Let’s Talk About Screens; “Screen Time” and Self-Directed Education

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There is an ongoing cultural debate about “screen time” and its effects on well-being. Most of the evidence is theoretical or anecdotal; there are no large-scale studies, meta-analyses, or longitudinal studies involving children and touchscreens. The debate is often confounded by the breadth of activity included in the term, “screen time.” This article won’t take a position on whether screen use is inherently good or bad, or on whether “over-use” even exists; instead, it describes how the Self-Directed Education (SDE) environments mitigate the potential of over-use and its associated suite of problems, while also creating a productive space for the “screen time” debate to unfold.

Screen Use in Self-Directed Education Spaces

As noted, in most SDE environments, there are no restrictions on how much students can use their screens. Upon receipt of this knowledge, some people assume the student body at a school like ours – the Hudson Valley Sudbury School – must be a zombie horde of proto-cyborgs: incontinent, drooling, and endlessly gazing into their glowing, jewel-like screens. But the truth is even more startling: screen use at our school is moderate.

It seems fair to suggest that insofar as people are turning towards their screens more and more, they may be attempting to meet basic psychological needs, such as the three proposed by Self-Determination Theory:

  1. Competence (seek to control the outcome and experience mastery),
  2. Relatedness (will to interact, be connected to, and experience caring for others), and
  3. Autonomy (desire to be causal agents of one’s own life).

Self-Directed Education environments create conditions which may satisfy these needs, thereby negating the need to “escape” into a screen. They do so in the following ways:

  1. They allow students to choose from a theoretically unlimited list of activities, as opposed to the strictly limited options available in traditional schooling environments. This condition increases the odds of each student finding something they might learn to do master. Since students are free to move at their own pace, to experiment, and to work privately or with the company and instruction of others, they are less likely to be discouraged by failure and more likely to attain competence over a broad range of skills.
  2. They tend to feel more familial than institutional. “Screen time” is usually intensely social and offers lots of occasions for connection, both online and with friends at school. The freedom to choose companions, and to spend as much time as wanted with those companions, provides opportunities to develop deep and meaningful connections.
  3. If nothing else, SDE offers the chance to be the causal agent of one’s own life; full autonomy is central to the very definition of the concept of SDE.

One ability which is particularly relevant to screen over-use is self-regulation, which overlaps the first and third psychological need above. Self-regulation requires competence over a variety of skills, including lay-psychology, introspection, willpower, prioritization, and planning. SDE provides spaces for young people to begin mastering these skills – and in SDE environments they tend to do so in earnest, because they are responsible for themselves, and they know it.

Young people appreciate being trusted with the responsibility, just as adults take it for granted, and they feel that it’s right that they should be, and they rise to that occasion. It’s not that young people in SDE environments are self-disciplined ascetics – self-mastery is a lengthy and lofty project, just ask your local wisdom tradition – but they do tend to be “advanced” in this area, especially after a few years. If you ask around at our school, many teenagers will tell you things like, “I don’t use instagram at school; it’s not what I’m here for,” or, “I don’t bring my tablet to school so I can focus on my friendships.”

The bottom line is that “over-use” is less likely to occur at our school, and that when it does occur anyway, it is less likely to persist, and that when it does persist anyway, the environment is supportive of the phenomena running its course in a healthy manner.

Solving the (Potential) Problem

The focus of this section is the Sudbury model, and Hudson Valley School in particular, because that’s what I know first-hand, but much here will also be true for other SDE spaces. The Sudbury model provides a hopeful platform for working towards reasonable solutions to any problems posed by screen-use. By utilizing a democratic governance structure and – even more importantly – by building a “democratic ethos,” Sudbury facilitates productive communication.

Recently, France passed a national law prohibiting public school students from bringing their phones to school in order to intercept what administrators and teachers saw as a slew of problems phones were causing in their schools. But prohibition has a poor track record; it’s riddled with psychological hazards, and it subverts the need for autonomy and debilitates communication by setting up an antagonistic dynamic between those with power and those without. Sudbury schools, by contrast, are direct democracies, and there is no authority separate from and above the student body. This simple yet astounding circumstance sets everyone at ease from the get-go. The ethos of the school is likewise democratic, in the best sense: staff and students regard each other as fundamentally equal, and the right to be and to express oneself is universally respected. There’s something like a vibrational field of equality which protects the school culture; it’s not that there aren’t differences among us, or that power is never abused; it’s that we respect each other’s autonomy. An equivalent ethos – and therefore arena for conversation – can be found in many other SDE spaces, including those which do not operate as direct democracies.

Taken together, our structure and ethos facilitate clear and honest communication; because there isn’t a power differential between any two parties – and the threat of patronizing regulation or prohibition is absent – real, vital conversations can unfurl. Students and staff alike relax and talk without fear of retaliation. It’s like your friend who’s a good listener and doesn’t judge you: you talk to them, and the conversations are enormously helpful in processing your experience and moving forward. Contrast this to conversations you have with that friend (or family member) who moralizes, jumps to conclusions, and gives unsolicited advice (usually along the lines of, “you should be more like me,”): you avoid talking to them, and when they do get their hooks into you, you resent them and their message; it’s counterproductive.

Many SDE spaces, including Sudbury Schools, have formal platforms for communication as well. At a recent meeting here at HVSS a group of teenagers actually brought up the issue of “screen overuse” in our wider society, and asked for discussion on how we might proactively address it at school. Prohibition theoretically possible, but impossible to imagine: if anyone formally proposed it, every School Meeting Member would show up with their pitchforks and torches, ready to defend their freedom. So the meeting was creative, and several promising ideas were proposed, including the creation of a “scree-free” zone in the building, a petition which willing parties could sign, agreeing to put their screens down during certain times, and the organization of more school-wide activities. Discussions like these usually don’t lead to the adoption of any new policy or law, but they do affect the school culture, and our culture is more important than our legal structure anyway, because it’s more influential on students’ experience at school.

The fact is screens are not going anywhere, and no doubt more are on the way. To the extent that their use may include hazards, the best safeguards against them are found in free and equal spaces such as those created by SDE: 1. The opportunity to live a rich life which satisfies our needs, and 2. A space to grapple with the issues in a supportive community of productive communication which sharpens minds, challenges assumptions, and lends courage. SDE environments are thus well positioned to navigate the the incoming tide of screens, as well as other approaching oceans.

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.

What Are They Learning?

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What do kids learn at The Circle School? More than I can know or name, I’m sure. But what do we see them learning? Here’s what some of the staff have seen in recent months …

I have seen kids learn to value reading as a functional tool. They read the agenda for the School Meeting to determine whether or not to attend this week. They read about upcoming field trips and other events on the front door. When they serve on the JC they must read the complaints they are investigating. They read the muffin recipe, to divvy up the ingredients for various people to bring in. They read the school law book to determine what law was broken, so they can fill out a JC complaint.

I have seen kids learning to value writing as a functional tool. They discover that in order to be certified to use the telephone, they have to be able to write well enough to write down a message and have the certifier read it. They write letters to their favorite TV and movie stars. They must write down the bylaws of their corporations for approval by the School Meeting. They must compose clear and concise motions to be presented to either the School Meeting or the Assembly.

I have seen kids learn perseverance as they work on projects dear to their hearts, for hours at a time.

I have seen six-, seven-, and eight-year-olds learning basic math skills as they “play” a computer game, working together to solve 100 multiplication and division equations.

I have seen kids learn how to remind themselves that they must be someplace at a certain time. They independently and with no prompting by adults, gather their things at 3:15pm and sit on the front couches waiting for the bus.

I have seen kids learn how to devise systems to remind themselves to do their daily chores, and to check off their completed chore on the chore checklist. Their various systems have included signs at their cubbies reminding them or asking an adult to let them know when it is a certain time.

I have seen kids learn how to keep a clean and neat cubby, after being written up and having to appear before the JC one too many times for having a cubby that continually spilled its guts onto the floor.

I have seen kids learn problem solving skills, working with each other and adults to hammer out certification procedures for safe, proper use of the computers, the sewing equipment, the piano, and the upstairs.

I have seen kids learn how to enjoy being with an adult (formerly viewed as someone to avoid if possible). They discuss what they did on the weekend, the latest Star Trek show, last night’s political debate, a book they were currently reading, or how to compose a rule that would address all the issues involved in messes made at school by groups of kids working together around a table.

I have seen kids learn to transfer skills from one area to another. They write signs for the front door using printing skills they had been practicing from a calligraphy book. They use paper folding tricks, also learned from a book, to create their handmade Valentines or to design an individualized birthday page.

I have seen kids learn how to deal with difficult interpersonal situations, by refining problem solving skills and becoming more flexible. For example, what rules are necessary for this game to be pleasant enough for all who want to to play? Should there be different rules for different ages? For different skill levels? What is fair? What is not fair? What is safe? What is not safe and might invite intervention by an adult?

I have seen kids learn how to monitor their environment and say to each other, “It’s too noisy down here for us. Let’s go upstairs where it is quiet. ”

I have seen children learn to draw on community resources. A five-year old went with an adult to the library to find a recipe for pancakes and then to the grocery store to purchase ingredients to make them.

I have seen kids learn to control their natural inclination to move constantly, watching them attend a meeting of a corporation or a committee that really interests them -such as the ad hoc committee appointed by the School Meeting to recommend what to do about the television set at The Circle School.

I have seen kids learn to make mistakes, admit them, and make amends.

I have seen kids learn the value of advertising. They planned to make and sell food one day, but due to a lack of notification, very few customers had cash on hand and the food items didn’t sell as briskly as they had hoped.

I have seen kids learn how to do things they don’t want to do. They sit and wait and wait and wait through a boring School Meeting for the motion they want to vote on. They bite the bullet and clean up someone else’s mess because they want to use an area that has been closed because it was too messy.

I have seen kids learn how to write IOU’s so they can purchase a food item. I have also seen kids learn to remember to pay off their IOU’S, after being refused a subsequent loan.

I have seen kids learn that there are ways to learn, other than being taught by an adult. I watch them teach each other to throw a football, to multiply and divide, to knit, to write.

I have seen kids learn how to effectively run meetings. I watch them chair the School Meeting, attending to old business, new business, motions, discussions, points of order, votes, reports, and announcements. I watch them chair committee meetings, less formal perhaps, but still requiring orderly proceedings guided by an effective chairperson.

I have seen kids learn how to express themselves through painting, music, sewing, knitting, quilting, and dramatic play.

I have seen kids learn how to tune out distractions, intently reading a book on the couch while all around them others are talking.

I have seen kids learn to value themselves, as they see the adults around them honoring to the greatest extent possible their choices about how they spend their time and how, when, where, and what they choose to learn.

I have seen kids learn how to listen to themselves to discover what turns them on, what they are particularly drawn to and not drawn to, what they want to do next.

I have seen boys learning to knit -casting on, knitting, purling. And I have seen girls learning football -passing, catching, making downs.

I have seen kids of all ages learn to play physical games together -finding ways to avoid hurting younger kids while still challenging the older ones.

I have seen kids learn design skills. They create a design, then make a pattern from it, and then sew it into reality.