What are They Doing?

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Well it’s the first warm day of March, and most people here are outside, climbing trees and rolling in the mud, building sandcastles and playing street hockey.  I just played a game a student created called, “Sharktooth.”  I lost.  I was also, for a time, the overburdened father of two very demanding young girls, busily making dinners to order (why do I let them get away with that?!)  while attempting to regulate their screen-time (the “screen” was a slab of bluestone) and mediate their conflicts (you’d have to be a saint to do this well, I assured myself). I had to quit that game after less than an hour.  People sometimes complain about “kids these days” preferring the virtual world to the outdoors, but I don’t think it’s true; when all the obstacles – obstacles that adults have created –  are removed,  they go outside.  A lot, and really in all weather, not only when it’s nice.  But the spirit today is more celebratory than usual.

So what else do “kids these days” do when the typical yoke of post-industrial childhood is lifted?  Well, it’s always different –  freedom tends to variety – but I’ll tell you some of what I’ve seen today. This morning in the office a student came bursting in explain to anyone who would listen that she had, unexpectedly, been moved to undertake the writing of a memoir; her friends had encouraged her, expressing fascination with her life.  She said she was surprised, because all of a sudden, filed with purpose, she felt she was a writer, and what’s more, she was getting some clarity about certain elements of her life.  There was another student in the office sharing the news of the impending birth of her brother, talking excitedly about her hopes.  Later, in the kitchen, there was a group of girls making and sharing lunch.  I was on tapping away on my screen (work-related, ok?) and they told me to put it away and “go outside,” so I did, deciding that was probably a good idea.  On my way out the front door I passed a teenager leading a crying six-year-old with a barely-scraped knee to the nurse’s office.  “He doesn’t need medical attention,” I said with the cold, calculating logic of a robot.  The older student rolled his eyes and whispered, “It’ll make him feel better, Matthew.”  Right.  I went outside and walked over to the stage.  There was a group of 8-11 year-old boys crowded around a tire swing, taking turns winding it up as far as they could and riding out the spin.  It was going crazy fast.  But some guys didn’t want it wound too far so they wouldn’t go too fast, and at first there were mutterings about “backing out,” that sort of thing, until the most adventurous guy out there, yelled, “Hey! Everyone responds to G-Forces differently! No one should be pressured to experience more “G’s” than they want!” and that fixed ‘em.  Meanwhile, there was one student sort of prowling around looking for people to mess with.  Everywhere he went he was leaving howling kids in his wake, “leave us alone!!!”  I was about to talk to the guy to see what was up when one of our oldest students came striding out of the building and right up to him and said, “what’s up?”  I’ll have lunch, I thought.  

So, our students are taking care of each other, putting their ideas into practice, getting into and out of quarrels, and having fun together, but what’s the point – what are they preparing for (assuming a school is at least on one level a place of preparation)?  They’re preparing for the new economy of the Creative Age.

As Thomas Friedman points out in this pithy piece in the New York Times,

Software has started writing poetry, sports stories and business news. IBM’s Watson is co-writing pop hits. Uber has begun deploying self-driving taxis on real city streets and, last month, Amazon delivered its first package by drone to a customer in rural England.

The robots are here, folks.  Already, not only manual labor is being mechanized, but mental labor as well. Even AI Dr’s which have all the medical knowledge ever created at their fingertips (“buttontips?”) may not be too far off. Friedman goes on:

In short: If machines can compete with people in thinking, what makes us humans unique? And what will enable us to continue to create social and economic value? The answer, said Seidman [author of the book How: Why How we do Anything Means Everything] is the one thing machines will never have:“a heart.”

Therefore, Seidman added, our highest self-conception needs to be redefined from “I think, therefore I am” to “I care, therefore I am; I hope, therefore I am; I imagine, therefore I am. I am ethical, therefore I am. I have a purpose, therefore I am. I pause and reflect, therefore I am.”

Our economy has moved from “jobs of the hands” to “jobs of the head,” and we’re on our way to “jobs of the heart.” Our students are free to study or engage whatever sets of knowledge and skills they want to, and the school does not privilege or value any one above the any other, but whatever choices they make, they’re learning their own hearts. They may roll in real mud and climb real trees – or maybe not – but everyone here ends up rolling in the mud of life, and climbing the trees of emotion. They learn to navigate the forest.  It can be messy, like birth and death and family and culture and- well, you get the point. But our students learn to make a life, and, in the rapidly advancing future, that means a living, too.

Playground Build 2016

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

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

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

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

HVSS Theater Co-op Presents “Spamalot”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Happy, Healthy, Strong

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

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

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

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

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

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.

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.

Uncommon Core

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

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

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

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.

Connor’s List

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Why do you want to go to The Circle School, anyway, Connor? Connor attended the summer session and liked what he saw. He dictated this list of his own personal reasons, as part of his family’s discussions prior to his enrollment this fall.

  1. I’ll learn Japanese at TCS.
  2. I can do math at my own level and at my own speed.
  3. I can go outside and eat whenever I want.
  4. I can do origami. Some of my friends and I have started a store [at TCS] and we have made 60 cents. I also have plans to make people want to come and buy stuff.
  5. I can be with friends a lot at TCS. At public school I could only play with them 40 minutes a day.
  6. At public school I couldn’t share my ideas, except during a special class with Mrs. XXXXX. At TCS I can share ideas with everyone all the time.
  7. I can be upstairs whenever I want.
  8. I can use whatever computer programs I want, whenever I want. At public school I had to play the games the teachers told me and only in certain classes. In computer class I would always be finished before everybody else and so I would have to do the same things tons and tons of times and also in other classes.
  9. I like being on the JC [Judicial Committee at TCS] so when kids break rules, instead of standing at the wall for 20 minutes [as in public school] we think of other ways to help them understand the rules – like if they broke them for the first time they just get a warning, and if they have already done it before, a harder consequence [TCS jargon for “sentence”]. Like if someone hits someone then they can’t be around that person for an hour or something like that.
  10. At TCS you can go on field trips if you plan it. Michel was only five years old when he arranged a trip to the aquarium in Baltimore. I would like to plan trips to the new TCS building.
  11. I like it when Mommy dissects frogs with us.
  12. I like to play with Technics.
  13. I want to go to TCS. I don’t really want to go to public school and I get throw-up in the back of my mouth. I get up at 6:30am to get dressed and tell Mom it’s time to go to TCS.
  14. The public school says they are going to do things and they never do it. They said my friend was going to get to go to Special Interest, but he didn’t almost until the end of first grade.
  15. At public school I do the papers in about 20 seconds and then I have to wait a long time. I especially hate it when we do problems one at a time and have to wait up for everybody to finish. While I’m waiting I do algebra in my head. I know negative numbers and algebra like x + x = 12, then x = 6. I have to wait till eighth grade for that.
  16. I like The Circle School because I don’t have to be there for like seven hours. I can be there as long as I want, like maybe ten hours.
  17. At public school I was so bored once I fell asleep. And sometimes when I’m not paying attention and the teacher asks me a question, I know the answer anyway – whew!
  18. I like the way at TCS you get warnings. At public school you never get warnings, you always get five minutes on the wall, even if it’s your first time.
  19. [At public school] you couldn’t really talk at lunch and sometimes if you did you’d get five minutes on the wall. At TCS you can take a bite and then go play and come back.
  20. The rules at TCS are good because we get to make them. At public school they have all these rules and you can’t make any others because they are already made. At public school the teacher that teaches the class makes the rules before you even get there. At TCS the rules can change all through the year by teachers or kids. At public school the teachers make you follow the rules and punish you. At TCS everyone can write up someone else for breaking rules, and the JC [Judicial Committee] thinks of the consequence for the kid or whoever it is.
  21. At public school the only time you get to use your imagination is when you are not paying attention, and you are supposed to pay attention. At TCS you can imagine whenever you want, and I like that. I like to imagine.
  22. In public school I didn’t feel good about everyone else getting in trouble; I never got in trouble. The reason I said that I was no good was because that was the way I felt. I don’t know why I felt that way. I don’t like it when kids get consequences at TCS either. It sometimes makes me feel bad, sort of, but most of the time I think consequences are good.
  23. At TCS when I come up with an idea I can do something about it. The origami store was my idea and quite a few people decided to do it together. In public school I can’t really do that kind of thing- only the teachers can.
  24. I would like to practice typing more. I would like to learn more about Sweden and Japan. I’m already taking Japanese. I would like to study music, especially on the baritone ukulele, and art, by visiting art museums and getting some classes.