Truth. I am a little surprised that the reaction from friends and family to the idea of starting a Sudbury school has been wholly positive. And for those whose reaction is a little doubtful, they are helping me to improve my pitch about starting the school.
Most of the people I have shared the concept with have asked questions and smiled. Some nodded and moved onto to other topics or wished me the best of luck. And then there were the ones whose eyes lit up, who see this as the school they have been looking for their son, daughter, grandson or granddaughter. They want to know more. When will it open? Where will it be? How much will it cost? What happens when you finish with your Sudbury education?
I was expecting something different. In talking with other founders who have launched a Sudbury School, each has shared with me the stories of adults who have had an overtly negative reaction to the idea that kids can be in charge of their own education. Some got downright angry. A few even tossed out threats.
For those of you who are considering Sudbury for your child, or are planning to support the decision of a family member or friend to embark on this journey, be prepared for the negative nancy to come along and blurt out, “Have you lost your mind?”
It is for you that I share this essay borrowed from Johanna Schmidt, a longtime Fairhaven School parent and author. I have copied the text from the Fairhaven School blog.
Are You Thinking Sudbury Parents Must be Insane?
Back when both of my children went to a highly rated public Montessori School, I occasionally ran into acquaintances whose children attended Fairhaven School. I smiled and nodded politely as they described the model of this “free school” where the kids decided to do whatever they wanted all day, while thinking “Are you CRAZY?” I couldn’t believe that any intelligent and loving parent would take such a risk with their child’s education. Didn’t we all agree that solid education was the only way a person could accomplish anything in this mad world? Were their children sad misfits who simply couldn’t survive other more conventional models of schooling or were they (the parents) impossible idealists completely cut off from reality as we all know it?
Understand, I am a career educator, started teaching right out of college and never fully stopped. I have taught in public schools, private schools, taught adults, children, and currently teach and administer a program at University of Maryland, partially because I want to be able to afford to send my children there someday. So I have a lot invested in the world of education as we know it. If it’s all a big mess than what on earth have I been doing all these years? If kids don’t actually need teachers, then surely college-age students don’t need me. How threatening is that?
So. Here’s what happened. My eldest son B, got up to 7th grade, where the high-performing public Montessori school took especial pride in preparing a high percentage of their students to successfully test their way into the math and science public magnet school in our area that has the reputation (there’s just no other way to say it) of being the ONLY option for people who can’t afford private school. We were told that all the 7th graders would be doing between 30 and 100 math problems a night, in homework, in order to increase their prowess and take their rightful places as rulers of the planet. And I broke. I snapped. I couldn’t see it, couldn’t do it, couldn’t subject my child or my family life to it, suddenly thought “Good grief, K-12 is all institutionalized academic rigor and stress and tests, then University is more institutional academic rigor and stress and tests….what kind of education is that, really?” and I compared my own paltry schooling but extremely happy childhood with the one I was providing for my son, shook my head in disgust, and began looking for alternatives.
One thing led to another and I found myself on the back porch at a neighborhood party while two enthusiastic parents related how their son, who had been miserable at a neighborhood public school, actually enjoyed going to Fairhaven, was happy and acting more responsibly at home, and was occasionally cooking them eggs for breakfast without even being asked! Will you think less of me if I admit it was the promise of my progeny becoming some sort of unpaid cook/housekeeper that made me start to listen? And once I started listening and entertaining dangerous thoughts, I couldn’t stop. Then I visited the campus and I was sold. I wondered “How could a place that feels so good be bad for my sons?” In retrospect, I wish I had had the emotional courage to ask myself years before, how could a place that felt as bad as their former school felt, possibly be good for them.
My husband and I took a deep breath, clutched each other’s hands, and in the face of more raised eyebrows than you can shake a power point presentation at, we jumped off the educational cliff. That’s what it felt like to me, enrolling at Fairhaven.
The first thing I noticed was different about B. after he started at Fairhaven was that all of his health problems evaporated. Asthma, allergies, digestion problems, all of which he had suffered for his entire K-6th grade years. All gone. He didn’t take many classes that first year, and that really freaked me out. But he was happy and healthy, and my husband and I decided maybe we were just giving him a well-needed break. He was doing such interesting things and had great friendships so I knew it wasn’t an entirely bad move, but we weren’t complete believers yet; I kept worrying about my son’s pathway to college. I couldn’t see it. If I list for you here my son’s involvements and accomplishments, and why I now believe my son will be able to create a future for himself, it will sound an awful lot like bragging, and B. will not allow me to publish this blog. He’s a thoughtful, modest fellow and would prefer to impress you in person. If he chooses to go to college, he’ll go. I can see that now. He’s fourteen. Why, I ask myself, why, why, why did I think I should be able to see it any sooner?