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.

Nami Bates

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“I went to the Hudson Valley Sudbury School for 2 years, and let me tell you those were the best 2 years of my high school life. Sudbury is such a unique learning environment, and it had a huge impact on who I am today.

When I first attended, I was extremely self conscious and shy from my experience in public schools. Being in Sudbury, everyone was trying to get me out of my ‘self conscious’ bubble, and they did. Being somewhere where the age range is so diverse, from toddlers to teens to the adults, you learn so many different things just from the experiences of others or just observing everyone. I become comfortable in speaking my own voice and sharing my opinions. The whole time I was in public school I was terrible at writing essays, but when I came out of Sudbury, I was extremely good because I was finally able to express what I wanted to say and write.

Sudbury gave me the chance to work really hard on improving my art skills which is my biggest passion. If it weren’t for Sudbury, I wouldn’t be as good as I am today. Getting 2 years straight to devote time to develop my art really made a huge difference. Since I live in Thailand now, its not easy getting a job unless you have a diploma. This isn’t much of a problem for me because I’ve been making money by drawing for people. Everything I do is through the internet, so I get clients from different places. All in all, Sudbury allowed me to boost my confidence level, artistic skills and helped me to further pursue my goals with passion. It gave me things I can use, not just after high school and college, but for the rest of my life. These things I KNOW I would never have gotten if I didn’t go to Sudbury.

I’m in University now, and sometimes I wish there was a Sudbury style University! Sudbury has got to be the most effective school out there.”

[Ed. You can check out Nami’s art at momijigirl.deviantart.com]

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.

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

Chase and Pursuit

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

My Depression

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Seventh grade was when my depression began.

Now before anyone asks, nothing triggered this. I just started feeling like crap in seventh grade, despite my loving family, amazing friends, stable household, good grades, and basically perfect life. There was the exhaustion, and then the sadness. The sadness had no source. There was no reason for it, but it was there. It was like incredibly distracting background music, turned up a little too loud. At first I tried to get rid of it, but when I realized I couldn’t do that, I turned the volume up, grabbed a blanket, and just let it surround me. I could still have happy moments, at times. I still laughed at jokes. I still smiled at things. But the sadness was still there, waiting, and it absolutely hated being ignored. I went through life with lead weights on my ankles, my head, and the corners of my mouth. 
 
Weekends with friends were life-saving. Because I couldn’t tell my blood family what I was going through, my other family, my friends, saved me. I would show them my broken heart, and they would kiss it and put band-aids on it and keep it beating until I could see them again. I would spend hours collapsed on them, and they would rub my cut-up arms and kiss my forehead and charge my failing batteries enough to keep going for another week or so. 
 
I held onto moments with the people I cared about and little things I would find when with them–a rock in the shape of a heart, an old rusty nail on the side of a path, little objects that I wouldn’t let anyone touch and would cling to when I felt lost.
 
I needed help, but was too scared to ask for it. This went on for a few years. But then my parents found out. I forget how. It may have been my sister, or it may have been that I forgot to cover up my arms with bracelets one day, but either way they sent me to group therapy. It was good to talk to the other girls, and it was good to let it out, vent a little, relax for an hour and a half every Tuesday night. 
 
But my brain was still messed up. They put me on Zoloft, after some persuading from my concerned sister, and I think it helped for a few months before my body got used to it. Then it stopped working, so one day, I took myself off of it. If you’ve ever read about or gone through Zoloft withdrawal, you know that it’s hell.
 
By eleventh grade, my grades dropped into the 40s and my parents grounded me. I wasn’t allowed to phone anyone, see anyone, or go online until my grades improved and my room got cleaned. 
 
Neither one happened. 
 
After a few months, my parents realized that grounding me was making it worse. I got new medication. They sat me down and asked me if I would like to try out a private school. A Sudbury school. A non-stressful, no curriculum, democratic school that lets its students choose how they spend their days, learning through everyday experiences and play. 
 
They told me I could visit the school and check it out, and I started sobbing. I didn’t see any way out before that. I had been planning to be dead before senior year, and this school was my miracle.
 
I’ve been going to Sudbury for around three months now, and it has changed my life. The doubts I had about the philosophy of the school dissolve with each 9-year old poet, each 6-year old who answers the phone, “Hello, Hudson Valley Sudbury School, how may I help you?”, with each child who knows more about friendship and morals and honesty and communication than half of the adults I know. This school, this crazy, radical, insane school, has saved my life. It has taught me to hold on to inspiration, to find new reasons to live every second, to be different and odd and inspirational and ferociously passionate. 
 
Every once in a while, for a few days, I get bogged down again. I sit down and feel like living is impossible, like I can’t possible keep going, like the world is fading to grey again. Depression will come back, smiling and spreading itself through my bloodstream, turning my bones to lead and asking, “Did you forget about me?”
 
But it knows better than to stay, and I know better than to let it. Because no, I didn’t forget. And I’m not cured. But I hold the chains now, the whip, whatever metaphorical leash I need to keep it down. I’m in control now.
 
What I’ve realized is that I was never weak. Throughout those five years of not being able to do anything and wanting to give up entirely, I was not weak. I was beaten, bruised, bloody, but I was alive. I am alive.
 
I am alive.
This article first appeared in the Good Life Youth Journal.  A free journal written by young people for young-minded people.

Images of Sudbury

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Periodically, our blog entry will be a photo journal. This photo journal is presented by Vanessa.

This year – my tenth as a staff member at the Hudson Valley Sudbury School – I have been given a gift; I get to follow my ever curious toddler as he explores campus and interacts with the big kids. Because my son is often on the move I often only glimpse the joy, focus, fun, and talent that weave this community together. Experiencing the school like this has reminded me to stop and look closely, to revel in the fleeting moments, and to be thankful to be part of a school in which education is built on moments like these.

The Qualities of a Sudbury Education

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Last year I spent my afternoons tutoring students who came to me mostly from high-powered traditional private schools. I didn’t do much during sessions; I spoke casually with the students, commiserated, encouraged, laughed, asked occasional questions, and tried to stay out of their way as they navigated the difficulties of compulsory performance. But the students, their parents, and the owner of the company all thought I was doing a lot, and they happily bestowed upon me the credit for improvements in the students’ work and were delighted that the students actually enjoyed coming to tutoring after a full day of slogging through school. I admired and liked the owner of the company – my boss – and over the course of the year I described to him in detail the Sudbury philosophy and what I had been seeing at HVSS during my internship. He was interested, and understood and approved to an extent, but he did have a concern: “Matthew,” he told me, “you are an excellent teacher. You need to be working with kids and teaching them; I don’t want you to throw that away.” I was taken aback; alas, had I failed in my explanations of Sudbury?

There is a lot of play at Sudbury, and it could be said that play has a sacred place in the Sudbury philosophy because it is so often what kids want to do and what kids learn the most from doing. But it seems that in the process of learning the philosophy people often lose sight of the essential qualities of Sudbury education – freedom, trust, and responsibility, and come to believe that Sudbury only values play, or eschews other pursuits. But in the first instance – and in the last – Sudbury by definition does not approve of play or anything else over and above traditional academic pursuits, which have enormous value for me, personally. But any pursuit has little value outside the context of freedom, trust, and responsibility, and that’s the point.

One day at school a couple weeks ago I spent the morning quietly reading books about sticks, streams, and bunnies with a five year old girl. We paused to examine the illustrations, to read the expressions on the faces of the characters, and to guess at what else they might do in their imaginary lives. We talked about how lovely it might feel to just be a stick floating down a stream. Then, she was done, ready to move on. We walked down to the art room where an older girl taught us both how to make a potholder using a simple loom, which appealed to me because I’ve had it in the back of my head for years that I’d like to weave (now I have an extra potholder, too). Later in the afternoon I sat down with a teenager who was here on his visiting week. He had asked me to help him design a course of study focusing on human suffering and its causes, how chronically ill people are viewed in a society which privileges health, man’s pursuit of meaning despite suffering, and the roots of philosophy. We were beginning with Plato’s classic Meno. We each took roles in the dialogue and read aloud, pausing frequently to dissect Plato’s meaning and appreciate Socrates’ wit. At one point a group of younger kids came in to try to get the visiting student to come outside and play. “I need a little more of this, first,” he told them.

In the Meno, Socrates hypothesizes that knowledge lies latent within the hearts and minds of human beings, and we have only to “recollect” it. For Socrates, knowledge is found only by those who seek it honestly and diligently. When education is compulsory, so much of the work of the educator is figuring out how to get her students motivated. Games, rewards, punishments, and the passion of the teacher for the subject are all considered tools to achieve this. But these things very often fail, and in the process they debase students, telling them there is something essentially wrong with them (since they need to be compelled). For me, my own private play and imaginings have been the lodestar which has guided my investigation of life. Imagination has given me access to a wider scope of human activity than my tiny life could ever allow. When I am in a sword fight at Sudbury, I imagine that the swords are real. It takes concentration, but when it is done well – when the imagination is employed vigorously to polish the scene until it becomes real – the thoughts, emotions, and sensations of it spring to life – and later, questions, and the drive to investigate, and grow.

The next time I talk to my former boss at the tutoring company, I’ll tell him that I do get to “work with and teach students. I’d like to explain that freedom for students does not mean that formal learning does not happen at Sudbury; it means that when it does, there is a better chance for it to be authentic, because the student has chosen to engage in it – and meaningful, because it arises directly out of the student’s life – and fruitful, too, because students here come so often from the fecund fields of imaginative play.

Plato is rich and difficult; we moved slowly. We read a little more, spoke softly, laughed, concluded. Outside our window the group of kids ran by shrieking, pursued by goblins. The student got up and went out into the air and the sun, to play.

Why I Choose Sudbury

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I think it is now widely acknowledged that the U.S. school system was originally intended to produce lots of good factory workers – individuals who have basic literacy and are practiced at following orders and obedience to authority figures. And that college was generally intended for a minority of the especially intelligent or wealthy. I have been asking myself over the past year, what is the goal of our country’s school system now? I have found many answers to this question, in books, documentaries, articles, and in conversations with people of differing perspectives. I am no authority on the subject, but it is with a feeling of passionate interest that I share with you my opinion, my answer to this question, in the following paragraphs.

I believe that the goal of the current U.S. school system is to funnel the majority of individuals into the status quo, into the corporate-run economy. My choice of the word “funnel” is very intentional here, because I see the whole process as one of narrowing the individual’s life by limiting their perception, their experience, and their opportunities. I realize that this statement is the opposite of popular educational rhetoric, but consider these characteristics of the present system:

  • the individual is measured by how well he or she meets the expectations of others (teachers, tests, the state, parents)
  • the system naturally produces winners and losers, and competition is used as motivation
  • book knowledge is valued over self knowledge
  • book knowledge is valued over direct experience, especially when it comes to nature
  • individuals, especially in high school, are expected to devote the majority of their waking hours to meeting the requirements of the system/curriculum.

In general, these characteristics seem like a pretty effective way to produce a large supply of good workers who generally:

  • measure their self-worth by how well they meet the expectations of others
  • are fearful of losing their jobs to smarter or more resourceful individuals
  • do not think very much about their personal interests
  • are disconnected from nature and by default contribute to the lack of conscience displayed by their employers or by the makers of the products they consume
  • are willing to devote the majority of their waking hours to the continuing profitability of their employer and to the continued ability to consume according to the status quo

I think the system limits perception and experience by telling students what to think about and what to do – it keeps large numbers of young people focused on what the system deems appropriate to focus on. I admit that students in the mainstream school system may learn a great deal about a wide range of topics, and that can look expansive, but if the student has no personal interest in a topic, whatever is learned is easily and usually forgotten. For example, I got good grades, As and Bs, in the required high school and college history classes, but I was not at all interested and I have forgotten 99.9 percent of what I memorized perfectly for the tests. I think most of us have had a similar experience, and probably not with just one topic.

Training individuals to think about the same things, and do the same things, and learn from the same kinds of sources, and be measured by the same measurements, is handy for maintaining any status quo. The school system, as a whole, is a structure that does just this. Even if the set of “same things” is very large, it is still only a subset of what is possible. The larger the set, the more time is spent learning things that will be forgotten.

The whole notion that students need to be kept very busy learning things is crazy, unless you want those individuals to learn certain things, unless you want them to be kept on the track, unless you want them to maintain the status quo. Then you’ve got to keep them busy so they won’t stray, so they won’t think for themselves too deeply.

I realize that so much of our culture points towards the status quo, towards the funnel, which empties into the American Dream: work hard, gets lots of stuff, and you’ll be happy and successful. I don’t believe that the American Dream leads to “happy and successful” for many people, and it certainly isn’t leading to sustainability of our natural resources. I chose Sudbury because I don’t want to subject my children to programming that works like a magnet to the funnel. I want my children to have the best possible chance of choosing their own path, whatever it may be.

What about college? College is no longer for the very intelligent or wealthy, it is now proclaimed to be necessary for every individual if he or she wants to be successful. As a routine, expected destination, I think college is just the neck of the funnel. I am not saying that college is a waste, or that it is unnecessary for some pursuits. If my children go to college I hope it will be because they really want to, and not because they think they have to in order to have a happy life, and not because they think it is some sort of guarantee of future success or happiness, which it is not. I hope the result of their college experience, should they have it, is that their lives are expanded, not narrowed.

More reasons I choose Sudbury for my children:

  • Not having competition as the basis for motivation allows the possibility of community and cooperation to be a basis for motivation
  • Having the freedom to choose, in the broad sense permitted by Sudbury, allows decisions to be made based on inner knowing and conscience, instead of external reward
  • Being equal members of a democratic community provides an opportunity to learn about democracy from direct experience and to practice democratic behavior
  • Practicing being responsible for one’s own behavior, well being, and happiness I think contributes far more to a person’s potential for success than practicing memorizing information for a test.

In the end, we make decisions about our children’s education based on what we think and feel, which is shaped by our own education and life experience. What do we really want for our children? I want mine to be deep-down happy, not status-quo happy. I can’t make that happen for them, but I can give them the chance to practice at it, before life sweeps them into the wide world. You can accuse me of wanting a funnel too – but I like to think of mine as an inverted funnel. I believe that focusing on happiness, self-determination, and personal responsibility as a child ultimately leads to more opportunity and a more expansive, fulfilling life.

My first three or four years of exposure to Sudbury made me question my own priorities and values, and set me on a path of change. By grappling with my own freedom (or lack thereof) in my 40s, I have become more profoundly happy and motivated than I have ever been before, but it was not without a bumpy ride. Sudbury is a gift that I give to my children, because I believe it will help them find their way to the kind of success that is possible only when they are free.

Lessons of a Sudbury Education

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As we sit in our school’s main lounge, trying to write about the underlying lessons of a Sudbury education, we often find ourselves “off task.” We are watching the bustling activity around us…Jeff, a staff member, and Sonya, a 14-year-old student, are working on math problems in order to move her closer to her goal of becoming a vet. (She’s contacted Cornell University to find the best method of getting into their program.) Cody, age 11, and Madison, 15, are reading medicine cards for all who walk by. Eli, 5, and Kiran, 6, are comparing new Magic Cards and talking about the mysterious gum switcher—the spearmint and cinnamon gum from the School Store have seemingly switched bottles. The Judicial Committee members file into the JC room to start the daily session but Natasha, 15, one of our JC clerks, has to find a replacement for the 5- to 9-year old representative to the JC who is out sick. Success—Sophie, age 8, is filling in. Lisa, a staff member, and David, age 16, are discussing whether or not putting “spring water” on a bottled water label ensures you aren’t getting someone’s random tap water. A man drives up attempting to deliver food to the Zena Elementary School, a public school down the road. While only a few miles away, the Zena Elementary School couldn’t be more different then The Hudson Valley Sudbury School on Zena Road.

It struck us that we weren’t off task as our minds wandered. It makes perfect sense to explain our philosophy from the perspective of the students. Only through our students’ experiences are we truly able to give justice to a discription of the Sudbury education. To understand the Sudbury education you must first erase any preconceptions and conditioning you have about education. A Sudbury education is very different from any other type of education provided by either public schools or private schools. You have to be open to challenging your beliefs and trusting the fundamental principles of life.

Sudbury schools operate with no mandated or pre-determined curriculum. Students are responsible for every aspect of their education. This means that all day, every day students are free to decide how to spend their time and, in turn, the directions that their education and lives take. One of our parents termed this “Student Motivated Learning.” The Sudbury philosophy acknowledges that people learn best when the motivation comes from within instead of from an external source, be it a parent, teacher or national curriculum.

Sudbury schools are run by a participatory democracy. Each student and each staff has equal representation and an equal vote in the weekly School Meeting. This meeting makes all of the day-to-day decisions necessary to run the school; it is chaired by a student and is run similar to a town hall meeting. There is no principal, no higher authority, and no veto power.

Given that there is no mandated curriculum, it is hard to pinpoint what each student learns. They learn whatever they consider important enough to learn—reading, writing and basic math, but equally important, they might learn painting, physics, skateboarding, sewing, cooking, carpentry, Chinese—the list is infinite. Students learn important lessons just by being a member of the culture of a Sudbury school. John Taylor Gatto, who was twice named NYS teacher of the year, wrote a scathing rebuke of the public school system’s form of compulsory education in his essay “The Six-Lesson Schoolteacher.” Mr. Gatto describes the underlying or hidden lessons taught by the culture of compulsory education—lessons such as “stay in the class where you belong,” “you can only learn through an outside agent,” “you are subject to a chain of command,” “your self-respect should depend on an observer’s measure of your worth,” and “you are always under surveillance.” The “hidden” lessons are those that aren’t explicitly taught—no one stands up in front of the students and says, “you are subject to a chain of command.” The lessons are simply part of the culture, and to be successful in the culture the students have to conform to the cultural rules. Those students who don’t conform are labeled “trouble makers,” or even given a medical diagnosis of ADHD and prescribed medicine to numb them enough that they won’t disrupt the culture.

A Sudbury school also has lessons that are taught by its culture, however these are very different lessons than those taught by a compulsory educational culture. As we struggled to write this, we asked some of our students “what is it like to be a student in a Sudbury school?” Here are their responses:

Monty, age 8, who was in the kitchen in an intense version of his block men game said: “When my mom sent me to school in California, I didn’t like it so much. I was a prisoner. They wouldn’t let me free. I always had to do math, which wasn’t fun for me. There wasn’t any space to do things I wanted to do. Until I got to this school and it is great. Yes, good times.” Katya, age 7, who was restricted to the art room all day for being annoying, said “You don’t have people telling you how to live your life, you get to LIVE YOUR LIFE.”

Monty and Katya have flourished in the freedom that is fundamental to the Sudbury culture. Students are not told where they have to be, what they have to do, who they have to listen to or what they have to learn. Each student pursues his or her own independent path. Because no two people are exactly alike, no two students take the same path of learning. Some students spend their entire energy on music, some on art, some on math or physics. More important than anything they choose to do with their freedom is that they have the freedom. The most obvious lessons underlying freedom are independence and trust. By allowing our students the freedom to decide what to do, we communicate to them that they are independent beings with independent needs, goals, desires. We are also saying to them that we trust them to exercise this freedom. The underlying lessons will always be more important than how or whether they learned the quadratic equation. This freedom, therefore, is guarded with the utmost respect.

The brilliance of Sudbury schools is that responsibility is on an equal footing with freedom. Eli, age 5, who was playing Magic Cards with an older student said “The best thing about this school is you learn not to do bad things, like not to litter.” Responsibility and freedom intersect in the Judicial Committee (JC). This body consists of 5 students and a staff member, with each age group represented. The JC has the responsibility of ensuring that the School Meeting’s laws and policies are followed. This body resolves issues through investigation, charges, and sentences. There are thorough reports, motions, and pleas. Students have responsibility to this body through membership, testimony, and honesty.

The underlying message of holding people responsible is that the culture believes they are capable— capable of taking care of themselves, of deciding their path, capable of being an integral and active part of a larger community and helping to shape that community. Sudbury schools have very high expectations of their students. It is not an easy place to be. There is room to make mistakes but everyone must take responsibility for their choices. Students are held responsible for every aspect of their education, behavior, interactions, and the community. They have freedom to do as they choose but also the responsibility to not impinge on the freedom of others.

With this responsibility comes respect that is unmeasured. With this freedom comes a natural sense of joy, friendship, conversation, and life.

Alexei, age 16, said “When you tell a kid they can do anything, but we’re trusting you to do the right thing, they — especially the younger kids — take it to heart. They like to push the boundaries. If there’s nothing to push against, they’ll settle down and do work.” But the work that Alexei is referring to doesn’t look like work. Eli, age 5, said “In other schools you have to work all day, here you get to play all day.” By play, he doesn’t mean “recess.” Recess is defined as “a suspension of business.” Sudbury schools do not consider play to be a suspension of business— they consider it part of the “business” of the school. The underlying lesson in dividing a student’s time between “learning” and “recess” is that learning is not fun and recess is fun, that play is not important but learning is important. Students at Sudbury schools don’t differentiate between work and play, learning and fun. They play anything and everything with passion and intensity. They work at play like musicians work at music, like doctors work at medicine, and they play at work like writers play with language and carpenters play with wood.

Students and staff play constantly and they play together. Just as the lines blur between work and play, the lines of age become non-existent. Age mixing is the Sudbury secret weapon. There is no separation or grouping by age, but instead there is a community of people with different skills and different interests. Fifteen-year-olds read to six-year-olds and seven-year-olds give skateboarding tips to sixteen-year-olds. The competition created by putting all kids of the same age together, only to compare themselves against one other, is transformed to friends helping each other move through life in a natural and supportive way. The staff’s role at a Sudbury school is multi-faceted: they complete the age continuum, they model responsible behavior, and they handle the administrative work of running the school. Staff members are friends and playmates, sounding boards, counselors, parental figures, and most importantly, they hold the space that allows for freedom, trust and responsibility to flourish in each and every student.

Students who come through a Sudbury education are independent. They are responsible for themselves and responsible for their community. They are passionate and articulate. Through their independence they know what they want to do with their lives and are focused on accomplishing their goals. Through the responsibility and trust given to them they are self confident and able to accomplish those goals. When a student applies to college, for a job, or even a relationship and shows this level of independence, responsibility and self-confidence, they have an outstanding chance of acceptance, a chance above those who are just taking the next step deemed important by society.

At a gathering last week, the parent of a potential student asked us “how do you know that students flourish at a Sudbury School?” We know it without assessments, or grades; without evaluations or testing. We know it because we see it every day. We see it in the 7-year-old girl who used to call her parents every hour on the hour and now only calls them once a day. We see it in the 6-year-old boy who never wanted to be separated from his mother and who now runs out of the car to come into the school and doesn’t want to leave at the end of the day. We see it in the teenagers who are taking responsibility in the community by running for clerkships and are eager to be role models for the younger students. We see it in comments like “I look forward to the weeks and not the weekends” or “I can sing out loudly, badly and not feel embarrassed,” and “so, if it snows and only one staff member can get to school, do we still have to have a snow day?” We see it in the 11-year-old girl and 10-year-old boy who volunteered to be on the suspension committee of a 12 year old, because they, too, have had anger management issues.

We see it in the writing of two of our teenagers the first being Sonya, age 14, who has waited two years to experience our solid environment in which to pick her bouquet:

“School is a field of flowers. In public school you are in that field being told which flowers are best to pick. There are the red math flowers and the blue science flowers. Sometimes you will be told to pick the green English’s or the purple Social Studies. Your teacher will walk with you and hold your hand showing you how to pick the flowers—what to do once you have it in your hand. They show you how to place it carefully in your bouquet of knowledge so it doesn’t fall out.

At Sudbury you are put in a field with the flowers everywhere. You aren’t told what to pick and when to pick it. You are given the open field to crawl around in. When you look and find the prettiest flower you might stop and look at it carefully. Noticing the veins that trickle down the sides. The petals open up for you. While you look at it you see the inside of it colored yellow, red, and orange. Carefully so that you don’t break the stalk, you pull it lightly from the ground and let it roll on your fingertips, slowly one way then the other. Then just as soon as you have looked at it, you know everything there is to know, you add it to your pile of flowers that you have in your hand. Some of the kids in the field have a lot of the red math flowers. Other kids have a lot of green English’s. But in the end every one has a beautiful bouquet to call theirs.”

And, we see it in Natasha, a 15-year-old who commutes weekly from New Jersey to be in our school.

“Whenever someone asks me how I like my new school I always respond: “I love it! It’s absolutely awesome!” because it’s the only way I could come close to expressing my overwhelming happiness at HVSS. Hudson Valley Sudbury School has essentially been the key to the door that has opened up into a whole new way of living. I can say, without hesitation, that this has been one of the most important and positive decisions I have ever made in my life, and there is no way I would regret it. I really can’t say enough about the difference a Sudbury education has made in my life. This past weekend I was at a party of my father’s where there were many members of my family and family friends that I haven’t seen for months. When they saw the 360-degree turnaround in my attitude they were astounded. I was the cheeriest and happiest they had every seen me, since I was a child. My attitude this weekend is no exception—I’m always in a positive mood. I’m no longer pessimistic, but rather optimistic and greet the world with interest, curiosity, happiness and peace.

Every day I grow more and more as an independent person and less and less of a programmed machine. Within the last two months I have more of a sense of what I would like to do in my adult life than I have had in the last 15 years. For the first time that I can remember, I have goals and motivation, too. My motivation comes from my desire to learn what I have interest in—namely politics, activism, law, foreign languages, history, philosophy, art and literature. Organizational, communication, and leadership skills are all skills that I am learning and refining in the environment that Sudbury School has provided me. HVSS is like a loving, democratic community of amazing and diverse people. It’s a place where anyone can and usually is your friend—both staff and other children half (or twice) your age. This is a place where there is truly liberty and justice for all!

Sudbury schools are completely democratic—demonstrated in the workings of the Judicial Committee and School Meeting. Everyone is an equal—no exceptions. I know this school isn’t for everyone, but I think it could be for most people if they were really willing to give it a try and were open to this completely different way of learning, they would be amazed and flourish in this environment. Never be afraid of change—you could travel down some amazing paths if you allow yourself.”