, allowed me to have an amazing educational experience, because that’s how I learn. This is what’s available to our students here at HVSS: we offer the “real world” insofar as our students have access to all the ways they “really” learn.

Wow, I can’t wait for the first day of school – what fun it will be! The staff here are so lucky to be able to interact with young people, who everywhere lead the world in play, enthusiasm, hopefulness, and closeness, in an environment of fundamental equality. How satisfying, and what a relief, to be permitted to treat them with complete respect instead of being expected to compel them to perform tasks and regulate their behavior with carrots and sticks. What an almost mischievous joy it is to protect their access to money and political power within the school, which they are systematically denied elsewhere. And- even that last, totally outlandish-sounding proposition is totally “real.” The hunter-gatherers from whom we descend knew that young people are sovereign, too – we lived guided by such principles for hundreds of thousands of years; it’s etched indelibly in our biology. Perhaps that’s why young people expect to be treated with kindness, to be cooperated with, and to be given assistance. And – how fascinating it will be to watch our students learn in all their myriad ways, many of which do not look to our narrow perspectives like “real learning” at all. But! But but but but – no time is wasted here. If you’ve ever been for a visit, you may disagree – perhaps you’ve observed loafing, television watching, and texting and tweeting and instagramming. But even during these seemingly trivial activities, though, something important is happening, at least and especially when it’s happening here, where young people are candidly expected to be powerful and intelligent, where they are trusted as a matter of course to direct their own lives. The marinade is mixed and set – would you suggest the steak wastes time marinating? An inelegant metaphor perhaps, but it gets the job done. Just being here, where their full humanness is seen and honored, is, at certain points in individual students’ process, enough.

Speaking of steak, marinade, and the real world, I recently was helped at Fleisher’s Craft Butchery by one of our recent graduates, Colin Thrapp. He had just returned from a solo foodie trip to Norway. Since graduating two years ago he’s worked at Outdated Cafe and now he’s with the butchers. He’s out there in the real world, being treated with the respect he expects, learning real skills from experts, and, I might add, offering excellent customer service (thanks, Colin). He may or may not go to college – I don’t know, I don’t care, I’m just happy that he sees options where I saw only college, that the world is his oyster, that he is guided by his own genius and not any arbitrary external standards. That’s what our people look like. They’re just so themselves, just so…real.

So everyone, it’s that time of year: September, back to school. The bells are tolling, and teachers and students all over our surreal country are waking up nauseous. But not us. We’re really quite excited for a nice little dose of reality. See you soon.

Playground Build 2016

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I have to admit that I was nervous last Friday morning.  We had really paired down our plans for build day because most of our project leaders were unable to come on the actual date, and only a few people had signed up to participate.  Then, during the week, lots of people volunteered to come, which was great, but I worried we didn’t have anything for them to do.  I imagined little groups of bored and despondent, formerly hopeful people milling around in hats and work gloves, wondering why I was so unprepared utilize their talents.  I imagined them packed into the kitchen while it poured outside, huddling over styrofoam cups of instant coffee, staring grimly at the muddied floor, kindly offering their seats to each other, maybe even taking turns weeping bitterly in the far corner.  I imagined patiently trying to explain to each person the predicament, why it turned out like this, but being received, like a foreign diplomat trying in vain to maintain favor after breaking a promise, with icy silence, stiff nods, and untrusting-yet-firm eye contact.  

It turns out, though, that people don’t necessarily need to be told what to do.  When the time came, tasks and projects seemed to appear out of nowhere to fit the abilities and inclinations of those who were there. Imagine that.  The grounds were cleaned up and noticeably improved, new ground was claimed for the playground(!), and several creative structures were built by hard-working teams.  And it didn’t even rain.

People jumped right in, got to know each other, made new friends, and generally had a blast working together.  Try as we might to maintain our cool, nearly all of us were swept away in ecstatic waves of philia.  Human beings are made to band together to accomplish mutual goals; few things are sweeter or feel better.  I’d even claim that being part of such communal efforts is an essential nutrient.  Today we are well-fed.  To all who came out, please know that we are extremely grateful for your work, and even more so for your energy and kindness.  This school has always been a communal effort, built by many without centralised authority, the way a school should be.  Thank you all again, and see you Saturday!

See the Facebook Album for more pictures: https://www.facebook.com/HudsonValleySudburySchool/photos/?tab=album&album_id=10154287740028804

HVSS Theater Co-op Presents “Spamalot”

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A surprising thing happened this semester for the Theater Co-op. Once we chose our spring musical, Spamalot, many of the older members decided not to take part. Thus many of the new and younger co-op members received bigger parts than anticipated. At first this was a bit overwhelming and nerve racking for many of them since they were not sure they were ready for such a big jump. But with some reassurance they happily embraced the parts.

Working on this show has felt a lot like working on my first show with HVSS; Arsenic and Old Lace in 2013. During our normal rehearsals I slip in acting exercises and games to support actor training while we work on our blocking. Little things to help with the basics you would get in an acting class or know from doing a previous show. However there is one very different thing this time around, two thirds of our rehearsals are for either dancing or singing, another set of skills new to some of these actors. Thus they have a lot more to work on everyday. Since it is a lot to take in, occasionally our rehearsals will become unfocused, but unlike 2013 I now know how to work with Sudbury students much better. We started to collectively make rules for what to do in rehearsal while you are not on stage; to keep focused on the show so that we are using the 10 hours of rehearsal time per week to its fullest.

I have very high expectations for these students and the work we put out as a co-operative. No matter their age or experience level (there are first timers in this show and ages 7-15). We keep working moments in scenes, songs and dance numbers until they are right. I also added a new facet to the show this year, which is that each student must assist in a technical aspect of the show. It has been a learning experience adding this extra task. Some students stepped into their technical roles with ease, such as our choreographer and vocal coach; while other have missed deadlines and worked a little harder to get their tasks done, but they did get them done. Needless to say being part to the theater co-op takes a lot of dedication.

The best part of this experience for me has been seeing these students, some of whom I’ve been working with for 3 years, gaining confidence and breaking out of their shells to take on leading roles, both on and off stage. It’s been a pleasure to get the chance to work more closely with them, and help shape their performances.

This show is very ambitious, our biggest yet. Much like the group in 2013 they are learning fast and working hard, and it’s paying off. Spamalot, (a delightful rip off of Monty Python and the Holy Grail) is a wacky, over the top self-aware comedy. In fact the choice to do Spamalot, a challenging show for any group of even adult actors is not out of the ordinary for this group. These students aren’t satisfied by run of the mill kids plays, they go out of their way to pick fun shows that are bold and interesting and push the boundaries of what most consider children’s theater. Which is one of the reasons our shows get such high praise, because we put on shows audiences want to see with exciting characters to watch.

These young people are doing a great job taking their new acting training seriously so that they can be totally ridiculous on stage. Right now we are putting the final touches on our wackiness, making our silly walks a little sillier; our crazy voices a little crazier; and our punch lines a little punchline-ier. You won’t want to miss it. I am excited to see this group perform; to see these fresh faces, and a few of our veterans, help us all find our grails’.

Math

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I’ve worked at Sudbury for five years now and this fifth year is my nerdy dream-come-true. As a Sudbury staff member, we follow the students’ lead and engage in the activities they choose to pursue. Sometimes our personal passions are shared by students and we can engage in those activities together, and other times we might be waiting around for a long, long while for something we love to catch on. Well, I love evaluating algebraic expressions, playing with geometric shapes, and puzzling out information about movement and time, and lucky for me this year I get to teach about these concepts every day of the week!

In this glorious, mixed-age environment, with students moving freely throughout the building, popping their heads into side rooms, engaging in constant conversation, and organizing around their interests, fads can spread rapidly here. Rainbow-colored hair, D&D, improv games, Ga Ga Ball, Geometry Dash, Heelys…the list goes on. I’d like to think of math as “the new Heelys”. Or maybe Heelys are the new math. Either way, the number of students engaged in some sort of formal mathematics study has doubled over the last few months, and I’m loving it.

This all began at the beginning of the school year when a 13-year-old came to me to ask for help preparing for college admission. She dreams of attending NYU for dance and performing arts, and learned from their website that competitive applicants have high SAT scores and must demonstrate proficiency with a range of math skills and concepts. And so the classes began. Our “Do Not Disturb – Math in Progress” sign got some attention, word travelled, and soon others were asking about what we were working on and if they could join in, too. A second class was added for a different group of friends that wanted to work collaboratively. A handful of other students met with me once or twice and then set out on their own or in pairs to pursue the subject independently. At this point in the year, I’ve had about twenty-five students ask for math support in one way or another, and I know that other staff (and students, too) have offered formal math resources to even more students.

The funny thing is though, although this is the first year that formal math study has taken off since I’ve been here, the students I’m working with already know a tremendous amount about the subject. Within a handful of weeks, the students have been at or above public school “grade level” in math, even though this is their first math class ever. So how do we explain that? I started asking around to find out how students learned what they know:

  • “School store – I go in and buy things every day.”
  • “I learned math in the school store when I was getting mentored to become a cashier.”
  • “An older student taught me. They wanted to try teaching math, so they sat me down and I learned how to multiply.”
  • “My mom wanted me to memorize the times tables so she put a big chart up in my room, but I thought, ‘Well that’s pointless. Why memorize it if it’s right there in front of me?’ But I learned what I need to know just by looking things up when I need it and that’s given me the skills I need for everyday stuff.”

But most Sudbury students can’t tell you how they learned math. In fact, many of them wouldn’t say they know any math at all until you press them:

  • “I dunno, I just learned it. It’s like walking. No one taught me exactly, I just tried at it and one day I was walking. One day I just knew how to work with numbers.”
  • “I don’t know any math… well yeah, I can do basic things like buy things in the school store.”
  • “I can’t do math really… oh, well yeah when I bake stuff in the kitchen.”
  • “I don’t really do any math…sure, that’s true. I do math with Magic [Magic the Gathering card game].”

The truth is, math is everywhere. We consider it a fundamental skill for successful adulthood because we use it all the time, in all sorts of ways; for students living their big, full, diverse lives here at school, they encounter these real-world mathematical applications at every turn. Baking in the kitchen, making change in the School Store, counting in a board game, making calculations for a video game or card game, taking measurements for a sewing project, constructing a structure in the playground… the list goes on. Even pursuits that use no math skills directly seem to be helping students in their math studies. One student active in the Theater Co-op had half of her multiplication facts memorized overnight, after significant practice memorizing lines for school plays. Another student who spends a tremendous amount of time making three-dimensional art in the art room was especially quick at looking at two-dimensional representations of 3-D objects and calculating volume and surface area.

Sometimes parents worry about how their kid is going to learn math if they’re never forced to take a course. It seems to me that students will have a hard time avoiding learning math if they are also, as they are at Sudbury, given ample space and support to pursue their passions within a dynamic community of learners. Parents aren’t the only one with this concern though. While students experience the unique challenges and joys of self-directed learning, they are aware that just down the road and all across the nation, others their age are sitting in rows being drilled in arithmetic and algebra and geometry and a range of other subjects. And Sudbury students want to know how they measure up. For many of the students seeking my assistance in math this year, the first thing they’ll say is that they want to make sure they can hack it, and that they aren’t “falling behind” their public school peers.

“I practiced some algebra a little bit at the beginning of the year for a few weeks. I realized it wasn’t actually that hard, I got bored, and I stopped doing it.”

For some students, the reassurance that they can learn the material when they try is enough and after a few sessions they move on to something else. For other students, they find they genuinely enjoy mathematical problem-solving and concepts and continue their study week after week, moving far beyond the public school expectations for students their age. So maybe we’ll continue on to calculus, or maybe a new fad will sweep through and it’ll be on to the next thing. Meanwhile, I’ll savor the moment and who knows, maybe their next passion will be long-distance bicycle touring and I’ll find my bliss again.

Gaming, Parkour, and the Art of Moving Like Water

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Take a peek into our “Lounge Extension Room One,” any hour of any day, and you’ll likely see a half-dozen or so 9-12-year-old students doing…something, intently on their laptops, often with eyebrows raised, mouths open slightly, and heads thrust forward, belying one-pointed concentration, unflagging determination, and ecstatic flow. So- what the hell are they doing exactly? What’s so darn engaging, and what’s it all about? Where’s the utility? Sometimes they appear to be collaborating, working together to defeat common enemies, and sometimes competing (fiercely) against each other. Other times they’re independently facing challenges, sticking it out as long as it takes to see them through, and still other times they aren’t competing at all, but are, rather, creating rooms, buildings, cities, and whole worlds. Their screens fill the room with bright colors, frenetic music, and a wickedly fast pace of activity, and to the uninitiated adult, the scene can be a little nauseating (this space is also noted for its stagnant air and organic-material messes; these students are indifferent to their immediate environment, as most people are when they’re buckling down to solve urgent problems). Sometimes one of them will bound into the office, spitting out a string of jargon that sounds to me like, “YAPBOPADOOBOPBIPBOPPA BAM!” and I don’t have a clue what they’re talking about, or even what they said, but the excitement is palpable, I can tell they’ve scored an epic win, and I’m happy for them. This is one of the most skilled, passionate, and engaged group at our school: the gamers.

The first video game I ever played, in 1990, was a side-scrolling 2D game, the kind in which the protagonist moves from left to right while the screen scrolls by, revealing as it does various obstacles and enemies to overcome and good things to grab. The popularity of this style of game has hardly diminished even as gaming technology has developed NASA-like precision and scope and expansive Tolkienesque narrative and imagery (see for example the nearly infinite detailed galaxy generated by the game No Man’s Sky). If you check out the screens in LE1, you’ll see lots of these “old-fashioned” side-scrolling games. Why? The style is analogous to a certain way of experiencing life: you move through it as it rolls inexorably onward, and manage obstacles as they come, developing one set of skills for avoiding them in the first place and another for overcoming them when they arise anyway. The more complex “open world” games expand the analogy by incorporating more of the complexity of real experience. Gaming is about life.

Computer and video games are controversial; because they don’t produce tangible results or products, they’re often criticized as being a waste of time and energy. But the world of gaming offers an arena in which many – perhaps all – of the most important skills can be acquired and practiced. In order to earn our Certificate of Graduation, a student must prove they have acquired the “problem solving skills, adaptability, and abilities necessary to succeed in whatever they are going onto next,” which is an excellent description of the process of gaming. Games essentially present a series of increasingly complex problems, each of which the gamer has to creatively solve before advancing to the next, which in turn will present some new twist that the gamer will have to adapt to. Without developing the ability to face the next challenge, the gamer will not be able to advance.

It’s notable that a few of our gamers also pursue the discipline of parkour, which is usually described as a sport or a movement-art. The idea is to move around obstacles as efficiently as possible, usually with points for style. Our own Traceurs have developed multiple techniques for climbing trees, depending on thickness, texture of bark, the availability of branches, and so on. They vault over rails and jump off platforms, rolling as they land. Moving this way through the landscape, they reclaim it, also claiming as they do confidence and vision. As they gain the skill necessary to succeed at one level, they eagerly take on the next. They remind me of the Taoist aphorism which admonishes us to “move like water;” they’re learning to flow around, under, and over obstacles gracefully. The stiffer you are, the more likely you are to fail (as I did when I shamefully fell out of a tree and sprained my ankle at school last September attempting to copy a move a student had just showed me). You want to be strong – but more importantly, mobile and agile, and learn to make natural forces your allies. These are some of the same types of skills at play in gaming. Of course, there is a difference in the stakes; in parkour, the practitioner has to take care not to advance too quickly or risk injury, whereas the worst outcome in gaming is (mostly) harmless failure. This quality of safety is the foundation for gaming’s potential as training ground, allowing gamers to take more risks. Parkour thus represents a kind of intermediate step between the pure training ground and “real life.”

But if gaming and parkour are primarily about overcoming obstacles efficiently, gamers don’t necessarily experience it this way. There’s a lot more going on. Recently when I asked them about why they game and what they like about it, they mostly shrugged their shoulders: “it’s fun,” was the most common response. “You mean it’s fun to operate in an arena wherein you have power and agency?” I asked. “I guess so,” they would say. The point is not that I’m full of bull, but just that the gamers are following their intuition and inclination. They aren’t gaming because they are being trained in creative problem solving, among other things; for them, the experience itself is the benefit. They’ll acknowledge additional benefits, and to be sure, I got some amazing answers when I pressed for them, such as, “you get to experience different physics and realities,” and “you get tools for your imagination,” but the skills garnered are secondary to the gamers. They’re just moving like water, at one with natural forces. They aren’t “putting another head on top of their own,” as the Taoists say, trying to do what they think they’re “supposed to be doing.” In other words, they’re doing it because they love it; and that’s the mode we all want people to be operating in, because we know that’s when we’re all the best versions of ourselves.

Now, this is an important part of the magic of gaming, and of Sudbury. I don’t think the gamers would enjoy themselves as much if their activity were framed as “training” or “work,” and they were compelled to do it. This is an important lesson that the concept of gaming in general has to teach us: the narrative you build around whatever you’re doing will dictate in large part how you experience it. These students are mastering the lightness of touch, the spirit of fun, and the detachment from the fruits of labour which “games” engender in those who play them. We can bring this very useful perspective to other parts of our life to perform better and solve real problems, even change the world. Want to start flossing every night? Size up your obstacles, and play around with them. Make a game out of it. You’ll be more likely to succeed if you approach it this way, rather than as an onerous burden. Want to save money at the grocery store and still eat well? Make it a game. Want to figure out how to live a carbon-zero life? Move like water, and make it a big game. It works pretty well.

Our gamers are a proud, passionate, and dedicated group. They do their work out of the spotlight. But they’re working hard, and getting better all the time, and we’re rooting for them. Go, gamers, go.

 

Hudson Valley Sudbury Basketball School

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[Ed. One of the questions often asked during our Open Houses is, “Do kids at a Sudbury School challenge themselves?”  Matthew address this question in the blog below.]

The Underdogs first game is on January 27th, 2016 at 3:30 at Donlon Gym (43 Partition Street, Saugerties, NY 12477).

This past Tuesday at 9:00 it was 18 degrees here on campus, not factoring in wind-chill…. It was windy. Most of us were right where you’d expect us to be, huddled up inside the building, working and playing. Our new basketball team, however, was training…. Outside.

In fact, they were lined up in the push-up position, balancing on one hand while dribbling a ball with the other. I watched them from the office, shaking my head in admiration and disbelief, as I have so many times this year.

The coach – Noa, a student – was walking slowly back and forth in front of them, his lips soundlessly chanting incantations to the basketball gods. I went outside to get a little closer to the action – the team’s energy drew me out there, as it has so many times this year. When I reached the court, though, they looked so dialed in that I pretended I was just walking by on my way to the mailbox.

As I passed, Noa broke the wintry silence, addressing his players: “Keep working. I promise you there isn’t another team in New York practicing outside today.” I’m sure he was right, and I’m sure there isn’t another basketball team in the state anything like ours at all, any time of any day. Maybe they haven’t played a game yet, but I’d say they must be the best team in the state.

Recently a parent told me that her son and husband had been taking boxing lessons from a coach in Kingston, and that the coach was “getting them to do things they would have never done otherwise.” She was implicitly questioning our school’s strict prohibition against requiring (or even coaxing) students to do anything in particular (or anything at all) with their time here.

She wanted more of the value that sometimes comes from being pushed, encouraged, and held accountable by a coach.

I couldn’t agree more that such value can be immense, but there’s a fundamental difference between asking to be pushed and trained and encouraged and having it thrust upon you. Her son has chosen to box with a coach, and that’s the basic reason his boxing is producing joy and energy in his life. Of course, the parent knew all this and really just wanted to talk it through. And I understand how the concern about a kid wasting his time doing what appears to be nothing can creep; it happens to me, even as a staff member of the school. And then things like “The Underdogs” happen that put me firmly back in my place and remind me that taking initiative – laying claim to and directing your own life – is maybe the most important thing, and commitment only flourishes unfettered by compulsion.

“The Underdogs” are our basketball team, of course. The name is simultaneously a misnomer and stunningly accurate. Accurate because no one on the team has really played much basketball at all before this year, and because they still have never played indoors together, and they’re…well, a little short.  But it’s a misnomer because they’re able to invest as much time and energy to the enterprise as they like here, they work as hard as any team out there, and, having created this together – as friends and partners – they’re a true team in the un pour tous, tous pour un sense of the Three Musketeers: a family acting strenuously towards a common goal.

I mean… when you make something from scratch, you invest your heart along with your time. When you, as a young person, choose a peer as your leader, rather than opt into an adult-led activity, you retain ownership and pride of purpose. Which is not in any way intended to say that seeking out adults for instruction is a bad thing; it’s often a good idea because adults generally have more knowledge by default.

In this particular case, though, the kids made a good choice. Noa is, as mentioned above, a student, and he’s 15, but as a coach he reads like he’s 35. His grasp of the sport, and his own skill in the diversions of the court, are consummate, and his passion for the project is intense. Noa has his sights set on college basketball, and the best way to master something is to teach it.

You wouldn’t ordinarily think of our school as a basketball school, but that’s one of the really cool things about us: we can be a basketball school, or any kind of school for that matter, if the students make us so.

These days, walk down our hall at 9:30 in the morning and you might see Noa on the phone, reprimanding a tardy player for not calling to notify him. Crack open the door to one of our side-rooms at 2:30 and you might see him delivering a teary-eyed speech on the value of stepping out of your comfort zone and grappling with the unknown. Or watch, like me, with admiration and disbelief as the players run to get water after a round of “suicides,” aiming to be back on the court in 30 seconds or less so as not to have to “do it all over again.” Watch them drill, and listen as Noa as he tells them that if they mess up… that’s evidence that they’re doing it right, that they’re working hard and pushing themselves to be better.

What I love the most about this team is how supportive it is of each player. The earnest encouragement they offer each other is a genuine motivator, and the jubilation they enjoy together when any one of them masters a skill energizes them all. These kids know each other well, of course, as they attend a school which doesn’t segregate kids by classes and ages. There’s this natural sort of tribal quality to the team that stems from their intimacy.. It’s just so damn fun! I coached a couple little league teams when I was in college, and I wish those teams had had that quality. The difference was that those kids didn’t know each other; they were meeting for the first time to play baseball… So it was harder for them to really come together.

So usually there’s an end of day scrimmage between the team and a few staff members, which has allowed me to keep intimate track of their progress, and the rate of improvement has been swift and steady across the board. At first, they wanted it bad, but their skill level wasn’t as fully developed as their desire. So, they played some pretty physical basketball. Hey, they did what they could… I’m 6’3”. And the rest of the staff is pretty ok. But that was weeks ago. Already the Underdogs are passing well. They’re boxing out. They’re setting screens. These kids are nailing their shots, folks. And they’re laughing. A lot! And… beating us….. Sometimes. They’ll be playing their first official game January 27rd at 3:30 pm. Underdogs, maybe. Best team in the state, definitely….

Happy, Healthy, Strong

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HVSS does not have an official mission statement; the closest we get is the text of our graduation process, which states that, in order to earn a Certificate of Graduation, a student must prove to a committee that s/he has gained the problem solving skills, adaptability, and abilities necessary to succeed in whatever they are going onto next. This is an imminently sensible goal, honoring as it does the natural richness of humanity by acknowledging that different people will want to live different kinds of lives, and they’ll have to do different things to prepare for it.

In this post, though, I would like to float another possibility for a mission statement (not for serious consideration, just to offer another way of thinking about HVSS): HVSS’ mission is to safeguard our students’ right to be happy, healthy, and strong, however they define those preeminent states of being in and for themselves. This might make more sense as a mission statement than the language in the Cert/Grad process, because the school’s role is to maintain the environment and manage resources; we don’t actually teach our students skill sets, problem-solving, or how to adapt to new circumstances. Acquiring those kinds of things is just what happy, healthy, strong people do.

This new mission statement occurred to me recently when I was looking around school and noticing just how — well, happy, healthy, and strong everybody looked. We often talk about how capable our students become, but usually in reference to the intangible skills they build while managing the responsibility of being a student here. We don’t talk much about how our school’s program actually supports our students’ health; maybe we just take it for granted.

So it was this beautiful, sunny, warm day, and nearly everyone was outside, where people should be, especially when it’s sunny and warm. I was thinking about how I needed to produce a blog post sometime soon or risk disappointing Vanessa, and I was witnessing an amazing variety of movement while I strolled around trying to come up with something new to point out to show what an amazing place this is. I saw students slacklining, using our obstacle course, working out with the gymnastic rings, brachiating on the swingset, dancing on our outdoor stage, stalking across the front lawn like animals (big cats?), playing basketball, sword-fighting, and riding bikes – all in the course of maybe three minutes. Our students, freed from the confines of rigid desks and boring playgrounds, and with unlimited access to the outdoors, move in incredible ways all the time, building their strength, developing balance and agility, and engaging their bodies in the ways they were meant to be engaged. A group of about ten younger students is also making regular trip to The Jungle, where they practice parkour and circus arts. There’s usually a rich layer of social context heaped on top of the movement here, too, whether it’s narrative, team dynamics, or artistic statement, and we usually focus on that layer when we talk about the benefits of all the action, but I’m more and more interested in what the movement itself is doing for our students. Even when they sit down here, they’re able to ditch the typical chair/table arrangement and opt for more natural positions. And this isn’t merely about being physically fit or even free and happy either: the human brain has actually developed to engage and control complex movement. Over 50% of the brain is dedicated to movement capacity. The changes in our postural style, and the increasingly sedentary lifestyle of some sectors of the population over the last 10,000 years has led to diminished emotional and imaginative capacities – it’s actually changed our feelings and thoughts. So by limiting the opportunity for movement in our educational system, we’re not doing kids any favors, and we’re not making anyone any smarter. Because we learn new movement via “mirror” neurons, it’s even true that the less movement we see in our environment, the less our brain is stimulated. Dr. John Ratey of Harvard Medical School says that body movement stimulation is also responsible for the maintenance of executive functions like sequencing, recalling memory, prioritization, and sustaining and inhibiting attention. It’s the twenty-first century; the brain and the body are one.

When some people come to our campus and find our building basically empty and our outdoor spaces bustling with activity, what they think they see is kids wasting their time. When I look around, what I see are young apes stimulating ancient patterns programed into their brains and becoming the robust, well-rounded organisms they were meant to be. So next time someone asks you if you’re worried that your kid isn’t learning their lessons as in a typical classroom, tell them, “no, they’re too busy becoming happy, healthy, and strong for that stuff.” And then go ask your kid to take you to the park and show you a move.

Apprentice Learning

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Apprentice Style Learning at HVSS

One of the most effective ways of learning a new skill is through an apprenticeship.  This style of learning is essential to a Sudbury model school and is practiced naturally all day, every day.  This blog entry gives a couple examples of this style of learning in action.

In love with The Law

This year our Law Clerk is Eli, a 14 year old lifelong Sudburian.  “I’m interested in the whole field of law,” Eli says, “but mostly in criminal defense.  I want to see systems work… I like it when there are well defined processes to follow.”

A couple weeks ago Eli shadowed a Public Defender in New Paltz.  “Andy explained that defense attorneys don’t defend people; they defend people’s rights, which is a good way to think about it,” Eli says.  He was invited to sit in the witness chair while plea bargains were worked out, and he was allowed to attend private meetings with clients.  “It was very interesting because it’s a thing that normally you don’t get to see if you’re anyone other than the defender.  I also got to watch them test out a new device they have for people on probation.  It’s a little hand-held device the probationer breathes into once a day, and it has facial recognition software so it will catch it if it’s not the right person doing the test.  They also have one that straps onto an ankle and the second you consume any alcohol it sends a signal to the courthouse…The courthouse was full.  Most of the cases were DUIs and drug use.”  As Law Clerk, Eli has been working on clarifying the procedures of JC and the trial process; it’s been stressful, but rewarding.  He’s looking forward to setting up a schedule to shadow Andy regularly.

]It Takes a Lot to Run a Store

We have a small school store at HVSS which sells snacks and other sundries.  Last week two of our youngest students – Mae, age 5, and Macey, also 5, decided to begin the difficult process of becoming certified to run the store.  They took to the task eagerly, mentored by Shelley and Vanessa.  They have been working on looking up prices, counting money, and carefully filling out the store ledger.  They have practice sheets, and have been asking students and staff to pretend to buy things so they can fill them out.  How long will it take to gain full certification? “Probably a long, long time,” says Mae, “we have to learn more about money and writing first…and we really need to work on drawing our ‘2s.’”  What does Macey think the pair need to focus on next? “Practicing money, and doing the numbers.”  And where does their motivation come from?  Macey says,”it’s fun,” and Mae adds,  “we don’t want to bother people to open the store for us – we want to do it ourselves,” 

Sacred Acorns

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There are times that I stumble upon an activity at the Hudson Valley Sudbury School that make my jaw drop in awe of the brilliance of children: their creativity, their simplicity, and their ingenuity. Coming upon The Sacred Acorn Civilization was one of those moments. I stood at the edge of our natural play-scape wide-eyed as I surveyed several young barefoot boys busily collecting acorns, carefully balancing bark, and finding perfect natural tools to build a civilization. Set amongst several stumps on a gradual hill, were intricate acorn and stick sculptures – balconies, huts, stone paths, and walls, all perfectly set in miniature style. It was beautiful. And it was clear these boys had been there for hours, not only by the exacting work they had done, but also by the dirt between their toes, the seats of their pants, and the expressions of their faces – calm and focused. The language they were using sounded to be a different dialect, familiar yet foreign.

Finally I was able to catch my breath. “What are you doing?” I asked. The response comes matter-of-factly: “We are currently mucking acorns. That’s taking the inside out. And then we put them in the Muck Store. You can smash them with rocks or hard sticks to get the goop out. We call it “mucking.” We try to smash them between two rocks so it doesn’t destroy the stumps. The lighter the goop the better it is. We use the muck as a building material, to keep things together.” With that they went back to work, gathering, crushing and balancing, young primitive workers using natural materials to create a culture.

 am not sure why I was surprised to come across this bustling civilization as it seems to be something each generation of children create at here at school. The first HVSS civilization popped up in 2005 and took over the majority of the playing field. Several kids had their own “worlds” built from rocks, dirt, sticks, moss, flowers, and acorns. In the center of the field there was a circular general store where items were available for trade or purchase. Hours were dedicated to perfecting homes and working out the delicate balance of trading.

The following year the back hill was home to a new miniature world. Two boys around the age of 10 began this new rendition and the general ideas were the same. They were quite literally the kings of the hill, decreeing trading values and where homes could be built. But after discovering a large shiny rock at the edge of the woods a 6 year old was able to “buy” the entire hillside from them and the power was re-distributed. The kids involved in these first two renditions have either graduated or are on the verge of doing so and the details of these games are but distant memories.

In 2008 a new set of children went back to their roots and collected acorns, mashed them up and made hand cream out of them. They sold the cream to others in the school. They also made cities, houses, and bowls from the acorn shells and little cities out of acorns and sticks. One participant looked back, “we had little jobs, you could crack the nuts with a flat rock or chop them if you could find a sharp stick. We would also use a round rock and stick like a mortar and pestle, adding a little bit of water and mushed up flowers.”

After a significant rainfall in 2011, the back gravel path was turned into a study of irrigation. A young girl made intricate paths in the stone, routing and rerouting the water. She created these streams, damns, and collection pools while barefoot, grounded by the earth, just like our ancestors.

Here we are in 2015, an age of technology and consumerism, and a new round of children have their toes in the dirt, discovering for themselves how we as a society began, by making tools, building with what is naturally available, creating commerce out of acorns, and teaching their elders to reconnect with the beauty of the world around us.

Why is this universal? Why do we, as a society, without being trained, without being taught, always come back to the most basic constructs of life? It becomes clear how innate it is to collaborate in the art of foraging, designing, and building. Their ingenuity when it comes to the creation of tools is both resourceful and creative. And there they sit, in a sustained and focused activity, perfecting the balance of bark and rock to create a balcony. They may have iPods sticking out of the back pocket of their Gap jeans, but these kids are connected to their roots, not indirectly, by lecture or assignment, but directly, by sensory experience and imagination, because they have the time and space to connect to the natural world and let the simplicity of life shine through.

To What Will They Return?

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The best thing about working “in education” is, undoubtedly, the summer. Oh wait, I mean the kids – the best thing is the kids. Wellllll, no – sorry! – it’s the summer, as much as I do love the kids (at least when I’m not responsible for the choices they make, the lessons they learn, the things they say, and the thoughts they think!) For me, having this uninterrupted time to immerse myself in interests and friends old and new, deepen my connection to my home, neighborhood, and region, travel, keep hours regular or irregular, and be with family, is a treasure I guard most jealously; it is a great, fatty, nourishing privilege. For me, just as it is for many children, summer is the Land of Space and Time Enough, which really is the only land fit for human habitation. Each year, I have the space and time to connect with what’s really happening in my inner life; I can let the changes which constantly brew there wash over me. I can, like the flora, exult in a state of robust health and growth. Having significant time in which to direct my own activity makes me feel very, very rich indeed, and in possession of myself, or, to put it slightly differently, free.

Everyone deserves the degree of balance which working in education can afford, but unfortunately few careers offer it (even though there is ample evidence to suggest the world is rich enough to offer it to everyone). However, those in the partner-career to education – namely, children – may also easily integrate this gift into their lives. It is hard to ignore the deluge of data, and the subsequent media coverage, showing the extensive benefits for kids of having mostly “free” summers unfettered by adult-initiated and regulated activity: kids deepen friendships and develop emotional intelligence, work creatively with their imagination, broaden and deepen their knowledge base, learn new skills, stay physically fit, and bolster their executive functions. They are afforded the opportunity to grow at their own pace and focus intuitively on the tasks they ought to. Free from harassment, they are able to absorb and integrate the changes in their internal lives. And, oh yeah, they seem to enjoy it. A lot.

They are afforded the opportunity to grow at their own pace and focus intuitively on the tasks they ought to. Free from harassment, they are able to absorb and integrate the changes in their internal lives.

The heavy-scheduling and “helicopter-parenting” of Americans has provoked this counter-trend of “throw-back” summers. And surely it’s a good thing, but – to what do kids return when summer is over? An outdated model of education firmly based on instruction and authority which does not recognize their sovereignty and intelligence? For most of them, well, yes.

Of course, our students do not return to any such thing. Here, we can think of summer as a time to “go out in the field,” a time for independent study, if you will, and the school year is a time to “come back in,” a time to be immersed in equitable community and collective activity. We secure for our students the continued responsibility and freedom of a “free” summer. The rule remains basically the same: each kid directs their own activity, unmolested by any adult’s agenda. The difference is that here everyone has to be cognizant of directing their activity within a community of 80 or so other free people, and doing that well requires a lot of reflection and care. The resources are also different. In returning here from the summer, our students exchange mobility for those 80 people, along with all the riches of their minds and spirits. Many of our students exchange the impressionism of following whims for the realism of collaborative projects. And they exchange their status as a subject in a home for status as a legislator, judge, and executive in a democratic community (during the school day). One resource which remains constant for our students from summer to school year is constant access to the outdoors; that, also, is not withdrawn here. Personally, that fact alone might be enough to convince me to enroll my children at a school.

So, I’m really grateful that the “free” summer trend is growing, and I appreciate it as an integral part of a “Sudbury” childhood. It is my hope that families will continue to embrace it, and also ask themselves more and more earnestly, “but to what will they return when the summer is over? What would a school which builds on this look like?” Enjoy the rest of your summer. Store up that D. I’m looking forward to seeing everyone real soon.