To What Will They Return?

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

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

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

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

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

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

I am (not) Autism

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When I was 15, I dropped out of school. It was more of a passive decision than an active one. I just decided I was sick of sitting in a classroom for an hour learning facts that I either knew already or didn’t need to know at all. I didn’t announce to my mom “I’m going to drop out of school”. I just didn’t go. I refused to.

This wasn’t unusual for me. I always had a history of hating school, since I was bullied since first grade and the school did absolutely nothing to stop it. But with college looming on the horizon in several years, I think the school district (and my parents) finally decided to do something about it. The district organized several meetings with my parents, the school staff, and my teachers from the previous year. I was never at these meetings, nor was I invited. But every month or so, right on schedule, my mom would come home with printed information and brochures on faraway boarding schools that specialized in disabled children.

That first set of papers was also the first time I realized that the public school system didn’t see me as an individual. To them, I was a diagnosis.

I wasn’t Emma Elizabeth Boers, as it was printed on my birth certificate. I wasn’t a being of any sort.

I was Autism.

After a failed period of being homeschooled, my mom found the Hudson Valley Sudbury School online. We drove down an hour and a half to Woodstock to visit in the middle of a dreary December night. I knew after the informational meeting that this is where I wanted to go. I canceled my meeting with a Montessori school the next day, my mom paid the fee for the visiting week, and it was settled.

My first day, I moped around the halls feeling lonely. The school’s environment was so social, it was difficult for me to even try to fit in. What would they say if I talked out of turn or said something stupid? I didn’t understand how I would ever fit in. I walked into a room of gamers and thought it would be a good idea for me to bring a few video games the next day. And the next day, I suddenly became the game room’s favorite new student.

After a few long weeks of nothing but Super Smash Bros. Brawl, I was slowly becoming more social. I still didn’t understand what was and wasn’t appropriate to say or do, but I at least decided to speak up instead of being quiet and not talking to people. Slowly but surely, my social skills were improving far beyond what they ever were in public school. I was never afraid to talk to different people, new people, people I didn’t know. Bullying seemed almost nonexistent (though I had issues with a few students) and I felt like I was actually accepted by other beings for once in my life.

While at HVSS, I also decided to pursue my old interest in writing. I had written an (unpublished) novella at the age of 13, but stopped writing when I couldn’t get it published. It was bad, and I realized that, but I also felt like with classes and homework out of the way I had the strength to pursue something like that again. I started on the first draft of the novel Leech Child at HVSS, with the support and advice of the staff.

Near the end of my first year at HVSS I was sitting in the lounge, chatting with some of the other students, when the subject of mental disability came up. I offhandedly mentioned something about my autism, not even thinking about how people might respond.

“Oh, you have autism? Wow, I never would have guessed.”

“Yeah, me neither.”

The responses came one after the other, and even as the conversation moved on, I was shocked. Why weren’t they making fun of me? Isn’t it obvious I’m different?

I thought about it for a bit, and a realization came to me – Sudbury, as a whole, was different. The philosophy was obviously different than the compulsory schooling most kids were used to. The kids were nicer, funnier, and more social. The parents cared more about their children, and the staff didn’t take the job for any superficial reason – they loved kids, and they loved to teach them the way they were supposed to be taught.

We were different, and I loved it.

Several more years passed by, and my mom moved down to Woodstock so I could attend the school more easily. I learned to play Magic: the Gathering, hosted several games of Pokemon D&D, Espionage and Dokapon Kingdom, started school wide projects like making Shrinky Dinks for the craft fair, made Cheeze Whiz flavored gumdrops, and generally had an excellent time. Leech Child was coming along well and I even served on the Judicial Committee, something I thought I would have never been able to do.

At the end of what would be my last year at HVSS, I walked up in front of a whole crowd of people carrying a sheet of notebook paper, and I recited the speech I had written down. I was shaking, and my mouth seemed to move on its own, and I think I cried a bit at the end, but it was beautiful.

It’s been a bit more than six months since I left HVSS, if my memory is right. I’m not in college yet because I wanted some time off to pursue my interests – writing, art, and game development – but I’m hoping to go to Hudson Valley Community College in the fall, and I have little doubt that they’ll accept me. Leech Child is on its third or fourth revision, and I think it’s going well.

Probably the best side effect of HVSS for me was that I began to accept who I was. That I was a being, a person, a somebody. I wasn’t a diagnosis or a label. I could be whatever I wanted to be, within reason, and that was okay.

Today I’m going to announce that in the long run, I’m okay with who I am. Sometimes I might falter or lose faith in myself but for the most part, I appreciate the young adult I’m turning into.

I’m a writer. I’m genderqueer. I’m an artist. I’m a misanthrope. I’m geeky. I’m autistic. Some people know me as Emma, while others know me as Seika or Ness.

But none of these alone are really me.

Sudbury, both the philosophy and the community, helped me realize this. No being is a label, or even a collection of them. We are all a collection of unique experiences and stories, and we each have the potential to contribute something positive to this planet, no matter how small.

It’s okay to be YOU.

And so my story comes to an end. I am NOT Autism. I am Ness, and this is the beginning of a (hopefully) long list of contributions I will make to planet Earth:

Listen to your child. Do they enjoy school? If not, something is wrong. Learning should be an enlightening experience. It shouldn’t be a jail.

Your kid will tell you the truth. After all, kids are the most honest people on Earth.

Well, except for me. I’m a bit too brutally honest for my own good.

And I’m okay with that.

Clued In: Behind the Scenes of the Theater Co-op’s Performance

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I have been working in theater for the past 12 years (directing for 9), and in that time I have worked with numerous groups of peers and students of all ages. During those experiences a few habits of each group emerged that made the rehearsal process challenging. Yet, with the students at HVSS the challenges never matched normal group tendencies.

Earlier this year we took a vote in the theater co-op for which play we wanted to perform; each had it’s own challenges in terms of sets to build, characters to perform and staging to memorize. Clue was chosen by a landslide, I knew it was going to be one of the most complex shows I had ever worked on. The number of scene changes and props alone were impossible to keep track of, not to mention the fact that most of the actors are on stage 90 percent of the time and Mr. Wadesworth alone has nearly 400 lines.

But we forged ahead, step by step, and I found that even with this challenging piece, many of the normal challenges for this age range of students were not appearing. This group of students was responsible for themselves, got to rehearsal on time, and wanted to be there, putting in the work. They were happy to be playing characters and saying their lines. Because doing this show is part of their school work, during school hours, we could rehearse when they were fresh and full of energy.

We moved through the rehearsals more swiftly than I anticipated, which left us with time to play and explore character work (another place I have previously noticed challenges with most students – willingness to try something new). With a few rare exceptions, the cast was always ready to try whatever new game and voice or movement I asked of them, making for a more dynamic and energetic show. They were so open to play and explore that all I had to do was suggest a path and they would run down it full speed. I was able to conduct rehearsals the same way I do with college students. I often forgot I was working with kids who would be in middle school. I treated them and asked of them the same focus I would from a professional environment.

In fact, this is a show I would have been hesitant about doing with adults because of the complicated transitions, important comedic timing and stamina to be on stage for so long. Yet this group of what would be middle-schoolers (plus a 6 year old) pulled it off beautifully. I could not be more impressed.

An Educated Person

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Education is a misunderstood term. It is often confused with related concepts such as knowledge and school. Education sometimes happens at school (and sometimes doesn’t), and knowledge can be a sign of an education, but neither are education itself. Simply put, education is the willingness and ability to learn for the sake of learning. The truly educated person learns constantly without supervision or external reward. To truly define what education is, we must first look at what it is not.

People generally think of school when education is brought up. School can be more than learning skills, memorizing facts, and putting them down on paper hoping to be rewarded with a good grade. The intended purpose of school is to teach students to think critically, which is something it often accomplishes. However, school is not education itself; it is a medium for students to reach their goal of being educated. School traditionally attempts to do this by setting up a course of external rewards for students to attain, each supposedly bringing the student closer to being truly educated. College is seen as the final goal for high school students.

College represents the ultimate form of education, and graduating from college is when people are certified as educated. It is not that simple. After college, an infinite amount of learning can be accomplished. School is like a trail to follow in a deep forest, giving students a taste of knowledge. However, to truly learn, people have to do it themselves. Educated people should develop a habit of constant learning without structure and reward.

An educated person in some people’s eyes is someone who knows a lot, someone who has retained a large amount of information, someone who can state facts without having to look them up. Broad knowledge can be valuable, but this is not an educated person. This is a knowledgeable person. To be educated is not about how much someone knows. It is about how someone can use what that person knows to enhance their learning experience. Knowing all the facts in the world won’t make a person educated unless that person can use those ideas for the sake of gaining more knowledge. On the other hand if someone is full of ideas but lacks the knowledge to put them to use, their creativity is void. It takes both creativity and knowledge to make a truly educated person.

Being an educated person is to view the world as your playground. It is to think with an open mind and to never be limited to what one has been taught as truth. It is to blur the line between work and play and to learn not just because one is told to. An educated person is someone who learns for fun and recognizes that there is no end to learning, no final certification. This skill could have been gained through any number of means, but when someone has it, it is apparent. Any person can become educated; it simply takes the will to learn for the sake of learning and living.

There and Back Again: through Sudbury’s doors

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

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

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

 

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

 

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

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

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

Sudbury and the Quarter-life Crisis

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why are you sponsoring that motion, Matthew?

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

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

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

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

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

Perspective from an Alumna (Part 2)

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

World Dance Residency

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

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

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

ONE

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

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

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

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

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

Links to Marina’s Projects

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

Perspective from an Alumna (Part 1)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Giving

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This week’s blog is a joint effort from Staff Members Vanessa Van Burek and Matthew Gioia.  They both reflect on their recent experiences with gifts, giving and community.

One thousand.

That is the number of children that the People’s Place of Kingston, a local food pantry, is trying to collect gifts for this holiday season.

As I prepare for Christmas in my own house I find myself excited for Christmas morning; for the unpacking of stockings, the huge smiles, the peeking through the french doors at a tree laden with wrapped goodies. I am fortunate. I have the time and the money to invest in my children having a magical Christmas. But many people aren’t as lucky. While we busied ourselves with Christmas preparations we also stumbled upon the recent New York Times article “Invisible Child”. The article follows Dasani, a girl struggling to survive as her family lives in a shelter in NYC. It was a humbling and devastating article and the timing made a huge impression on Ava, who, like Dasani, is eleven. Ava said “She’s my age and she is taking care of her whole family. What am I doing? Sitting here looking at my computer.”

That’s where community comes into play. This year our School Meeting passed a motion to partner with People’s Place of Kingston to help collect gifts. Beginning at the Winter Gift Sale, cards were strung through the school, each with the age and gender of a registered child. Shoppers selected the card or cards they wanted and purchased gifts at the sale for them. Vendors were supportive of the effort and offered deep discounts for shoppers purchasing gifts for this program. By the end of the day we had 25 high quality gifts – 25 purchases that supported local artists; a win – win.

In addition, Sudbury families purchased gifts at other locations and dropped them at the school. Over 100 presents were collected. The kids were beaming with pride and excitement as we packed the car full of gifts to take down to People’s Place. We can’t end homelessness, but we all have the ability to at least provide a smile to a deserving child.

After we dropped off the gifts I asked Ava how she felt.  She said, “I felt proud to be a part of collecting gifts. I felt like a Superhero. Helping collect gifts is one small step. It made me feel better because it’s going to kids like Dasani.”

-Vanessa

 

I finally got to witness and participate in HVSS’s famous “Secretive Santa” game last Friday.  I must admit, I was unprepared for it, and in retrospect handled my shopping for it a bit nonchalantly.  The whole morning an anticipatory buzz filled the school.  There was shrieking, giggling, and lots of nervous pacing (running). It felt…like Christmas.  There was the “Christmas miracle” of zero JC complaints to handle.  Oh, and there was a brief, halfhearted “war on Christmas,” speedily quelled. One student stood on a chair in the lounge watching the clock, reliably (loudly) counting off each minute until 11 o’clock.  

The gifts were opened one-by-one, because everyone wanted to see every gift.  As each recipient opened their gift they held it aloft so the crowd could gaze, mutter proclamations of astounded joy under their breath, and then shout and clap with glee.  I’m not kidding.  I was impressed by how well thought out and selected the gifts were; they matched their recipients perfectly, even when there were significant age gaps or the giver-receiver pair hadn’t spent much time together.  Very observant group.  Reflecting on this, I realized the real value of the whole Secretive Santa game, and I felt remiss for failing to properly honor and respect it myself.  The game, from the selecting of names, to the sleuthing for information, to the grand event, strengthens the school community, creating fresh bonds and invigorating old ones.  It felt like a family event and, if I may be a a bit dramatic and use some religious metaphor, that fulfilled the promise of Christmas for me: the revelation of family-like community.

I don’t have any studies to site today, but it seems self-evident to me that kind of community – larger than the nuclear family and including a greater variety of people than a single family ever could, but still caring and attentive – is the best kind environment for kids to grow, mature, and just be in.

Halleluja.

– Matthew