The Growth of a Sudbury School

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While we have not yet started to make a big deal of it (yet – just wait), we are fast approaching the 10th anniversary of the first day of school in our building on Zena Road.   Between now and June 14th, I will be writing some blogs that will provide some history of the school.  In this first installment, I will discuss the school’s enrollment.  This particular topic is in the forefront in my mind because we are starting to face one those good news/bad news situations.  The good news is that we have the highest enrollment since the very beginning of the school.  The bad news is that is looks like we will have to start thinking seriously about how we handle a waiting list.

For those who don’t know some of the details of the early years, I will provide a bit of history before I get to the topic of enrollment.  My wife Lisa and I started to talk about starting a Sudbury school in late summer of 2001.  Once we decided that we were going to make it happen, we started talking to our friends about the idea.  Most of them, while wishing us well, did not want to get involved in the project.  Three other couples, however, did like the idea of the school and joined us in the effort to build it.  We had weekly meetings at our house and eventually went public with the idea.  There was a nice article written in the Woodstock Times along with a full page advertisement.  This generated enough interest that our first information meeting at the Woodstock Town Hall was standing room only.  Clearly there was dissatisfaction with the existing educational options!  Once everyone understood what we were attempting to build, most of the people in attendance decided that this was not the type of education for them.  Some, however, loved the idea and joined our founding group.

During the initial founding period, Lisa noticed that there was a large parcel of land for sale on Zena Road.  The location was perfect for a school – easily accessible and in a beautiful setting.  At the time, property values in Woodstock were still depressed so we were able to purchase the land for a very reasonable amount.  We now had the location for the school.  There was only one problem – we would need a significant amount of time to build the school building and we felt that it was important to keep the momentum going and start the school as soon as possible.  So we started to look for place that we could rent for a couple years while the building was designed, approved by the town planning board and then built.

We settled on a commercial property on Basin Road (just the other side of Route 28 from the current school location).  We contracted with the owner and in the late summer of 2002, we had a place to open the school.

As mentioned earlier, there appeared to be a huge pent up demand for some type of alternate education in the Woodstock area.  We were inundated with phone calls and emails asking about the school.  Most of these were very positive, but it was clear that there was limited understanding about how the school would actually operate.  Try as we might to paint the picture, it is really impossible to communicate what a Sudbury school looks like to someone who has never experienced a democratically operated school with no set curriculum and where the students are free to associate with whom they choose.  This pent up demand resulted in us opening the first year at Basin Road with a total enrollment of 62 students.  Within a week, we had 67 students.  Unfortunately, shortly after we opened, we were informed by the local building inspector that the building that we were renting did not meet the criteria necessary for a school.  We made the very painful decision to close the school and focus our energy on getting the Zena Road building built.

The process of building the Zena Road building took approximately 18 months.  As anyone who has ever attempted to build a 5,000 sq. ft. building that meets the construction requirements for a school on a rocky, forested lot in a town with a reputation for making it difficult to do new construction knows, this was amazingly quick.  As we got near the end of the construction the remaining founding group had a decision to make.  It looked like we would get the Certificate of Occupancy in mid-June.  Should we start the school for the last week or two of the school year or wait until the fall?  We decided that we would open the school – even if it was only for two weeks – so that the parents and students who had stuck with us through the process would have something.  So, on June 14th, 2004 I picked up the Certificate of Occupancy from the town building department and we opened the doors.

When we opened on June 14th, 2004 we started with around 25 students.  What happened to the other 42 who used to be enrolled?  Most of them had found other places to go to school in the time that we closed and were satisfied enough with those places that they did not want to come back to HVSS.  More significantly, however, we had a much better idea of how to describe the school and the community had a much better idea of what we meant when we said, “no curriculum”.  Whereas before, people didn’t really believe that we really meant no curriculum, they now knew that we were serious about it.

In the beginning of the school’s history at Zena Road, it became clear to the staff that there were two types of students who enrolled at the school.  There was the group of students and parents who really understood (or understood enough) about the school to make an informed decision that this was the type of school that they wanted.  There was also the group of students who were simply escaping their previous school or educational environment.  For this group of students, it was not about “coming to” HVSS, it was about “not going to” someplace else.  These “escapee” students would almost never continue to stay enrolled.  They were “one and done” students.  This resulted in a huge year-to-year turnover.  A typical school year would start with 35 students and end with 45 to 50 students.  The “one and done” students would not re-enroll and the next year we would be back to around 35 students.

In an attempt to limit the number of “one and done” students, the staff worked to develop ways to communicate how the school operated.  This effort started to pay off roughly 3 to 4 years ago.  At this point the year-to-year retention rate[1], started to change from roughly 75% to greater than 90%.  This increase in retention rate then started to have an impact on the school’s enrollment.  A couple days ago, Shelley told me that we had reached an enrollment of 62 students.  As of this writing, she also has 6 enrollment interviews scheduled.  It appears as if, 10 years after we re-started the school at 84 Zena Road, we are close to matching the enrollment that we had in the heady first days on Basin Road.

There is a huge difference, however, between now and then.  Now, we have students and parents who “get” the school and who understand that it is about freedom with responsibility instead of freedom from responsibility.  Now, we have two staff members with 10 years of experience, one with 6 years of experience, one with almost 3 years, and two new staff members who have fit seamlessly into the school and who are already making huge contributions to the school.  Then, we had 6 staff members who were trying to figure out how to create a culture they had never experienced.  Now, we have a group of parents who are dedicated and devoted to helping the school through fundraising and through building a community among the parents.

Ten years ago, when we opened the doors, I don’t think any of us could have predicted what would happen.  If asked, then, whether we thought we would still be in existence ten year later, I don’t know what the answer would have been.  Looking 10 years into the future, I see some enormous challenges ahead.  I take personal comfort, however, that at the start of this next 10 year period we have a great group of students, staff and parents.  I know that working together we will be able to successfully face any challenges that we encounter along the way.

 

[1] We define year-to-year retention rate as the number of students who re-enroll in September divided by the number of students able to re-enroll.  Students who move out of the area or who graduate are not counted.

The Education of a Sudbury Staff Member

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Recently, our fledgling Gardening Coop put on a milkshake sale to raise money for seeds.  Being the only staff member involved with the coop, I was the default pointman, because we needed someone who could drive to go out and buy the ice cream, use the school debit card, oversee the use of our new blender which the kitchen coop decided not to make available for general use due to unusually frightening bladeage, etc.  So, a milkshake sale:  no planning required, I thought, I am a competent adult, I could run a milkshake sale without taking my eyes off Facebook for a moment, and besides, I’m not even running it, I’m just in charge of a few details.  But the sale quickly turned into an exploration of my own idiocy as well as – more importantly – an illustration of one way HVSS educates.

My first mistake, albeit a minor one, was disconcerting.  At Stewarts, I quickly and efficiently located a freezer which contained ice cream.  Scanning through the selection, I didn’t see either of the flavors we had advertised on offer.  An icy finger drew across my gut: was the ship already – and so easily – sunk?  I phoned the school and asked to speak with the president of the Coop, who is 11 going on 19.  “Matthew,” he told me, “it’s ok – there’s another, much larger freezer in the store.  It has the chocolate and the mint cookie; I wouldn’t have offered those flavors if they weren’t available.”  Clever, I thought to myself, while I thanked him and promised success.  Then, standing in front of the correct freezer, I realized I had made another error by failing to calculate just how much ice cream and milk we needed.  I knew we had 32 people signed up to buy milkshakes, so I did some quick and shoddy calculations and decided to buy 3 gallons of ice cream and 1.5 gallons of milk.  I returned to the school, rounded up the milkshake crew, and we discussed our plan for production and distribution.  I had asked the School Store Clerk to use cups from there, and she had generously agreed but added that next time I ought to get my own cups.  The cups were small – maybe 6 oz, and they were paper – pretty wimpy – but I figured that was the appropriate size because we were only charging $2 for a milkshake, and I wanted to make a handsome profit.  The three students in the fundraising crew were dumbfounded: “Matthew, do you think we’re making milkshakes for little babies?” “Matthew, that’s a $1 milkshake, or maybe a 50 cent milkshake; I would drink that in one little sip.”  “Matthew, that’s not going to work, people won’t pay, are you serious?”  They were right, of course; I looked at the cup in my hand and, after their onslaught, it looked like a thimble.  “Haha,” I laughed nervously, “I guess I’ll run back to the store.”  “Yeah, go back, Matthew.  Hurry up.”

When I returned with respectable cups, we had about half an hour before School Meeting.  No sweat, I thought, plenty of time – milk shakes, right?  We hit our next problem immediately: I had bought “Death by Chocolate” instead of “Chocolate,” because I figured that anyone who wanted “Chocolate” would rather have “Death by Chocolate.”  The moment a student looked at the carton she said, “Matthew this has nuts in it. Everyone who gets one of these will need to abide by the nut policy.”  “Jeez,” I said, “man, that didn’t occur to me.  We’ll just have to tell everyone they need to abide by the policy, I guess.”  But that wasn’t the only issue with Death by Chocolate.  The first person to whom we offered a Death by Chocolate milkshake took a little taste, handed it back, and said, “I don’t want that.”  “Why not?”  “I want a chocolate milkshake,” she said.  Uh-oh.  Most customers who had signed up for Chocolate did accept the Death by Chocolate milkshakes, but a few turned them down, and in the process we learned – based on my mistake –  a lesson on the importance of delivering what you advertise and doing what you say you will.  People who are expecting a certain milkshake will daydream about that milkshake and look forward to it eagerly.  To disappoint them is no pleasant procedure.

We had more lessons coming too, thanks to me.  The three students I was working with had developed an efficient system for production and delivery, with one student and myself blending, one student running the milkshakes, and one student keeping records of who had been delivered a milkshake, who owed money, etc.  Yet, we were closing in on School Meeting, and – particularly because our operation involved both the chair and the secretary of the meeting – we needed to finish fast.  We were also running out of ice cream, due to the shoddy calculations and the last-minute cup change.  We had to act quickly and decisively.  We had a pow wow and decided to serve the final 8 or so customers half milkshakes and charge $1, with our apologies.  That would solve all our logistical problems; we’d have to cut our losses with disappointed customers.  We wrapped up and headed down to School Meeting, talking about how we’d have a meeting before our next fundraiser to organize and plan, and to make sure that “Matthew knows what he’s doing.”  

Sitting in School Meeting, I reflected on what had just happened.  I was embarrassed for my errors, but I was impressed with the way the rest of the crew had come together to bail me out, thinking on their feet.  And now we know the importance of setting aside time to plan and think through even simple events, and to ensure there will be enough time to successfully carry out the plan in the event we hit unexpected obstacles.  And, I was grateful for the easy forgiveness of the rest of the crew.  As a teacher in a traditional school, I guarded carefully against mistakes.  Within the traditional paradigm, the adults, invested with arbitrary authority, are tacitly declared to be infallible, or nearly so.  When I would make a mistake in the classroom, inevitably someone would take the opportunity to attack that chink in the armor of the system – brutal, but just, considering how dehumanizing it is to be a student within that paradigm.  But here at HVSS – where we work within a paradigm fearlessly based on trust, respect, and freedom – after making a series of mistakes, when I apologized to the three students I was working with, they told me, in so many words, “it’s ok, Matthew, don’t worry, we did fine, and anyway, this is how you learn.”

 

There and Back Again: through Sudbury’s doors

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I have recently become a volunteer and substitute staff member for HVSS. Since I’ve been at the school, memories that I had not thought of for many years have resurfaced.

When I was seven, I found myself at the Sudbury Valley School, in Framingham MA, and knew I had found the perfect school for me. I spent the next four years there. During my time there I was the free to play and be a kid. I played all day, everyday. I learned by asking others for help when I needed it, by being in a social environment with peers of all ages, by being hands-on in the art room, and by participating in a fully democratic society. Whenever I tried to force myself to learn something because my parents told me I had to, the attempt inevitability failed.

Now, fifteen years later I am witnessing kids going through that same process. While I watch and interact with students, moments come back to me. When I visited the Judicial Committee, I saw people serving their time. Some were focused, because they knew it was their responsibility, while others were wiggling to get free, so they could go play. I remembered my time, as a wiggling kid; when a big case came in I would stop wiggling and focus because I knew my vote might determine whether or not the case was referred to school meeting where the student might get suspended or expelled.  Another time was when my sister asked me to go easy on a friend of hers who had been written up.  When it came time to vote, I didn’t know what to do; help her friend or choose the punishment I thought most fitting? Serving on JC is where I started to learn wrong and right because it tested my morals at a young age. I cared because I had an equal share of power at a time where no where else in my life was that true. I took it seriously.

 

Serving on JC is where I started to learn wrong and right because it tested my morals at a young age. I cared because I had an equal share of power at a time where no where else in my life was that true. I took it seriously.

 

Being on the other side of this system is still surreal for me. I find myself more frequently interacting with students who are just a little older (12 and older) than I was when I left SVS. This might be because I knew a few of them from outside of school because they go to the summer camp I work for, but I think that there has to be more to it than that. When I look around, I notice that this group is interacting a lot with all the staff. This also brought some memories of my friends during my last year at the Sudbury Valley School. We were starting to grow apart – I was not interested is hanging out with the older kids; I still wanted to play make believe all day. As my friends sought out older friends, they also seemed to be taking a greater interest in the staff as well. As a group of younger students we normally only asked the staff for things if we had to (to certify us, to heat up lunches, and spell things), but as my friends grew tried of playing pretend they wanted to know more hard facts, and that is when they started to set up times to sit down and learn form the staff, or have meals and conversations with them. And, though the group at HVSS still plays all kinds of games to their hearts content, I am also seeing the eagerness for more knowledge emerge.

The best part of attending or working at Sudbury is the commitment to a project. When a student decides they want to do something, they’re all in. I remember wanting to perform, and for every talent show I would be in a dance (it was one of the few ongoing classes at SVS) or I would find Mark, the staff member in charge of the music room, and he would assemble a band and help me (and my friends) rehearse. And we would until we had it down. Currently, I’m working with the HVSS students on a play and they are, in true Sudbury fashion, committed and working hard nearly everyday. At first I was nervous because we had less time to put the show together then I would like, but they’re progressing swiftly because they want to be there and want to do the work.

It is different going to a new Sudbury School and being there as staff, but the more I think about it the more I think it is only because there are different people here. It’s the same model, but a different community, and it’s a diverse community. The variations in personalities surrounding you at HVSS are what really make it a wonderful place to be.

Sudbury and the Quarter-life Crisis

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Recently my wife’s best friend came up for a visit from The City.  At some point in one of our conversations, the three of us began smugly deriding middle-class college graduates in the 22-25 age bracket.  We agreed that, generally speaking, we find them to be tediously indecisive most of the time and exasperatingly poor decision-makers the rest of the time.  Many of them seem to have scant information but firm opinions.  They want to delay difficult and rewarding commitments (and to continue to have lots of fun all the time) yet they want to be taken seriously.  They spend a lot of time and energy comparing themselves to their peers.  They daydream of doing something wild and intense, like joining the Peace Corps, becoming a Zen monk, or sailing around the globe in a dinghy, and some of them eventually get around to doing it, too, usually without really knowing why.  I ended up taking a plunge like that myself, so you see, I speak of this because I know.  Perhaps what middle class youngsters really want is just to be free to explore our world and create our lives on our own terms, but by the time we are released from our schooling many of us are ill equipped to do that in a way that leads to a life we want to call our own.   No adult at my high school or college ever talked with me about it; instead I was always advised to “follow my passion,” all the while staying in school, and trusting the system. Now I wish I was advised to take my passion with me into a field where I could make a living. More significant than any explicit advise I received was the atmospheric sense – the social suggestion – that I was securely installed on some sort of track to a successful life, like a passenger riding on an autopilotically flown craft.  Well, it wasn’t true; it’s necessary to struggle to gain some self-knowledge, think carefully, make difficult decisions, and work hard to create your own life. 

So how does this story about the quarter-life crisis relate to HVSS? First, a disclaimer: this is a theoretical and anecdotal post.  As most of you know, I am a new staff member this year, and I don’t know many HVSS graduates personally.  The school is still so new there aren’t many graduate anyway.  But, I did recently catch up with HVSS’s first graduate, Alex Delia, now 26, to see what he’s up been up to lately, and I wasn’t disappointed, to say the least.  

Since graduating, Alex has started a successful recycling business – Mr. e-Waste, based in Hudson.  He says, “it was a crash course, really sink or swim kind of thing…and I’m swimming.”  When I spoke with Alex he was in Chicago at the airport, preparing to fly home from a business trip he spent working to identify oxidized metals in the waste-stream of a local company.  He thinks it could become a lucrative partnership.  He’s also trying to get Mr. e-Waste on autopilot so he can explore metal trading and recycling solutions.  Alex never attended a traditional school (though he has been inside of a few as a recycling contractor).  I asked him how – if at all – his Sudbury education was helping him succeed so impressively.  He didn’t mention any content he studied, or projects he worked on, or accolades he earned.  He said, “I learned how to be really present with myself, and therefore with others – to be open and receptive.  Basically, to communicate well.  I had a lot of opportunities to sit down with people, talk things over, and figure out how to work together to make things happen.”

 Alex said that things he has struggled with in the past – like reading and spelling, have become strengths as he has built his business over the last several years.  Alex didn’t go to college; he felt he had a choice in the matter, that he was independent – a free agent rather than “a slave.”  He says, “my own choices have covered me in a lot of paperwork, but that’s been fine, because I’ve chosen this, and I’m passionate about it.”  He’s entertaining the idea of going to college sometime soon and pointed out that -having waited – he thinks it will be more beneficial than if he had gone when he was 18.  If he does end up going now, he’ll study accounting, chemistry, and maybe engineering – skill sets that will help him continue to develop his business.  

Finally, I asked him for his take on the “quarter-life crisis.”  He paused, and then said, “well, if there is a quarter-life crisis for me, it’s figuring out how to make my business as beneficial to my community – and particularly the impoverished people within it – as possible.”

One way of thinking about Sudbury that I find helpful is to consider enrolling as beginning now.  At this point in history, life is extremely complex.  Waiting to plunge in – holding back from beginning until a quarter of life is in the books – can be a massive setback.  Allowing kids the responsibility to live their lives is scary, and it can be messy, but that’s why we call it education.

State of the School

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Greetings, Members of the Assembly and its Trustees, School Meeting and its Officers, and friends and dissidents alike. It is my great honor as Chief of Blogging Operations to report to you tonight on the State of Hudson Valley Sudbury School.

I would like to suggest that perhaps – just maybe – if more of our nation’s children had the freedom, trust, and responsibility that students at HVSS have, other addresses given this week assessing states of affairs might have been more honestly positive.  Perhaps, if children and teenagers were respected as complete human beings – inexperienced, but complete as they are at any age (imagine!) – many, many problems  assaulting our nation and our earth would begin to soften and diminish.  HVSS does not pay lip service to the aforementioned “freedom, trust, and responsibility,” nor are they merely glittering generalities at our school: they actually form the foundation of the school: no compulsory curriculum, the freedom to move about the campus and interact with anyone of any age all day, and the responsibility of making good decisions about how to spend the school day.

As per usual, there’s a lot of activity at school these days.  At the moment, there is a sophisticated production of a play underway with the assistance of our new volunteer Trine Boode of the Wayfinder Experience.  A script for a dramatic movie was written recently by a group of students, and production is planned for warmer weather.  Cooking and language classes have been organized and carried out, and we appreciate very much our Assembly members who have agreed to offer their expert instruction.  New Cooperatives have been formed, including a Source Coop, which has helped to organize classes and field trips.  A Gardening Coop – which is gearing up for spring – was formed in response to the donation of our beautiful garden area.  More recently students have reestablished a Music Coop and a Photography Coop.  A few of our older students are busy preparing for Regents Exams, which they need to take to earn diplomas. School here is just feeling good.

On the first day of school this year, we had 50 students enrolled.  Today, we have 59.  We have conducted over 20 interviews with prospective students, many of them aged four and looking to enter a school next year.   Our Open House this month was packed, and the response was very good.  There were several families in attendance considering moving from outside the region in order to have access to the school.   Thank you to all our Assembly members who recommend HVSS among their friends and in their communities; word of mouth is the most effective advertising for a place for this. There is energy swirling around us these days: people are calling every day, setting up interviews, asking to visit the school, asking someone to visit them, etc.  We are in a growing kind of mood: recently an Expansion Committee was formed to develop ideas and establish subcommittees for a preschool, campus expansion, summer camp, and after school child and adult ed programs.  As Barack Obama said in his 2013 address, “if we act together, there is nothing we cannot achieve.” Lucky for us, we have a strong (and small) enough community to actually act together.  From what I understand from my studies of HVSS history, that’s what’s gotten the school to this point already. 

We’ve been getting some good press elsewhere, too.  Did you see Jeff’s interview in the Chronogram?  The monthly Music Nights at the Old Glenford Church have given the school a very solid standing and reputation for quality in the Woodstock community.  Our Winter Gift Sale was elegant, well attended, and very well stocked with beautiful and handmade local craft items.  Our first print ad in several years appeared in the most recent issue of GoodLife Youth Journal.  Also, I recommend the article on Sudbury Valley School in the New Republic.

I’d like to also share this report from the Finance Committee, too: The Assembly created an excellent budget last May, which is serving the school very well this school year. Our expenses are streamlined, tuition is affordable, and we’ve been able to offer financial aid to every qualified family who requested it. This latter point is very important to us; to be a private school, but easily accessible. Our desire is for any family who is interested in our model of education to be able to enroll. We would like to recognize and say thank you to the Fundraising Committee for their efforts, without which we would not be able to realize this goal. Their energy, creativity, resources and constant effort throughout the year are essential, and the efforts of all who participate in fundraising events is very much appreciated.  I’d like to add that the wide, coordinated group efforts being made lend me a grand feeling, and I believe that our community members so willingly – even eagerly – make these efforts because we believe that what we are doing is vitally important, that we have, as George H.W. Bush said in his 1991 address, “a shining purpose, the illumination of a thousand points of light.”

We would also like to recognize the Financial Aid Committee.  This committee has the job of working with families who apply for tuition assistance, examining the family’s financial statements and then preparing a Financial Aid proposal for the family.

Looking forward, progress is being made on the long term plans we have in place, and steps are being taken to improve the financial well-being of the school. One thing we’re very excited about is that we will be investing some of our reserve funds into short term CDs, so that we can begin to realize more substantial interest earnings. Acquisition of the CDs will be staggered, so that funds remain easily accessible. Our reserve account is growing, slowly but steadily, and is on track to become a reliable source of funding for the long term maintenance of our facilities, as well as for managing unexpected expenses. Some projects that are in the works and will be accomplished in collaboration with other Officers include:

  • More proactive marketing of building rental to individuals and groups during non-school hours
  • Establishment of an Expansion Fund account
  • Publication of a handy guide that describes simple ways to contribute to the school. Many of us know that the school is an Amazon affiliate, but did you know that you can get an HVSS credit card where the school receives a small percentage of every purchase you make? Last year the school received $662 from this program, and that was with only two families participating – imagine what that number could be if more people signed up! When you receive the guide later this year, please be sure to read it and take advantage of the ways in which the school can benefit, at no cost to you, but as a result of your participation.

One area where we have made improvement but we need to remain focused is staff salaries. We have attracted a great staff of amazing, creative, dedicated individuals who care deeply about our children, the school community, and the philosophy of the school, and who run the school effectively and efficiently. We don’t want to lose these individuals because the income we offer is insufficient. We want to bring our salaries up to a level that is closer to what individuals with similar responsibilities earn in other educational settings.

In closing, I’d like to go way back to the beginning of our country, and quote our very first President in his 1790 State of the Union speech (again, with substitution): “The welfare of our School is the great object to which our cares and efforts ought to be directed, and I shall derive great satisfaction from a cooperation with you in the pleasing though arduous task of insuring our children the blessings which they have the right to expect: educational freedom, and equal voice in governance.”  Thank you again to everyone who contributes to HVSS, and let’s have a great year. 

Why are you sponsoring that motion, Matthew?

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Last Thursday as I put together the School Meeting Agenda I noticed that it was thin – it outlined what would surely be a quick and boring meeting.  I wanted something more interesting, so I thoughtlessly sponsored a motion to ban the use of smart phones, tablets, and similar devices at school, chuckling to myself.  I posted the agenda in the Lounge Extension, and went about my day.  Soon, students began addressing me, “Why the hell are you sponsoring that motion, Matthew?”  To some I answered with another self-satisfied chuckle, to some I said, “I don’t really support it, but I will argue for it,” and once I even said, “Because I think it’s something we should do.”  Later, sitting in JC, I heard an extended clamor out in the lounge (and, sure enough, the following day JC would process a complaint about a mob whipping up opposition to the motion in a “disturbingly noisy” fashion), and a five year old girl cautiously entered JC to inform me that the motion I had made “was making people cry.”  She also said that personally she was upset because she believed that I would never be elected as staff again.  I laughed, but this time without the self-congratulatory feeling, and then I started to sweat a little.

A half hour later I was still in JC.  Notes deriding the motion began appearing underneath the door.  One said that under no circumstances would I be allowed to “alienate our inalienable rights,” and that the “Sons of Sudbury would rise in opposition to The Motion.”  At one o’clock, we concluded JC and headed into the meeting room.  Nearly the entire student body was already there waiting.  I sat in my place at the front facing the room (where the JC clerk always sits next to the School Meeting Chair), and felt the heat of the crowd.  At this point I thought I had two possible courses of action: I could withdraw the motion, because I didn’t actually believe in its merit and my tomfoolery had already caused enough strife, or I could argue for the motion as compellingly as I possibly could, and continue the charade through to the end; I began jotting notes of things I might say in support of the motion.  I decided not to deny the assembled the satisfaction of blowing me out of the water.

When the motion came up, nearly everyone in the room raised their hands to speak.  Early on, I was asked, “why?” I delivered a little speech along the lines of: “I believe these devices are dangerous; they are a blight.   An important component of Sudbury education is the occasional occurrence of boredom.  The benefits of boredom are pretty well documented (blog readers, see this) by now, and we take advantage of them here.  Boredom leads to more meaningful and creative activity, it can help one to discover a genuine enthusiasm, and it provides the space for us to feel what’s happening inside of us.  If we always have recourse to the our devices – that is, to an endless variety of games, information, and people to talk to – we are robbed of ourselves, really.  We’ll never feel our emotions fully or properly if we can’t be alone or bored for more than a few seconds, or develop the focus needed to think at a high level.  We are all becoming pawns of Silicon Valley, offering ourselves up to entities which will mercilessly take advantage of us, etc.   Of the 44 people present at the meeting, most spoke, rephrasing and reframing arguments in support of freedom.  Many sympathized with some points of my argument and expressed awareness of possible dangers of the proliferation of wireless devices, but told me in no uncertain terms that the motion to ban was very unwise. Here’s a summary of what they said:  what you’re really trying to ban is fun, and that’s not good. This school is based on freedom – people should be able to choose; that’s what its about; It’s a totally unfair imposition to tell us we can’t do some particular thing.  Plus, don’t you know that forbidding something usually causes a backlash, as in the case of the sheltered college student who becomes an alcoholic? Besides, our use of devices is actually enriching our lives in myriad ways.  A few students who don’t use devices themselves also spoke vehemently against the motion.  Several said they believe some SM Members in the community use devices “too much,” but they don’t believe it’s the role of the School Meeting to attempt to regulate at that level.

My final comment to School Meeting was that I agreed that the motion was out of line because – besides the obvious infringement on freedom, it denies students the opportunity to learn to navigate this territory for themselves.  I didn’t say this at the meeting, but I also know there’s tons of good arguments and compelling evidence by now which show that video games in particular have tremendously positive effects on kids, and there’s fascinating research out of Stanford suggesting that social network platforms like twitter encourage the development of good writing skills, from grammar to quality of information to composition.   The New York Times has reported on the impressive benefits of Minecraft, in particular .  Banning devices would be like banning books, or conversation, or play.

After the vote, a few SM members remained in the meeting to discuss what had just happened.  One staff expressed some mild concern about the legitimacy of a staff member at our school making this kind of motion – sort of like the “cooking something up” for students that happens in traditional schools – an artificial “educational” experience.  I feel I did infringe on students’ freedom, tricking them into pausing their activity to come to a meeting to ensure a bad motion didn’t pass (that wouldn’t have passed anyway).   But I enjoyed it, and I think others did too. I still feel ambivalent about it.  What does everyone think?

Perspective from an Alumna (Part 2)

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This blog is the second part of an Alumna’s perspective on her HVSS education.  The first part can be read here: http://sudburyschool.com/blog/perspective-alumni-part-1.  This installment largely focuses on what Marina has done since graduating from HVSS.
 

World Dance Residency

In January of 2012, myself and three other teaching artists from The Vanaver Caravan Dance & Music Company journeyed to Udaipur, India.  We spent a total of four weeks teaching world dance and music to children ages six to fourteen in three schools of vastly varied socioeconomic backgrounds. Udaipur, “the city of lakes” is known for its ancient Rajasthani arts traditions and its picturesque resorts and palaces. Home to one of India’s oldest arts festivals (Shilpgram Utsav) and hundreds of cutting edge NGOs, Udaipur serves as a meeting ground for intellectuals, artists, activists and world-travelers. It is also a city of intense contrasts – where a vibrant history of wealth, luxury and royalty crosses paths with massive economic devastation, inequality, and disparities. While Udaipur boasts many fine educational institutions, the literacy rate is just 62%, with little-to-no access to quality education for poor children, and very few arts programs within the city schools. It is through one of the Hudson Valley’s oldest dance and music companies, The Vanaver Caravan and Udaipur based NGO, Big Medicine Charitable Trust, that this work is made possible. The World Dance Residency program focuses on bringing communities together in celebration of diversity and the many cultures of the world. It provides the space for students, teachers, parents and administrators alike to see the power dance has in uniting people regardless of social status.

The next installment of this project will take place in January 2014. In addition to teaching the children of Udaipur, The Vanaver Caravan and Big Medicine Charitable Trust have expanded the program’s reach by signing New York University on board. NYU has created a winter study abroad option that is open to any student across the globe with college credits that are transferrable. Students will have the opportunity to learn about Rajisthan’s rich culture through classes in traditional art, dance and music taught by Udaipur locals. This is an incredible opportunity for cultural exchange between people of all ages. It is an opportunity for global citizenship.

In the process of fundraising I reached out to communities around the globe that I’ve connected to in my travels and found overwhelming support and encouragement.  Through local action one can create and sustain thriving communities both at home and around the world.

ONE

“Made to symbolize the magnificence of man and the interconnectedness of humanity, ONE consists of over 100 aerialists dancing together in mid-air, for one hour, suspended 150 feet above ground, and moving via high-powered computer operated winches, underneath a constructed truss.”

That is the mission of the second project I am a part of, ONE.  I received an email in early May of this year from an older, very successful dancer and aerialist who danced with The Vanaver Caravan and watched me grow up since the age of four. She said that she thought I might be interested in this project and should apply. Unfortunately, by the time I had read her email, the deadline to submit had passed. I e-mailed them anyway and was told to send my resume as soon as possible. I did, and two weeks later I received ten in-depth questions about my physical training, experience working in groups, and why I wanted to be a part of this groundbreaking performance. I sent in my responses excited, but not optimistic at my chances of actually getting an audition, as I had no experience doing aerial work. Surprisingly, a few weeks later I was given an audition time and date and told to show up prepared to copy an aerial routine that would be shown once. Three weeks later, after an epic journey from Charlotessville, NC to Brooklyn, NY, I found myself in a group of ten dancers and aerialists, (the last of over two hundred in New York City to audition) all equally nervous, awaiting our turn to perform for the judges. When I walked into the warehouse studio, I was met with familiar faces: the woman who had emailed me, her partner, and another Vanaver dancer who also tossed me around as a tiny five year old on many stages for many audiences. They harnessed me in, checked me twice and sent me up. Ten feet, thirty, fifty, sixty….still climbing. It was exhilarating. I was beaming so brightly, I couldn’t help myself. Why was I still dancing on the ground when I could weightlessly fly like this? I knew my chances of making it to callbacks were slim, as they held auditions in nine countries. Nevertheless, I was absolutely thrilled to have given it a shot and to have tasted flight.

After the audition, I took the two hour bus trip back to Philly where I returned to a hectic schedule of commuting and working. Weeks passed and the high wore off. It seemed like a distant dream until  one scorching Summer afternoon when I received an e-mail from ONE at Central Park. At first, all it said was, “Congratulations!” I was baffled. Were they teasing me? Did I get it? The rest of the message loaded and indeed, I had been chosen as one of the one hundred. Wow. I was stunned. My partner picked me up, spinning me around excitedly. I had actually gotten in, but it wasn’t without the help and encouragement of my community.

ONE will premier during the Spring or Fall of 2014. During the ten days of performances, it will bring in approximately 10,000 viewers per show and 53 million via webcast. I am humbled and thrilled to have been chosen to be a part of the team that will bring this magical vision to life and into the lives of so many around the globe.

It is Sudbury that taught me the importance of community and gave me the skills needed to thrive in one. How to give and take in equal parts; the importance of a network of support.

Links to Marina’s Projects

The blog that I kept while teaching in India:  http://vanavercaravan.tumblr.com/
 
The Vanaver Caravan’s Indiegogo Campaign. Though it is too late to donate on the page, if you feel so inclined, please visit www.vanavercaravan.org to make your tax-deductible donation or learn more about the company.  http://www.indiegogo.com/projects/dancing-for-change-in-udaipur-india
 
ONE’s website:  www.oneinnewyork.com
 
Audition Footage from ONE (for those who don’t know Marina, you can see her at the 10 second mark): http://vimeo.com/76169641 
 
Human Architecture, Production Company:  http://human-architecture.org/WhatisOne.php
 
Press Coverage of ONE can be found at the following links:

Perspective from an Alumna (Part 1)

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I can’t tell you how many versions of this I’ve written. Each one desperately trying to fully paint the ways in which Sudbury paved the path for the work I’ve been doing for the last four years. I wrote about fear and how my time at HVSS allowed me to fearlessly try, succeed, fail, and – most importantly, to learn. I wrote about my fight. I wrote that though I’ve been blessed with opportunity, things were never handed to me; it was always a battle of finding motivation in myself to carry through. Sudbury students know that well. They know that the education they’ve chosen is one where internal motivation is essential. I began a passage speaking to the inevitable lesson of responsibility that Sudbury students can’t help but find. It was in that lesson that I gained self-respect. I came to understand that my needs and dreams were just as important as those of the people around me. I learned to identify what it was that I, Marina, truly desired and how to politely fight those desires to fruition. However, none of the passages I wrote seemed quite right. Those lessons and qualities are a part of a much bigger picture. To me, what it boils down to is community. With community comes networks and support – a group one learns to trust in and depend on. 

In looking back at the three years I spent at Sudbury, I realized that I received endless support and encouragement from those around me to explore my world. I didn’t grow up in a family that was well to do financially. Yet, my mother was able to provide me with access to incredible alternative health care and classes in dance, gymnastics, sculpture and acting. She is an incredible, intelligent and articulate woman who knows how to fight for what she believes in and use the resources within her community. When I went on my visiting week at Sudbury, I decided pretty early on that I was going to give it a try. But how could we pay for it? Three years ago I read the beautifully written letter my Mother sent to the staff at HVSS. It was my story through her eyes. She reached out and was met. That was my first encounter with how the Sudbury community would be committed to supporting me. 

For the first year and a half, Vanessa picked me up and drove me to school. Why? I had no other way of getting there. I can still remember the smell of her Subaru. New car and small children. Warm heat blowing through the vents on the most frigid of days. I even recall the first warm day of spring. Windows open, Jack Johnson playing through the speakers. My house wasn’t necessarily on the way, and yet, without fail, she brought me to Sudbury every day.

I am not the kind of person who is good at sitting around doing, “nothing,” and when I was younger I was even worse. After enrolling I suddenly had endless amounts of time during the day to…choose what I wanted to do? What a strange concept. How wonderful! How incredible! Okay, so, what do I do? Hmm…. Um, can someone please just tell me what I’m supposed to do? There’s got to be something that someone thinks I ought to be doing. Someone? Please? Anyone?  No? Okay, I guess this means I really have to think for myself. 

That was the gist of my first few weeks at Sudbury. So, I began with what I knew. Dance. I strapped on my flamenco shoes, found an empty room and pounded away for hours and hours. The other kids kindly asked me to please be a bit quieter as the walls were shaking in the next room. I can’t believe no one ever wrote me up for disturbingly noisy activity, but people seemed to respect that that’s what I did, even if they had no idea what it was, except loud. They played computer games and I made a lot of noise. 

Weeks passed. One day, Vanessa said, you know, you could put a mirror up in there if you want…. and, so it began. She had made a suggestion and it was up to me to see it through, and I did. I wasn’t alone though – I was surrounded by people who would help if I asked. 

And, so my time at Sudbury went. I wanted to go on tour in California and Europe with my dance company and so I was supported in setting up a benefit concert and silent auction to raise the money. Help came from all directions. Booking a venue, reaching out to performers, artists and local shops to donate their time and goods. I was never discouraged or told that I was incapable or pulling this together. The Summer 2007 Germany, Sweden, California tour was amazing! 

Classes, trips, complaints, funny times, game time, School Meeting, rough times, JC, Clerkships, frustration, cleaning jobs. There was always someone there to share kind words, hold me accountable, encourage me, reach out to their networks, to tell me a story and shape my experience of what it is to be a member of a community. 

In the last year and a half I’ve lived in five different zip codes, in three different states. In each place, I have sought a network to weave myself into. Through the communities that I’ve been able to participate in a number of incredible projects the last couple years.

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.