Since first learning that I was going to be a father, I’ve worried about many things. I’d never connected well with children and, as an intellectual, I was barely ever a child myself. Much had changed as I learned to communicate with and appreciate my daughter Niera, but she was 10 when we met. I had a powerful hand in the direction of her education and lifestyle as she bore down on her teenage years, and I am eternally proud of the young woman she has become. But I never knew her as a small child, and upon recognizing what the future held in the summer of 2008, I was nervous about the days ahead.
None of that really mattered after Gabriel was born. Life has a way of putting perspective on the things that really matter. Don’t get me wrong… I have friends who play with their children as if children themselves, and I have always envied their easy manner and the relationship that blossoms in its wake. But his education – understanding what I can do to help him learn and grow – has always remained at the forefront of my mind. My father had been far from perfect, and his involvement in my life at a young age was spotty at best… but I know that there were things he desperately wanted to impart to me as a child: a sense of loyalty and responsibility, a level of independence and self-reliance, and a toolkit for critical thinking.
About six years ago, I was listening to a gaming podcast featuring an interview with Meg Baker of Nightsky Games, an indie RPG publisher, who recounted her intention to homeschool her children after she and her own siblings had been similarly raised. Each of them had grown to be successful professionals, and she credited much of that success, and a penchant for following her dreams, to her education. She commented that just as children are reaching first grade, when their imaginations and personalities are bursting at the seams to help begin forging their true sense of self and identity, they are being piled into a public school system where they are told to conform, never question authority, sit down and shut up. I had already earned at least one degree in Psychology, and my critical instincts told me that I really needed to pay attention to this idea. After dealing with public school’s inability to adequately support my daughter’s needs in previous years, I was already disillusioned with the antiquated educational model that focused on test scores, funding requirements, internal politics, and idealized conformity.
My wife and I discussed the situation at length before Gabriel started school, and we sadly came to the conclusion that we both had to keep working full time to support our family and our household. Homeschooling was not an option, as neither of us could devote sufficient time and energy to the practice to be confident in the outcome. I found blogs and articles on alternative education fascinating, but I had no idea how to make a decision about my child’s education that would satisfy my needs as a parent, his needs as a growing boy, and the future I wanted for him. That was when I encountered the Sudbury educational philosophy, and my wife and I joined hands with two local young ladies who had a unique vision.
For us, Wichita Sudbury School started on a rainy October afternoon in a park just a stone’s throw from the store front that now operates as our school building. The premise of the school was compelling. Students are offered a unique opportunity to learn, not based on an established curriculum or a predetermined set of rules and expectations, but through the auspices of their own vital interests, free play and independence, and with minimal interference. It’s a democratic institution wherein every student and faculty member has an equal voice, placing the impetus for maintaining a mutually beneficent environment for personal growth directly in the hands of the participants. And learning is not the province of a teacher in a classroom, but instead relies on the student’s passion for experiencing new things. With a smaller number of students and the resources of our local culture, focused educational opportunities, public and private programs, and the endless providence of the world wide web, a student’s experiences can expand well beyond the scope of a row of desks and standardized lesson plans.
It was also frightening. As parents, our responsibility to make the right choice can be paralytic. Many of us seek the course of least resistance, which often leads to the public schoolroom or the expenditure of loads of extra cash to find a private school more in line with our personal philosophy. And for some students, there is no right or wrong decision. The Sudbury model – often referred to as “unschooling” in deference to a child’s struggle with autonomy after experiencing more regimented institutional learning – certainly isn’t ideal for every student, and unsurprisingly isn’t typically a cheap alternative, either. In fact, look up Sudbury schools online and you’ll find dozens of fine academic institutions that had served their communities for decades, mostly established on private estates with beautiful landscaping, all kinds of space for the children to enjoy, and tuition that’ll make your eyes bleed. So here was our next challenge… how to launch a school that affords similar opportunities without making it exclusively available to the upper crust of society or requiring parents to explore new levels of academic debt.
And most worrisome of all… how do we know that we’re making the right decision? If we don’t force our children to learn math and science and history and language arts, aren’t we doing them a disservice? Are we churning out a small cadre of ignorant children who are unable to function in the adult world? Are we depriving them of vital opportunities? Can they even hope to go to college? Will I be able to look my child in the eye as an adult and be proud of the decision I made to tear him from the facile halls of public education and put him in charge of his own education?
So, more research.
In many ways, the Sudbury educational model requires us as parents to “unschool” ourselves even more than it does for our children. We’ve been trained to accept a lot of assumptions: that a generalized burden of knowledge of varying degrees of value equates to a proper education; that learning is about absorbing information and accepting the wisdom of others as fact; that questioning authority and expressing individuality makes life difficult and is often unrewarding. And how about the idea that educating our children is not our responsibility but that of a faceless institution? We don’t always even know what they’re teaching, and how much of the information they try to shovel into our child’s head is useful, fulfilling, or even lasting.
The Road to Sudbury has been long and more than a little complicated, and in truth it started many years ago. I have some wisdom to share and a few more stories to tell – and I will – but ultimately I want to impart the same lesson that we try to instill in our students. The lesson that has allowed – no, empowered – me to focus on this alternative educational opportunity for my son. It isn’t sufficient to shove knowledge in your direction and consider that a means of educating you… the goal is to teach you how to learn. How to embrace new ideas and explore them with open eyes and an active role in their development. Because much like us parents, students who enter the adult world with the self-confidence built from an education they achieved through their own efforts,values, and choices…
… Can accomplish anything.
As always, the arbitrary turning of the calendar and the widespread recognition of celebratory renewal brings with it an opportunity to reassess the course of my life and resolve to make it better, more meaningful, or more impactful. The last few years have presented me with new challenges and exciting opportunities for personal growth, and I have no desire to slack off at this juncture.
