Frequently Asked Questions?

7 01 2010

I write this post to ask for your questions. The reason will, hopefully, become clear eventually. For now, let us just say this is for a project that Sören Kirchner (of tologo verlag) and myself have been thinking about for a couple of years now. This is the first step towards realizing it.

If you have been involved in democratic education for more than a day or two, you will know what I mean when I say that some questions are frequently asked. Whenever you have to explain democratic schooling to someone new, there are a few topics that will invariably come up: how do children learn in such a school?, isn’t that too much freedom? (or: don’t children need structure?), how can young people make wise decisions, for themselves and for the school?, etc. These are just a few – but we want more.

If you are involved in democratic education, send us questions you are often asked.

And if democratic education is new to you, you certainly have questions of your own, and we’d like to hear them.

You can send us your questions in the comments, or by email: michael at sappir dot net.


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Lisa Lyons: What I’ve Learned at Sudbury Schools (a staff retirement letter)

28 09 2009

I’d like to share this excellent retirement letter by Lisa Lyons, who worked at Evergreen Sudbury School in Maine and Fairhaven School in Maryland.

Below is the full text of the letter, forwarded to me by my mother in PDF form (link to PDF):

What I’ve Learned at Sudbury Schools

After sixteen years at Evergreen Sudbury School in Maine and Fairhaven School in Maryland, I retired in June. It was time to go and I have exciting plans, but leaving was hard. (And I hope to be back now and then as a sub.) I was tempted to write a thesis about how school has allowed me to prepare myself to become an effective adult, but at 65, if I’m not effective already, the chances of my making it are slim. I do know, however, that being a staff member has enriched my life beyond measure, and has made me a better and more useful person.

Getting to know and work with people like Danny, Hanna, Mimsy, and the bright, dedicated, funny staff at all the Sudbury schools, has stretched my mind and warmed my heart. The parents of our students are courageous, intelligent, and just basically outstanding, and then there are the kids—killer funny, outrageously smart, and adorable. Being surrounded by people who are dedicated to the idea that children are equally deserving of respect and freedom has been deeply satisfying, and a true learning experience.

So what have I learned at Evergreen and Fairhaven? For starters, I’ve learned that jumping enthusiastically into new projects without a lot of thought can have surprising life repercussions. I thought I could run a business and start a school on the side. That was sixteen years, a closed business, two schools, a major move, and two children graduating ago. I see jumping first/looking second as both a failure of imagination and a habit I acquired in conventional schools of always feeling rushed. Students at Sudbury schools have the time to develop their imaginations and to think things through. Because some of this has rubbed off on me, I jump into things more judiciously nowadays. But I’m everlastingly grateful for that Evergreen jump.

I’ve also learned some much-needed good habits. I pick up after myself, for example, before I move on to a new project. I learned this important lesson in my 40s at Evergreen, unlike our students, who learn it while still young. I became a professional organizer on the side five years ago because the process and aesthetics of being organized grew to interest me. Students, even the ones labeled ADD or ADHD learn (some immediately, some eventually) to use the systems set up in the art room and elsewhere, putting supplies back in their places, knowing that everything has a place. One of the pleasures of being a staff member has been the opportunity to see kids become competent, responsible members of the community.

I’ve learned that our view of our own kids isn’t the only view there is. We all think our kids are special and brilliant and couldn’t possibly do the bone-headed things other kids do. As a staff member with two kids at school, I was able to see that my kids—although, of course, brilliant and special—were among peers who were equally brilliant and special, and that my kids were just as capable of spinning tales at the dinner table about why they’d been hauled into JC through no fault of their own. And yes, even brilliant, special kids can do bone-headed things.

Working at a Sudbury school has taught me the benefits of a balanced life. As a student I was always studying; as a parent of babies, always changing diapers and playing baby games; as a graphic designer always hunched over my light table and then my computer. As a staff member I was a conversationalist, mentor, librarian, administrator, School Meeting member. And I had to remember to eat lunch. In fact, I had to remember to sit down and take a break, to jump up and bandage a knee, to play a game, to go see the skinks by the stream with enthusiastic six-year-olds. To do, in other words, what all students at Sudbury schools learn to do: create a life balancing work and play, solitude and community. Parents of gamers or bookworms or social butterflies often think that their kids do nothing all day every day but pursue their particular passion. They don’t. Readers read a lot at school, but they also, like the talkers and gamers, play outside, serve on JC, and talk endlessly with others. Shy kids learn to open up, extraverts learn to be quiet in the Quiet Room. And they all have to figure out, as do staff, how to balance their lives.

Being both a parent and a staff member has taught me that children are exquisitely attuned and vulnerable to parental feelings. Over the years I’ve made many mistakes as a parent, and even though my kids are grown, I’m sure they’d be happy to say that I’m making new ones all the time. I’ve toughened up, though. My stance now is that mistakes are inevitable, and it’s best to just be forgiving. One particular mistake, however, is important to try to avoid. As staff members, we see, over and over again, that the hardest hurdle for students are parents who show a lack of faith in the child and/or the school. Kids can deal with parents who get cranky, who forget to pick them up on time, who wring their hands about too much sugar. They can even deal with divorces and illnesses and money worries. What demoralizes them to the point of not being able to succeed at school is when their parents clearly lack faith in them or the school, and threaten them with being pulled out if they don’t do whatever academic thing the parent has decided is important. “Yes, you can be there, but you’re never going to succeed if you don’t [pick one] learn to read this year/learn math/focus on science.” Even subtle worrying can sap children’s morale. Will our students end up following a path their parents are comfortable with? Maybe, maybe not, but it will be a path they want to be on, a path they will follow with confidence—if they’ve had the whole-hearted support of their parents. As a parent I still worry about my children, but I think the routine expression of confidence and faith in them is absolutely critical.

Being at Sudbury schools has taught me patience, a virtue that has never come naturally. Watching many kids grow up over the years allows staff to take the long view. Kids can “waste” days, weeks, months of their lives playing computer games or collecting sticks in the woods, or sitting on the counters in the kitchen talking, and somehow grow into themselves—unique, irreplaceable, with all the survival skills they need to be effective adults. Growing up well isn’t testable. All the little epiphanies people aren’t even conscious of themselves, all the bits of information that add up to a whole, all the small decisions that add up to the development of a fine person—all of them are rarely visible from the outside. It’s hard to take the long view when it’s your own child and your friends are asking what her grade point average is. It’s much easier to take the long view as a staff member, who can see all the stages of growth all around us. One of the jobs of staff is to share our confidence that all will be well. Patience. Patience. Patience.

My years at Evergreen and Fairhaven deepened my respect for children. Parents are so busy taking care of their children (and worrying), that the luxury of just spending time with them as equals seldom happens. Being a staff member at Sudbury schools taught me, on a daily basis, how intelligent and interesting kids are, and how much they have to contribute. A five-year-old showed me how to peel the back off labeler tape, a trick I hadn’t figured out in years of use. A nine-year-old made a point in School Meeting that made me change my position on an important issue. A twelve-year-old shared facts about nature I had never learned in 20 years of schooling. A thirteen-year-old took photographs the equal of any professional’s. A fourteen-year-old made a witty remark that cracked me up. A sixteen-year-old had insight into another student that amazed me, and a seventeen-yearold dealt with family tragedy with a courage and resilience I tried to emulate when my mother died. Every day I shared my knowledge and experience, and every day students shared right back—their poetry, art, passion, humor, intelligence. The enormous resource we have in children is unseen in the larger culture. Only at Sudbury schools, and in some families, are young people treated with the respect all human beings deserve.

Watching students arrive, grow up, graduate, and leave, and watching other students arrive to take their places has taught me that no one can ever replace Thor or Alison or Jen or Eric or Marlee or Max or all the others, each one unique and fascinating. But it’s also taught me not to wallow in nostalgia, and to look ahead as students do each day, to a new and exciting future. Students and staff come and go, but what each of us contributes to the school stays, and makes it richer in tradition and experience each year. I’m so glad I’ve been able to be part of this best of all possible educations, the Sudbury schools experience.

— Lisa Lyons, August, 2009


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On addictive games (Kids Don’t “Need Structure”, Part 4)

19 09 2009

The two most common activities in a Sudbury schools are talk and free play. Conversation and free play are great things for children to engage in. These are universal human activities that people everywhere engage in readily whenever they can. It comes as no surprise that children choose to pursue them in an environment like Sudbury schools where no academic structure is imposed on their time.

I refer the interested reader to other sources regarding conversation and free play; you may find these at the bottom of this post, under Further reading.

To close this series of posts about children and academic structures, I will now turn to one other type of activity: video games. On occasion, I have heard the peculiar claim that, “okay, people seek novelty, but video games are addictive! Like heroin! They ruin everything and take away children’s freedom!”

In my experience, as much as video games may seem to engage people, a game can only retain its charm for so long, just like any other activity. People get sick of bad games because they get annoying after a while; people get sick of good games when they have mastered them to the point that the challenge is gone.

In all my years of gaming and involvement in the gaming community, I have not met many “game addicts”. However, those few I have met have always had real-life issues to run away from. It may be trouble at home, or it may be depression, but it seems the root of this obsessive behavior is the need to escape from something more serious. This becomes almost painfully obvious when you get over any prejudice you may have regading the nature of video games. Some people point at games in blame in these cases, but clearly the games are symptom, not cause. Even if a vicious circle is involved, I have not known people to truly spend too much time on games unless they need to escape from something else.

Still, one type of game is increasingly implicated in those cases where someone gets “addicted” to gaming, and I would like to say some words in defense of these games: multi-player games. Multi-player games have risen to prominence in the past decade thanks to rapidly improving Internet infrastructures that now allow people around the world to play together in real time. Games usually fall out of favor after a year or two, but in 2009 there are a few conspicuous games from the late 90’s that are still being played. The two most notable are Starcraft and Counter-Strike, and the primary reason they are still played is their excellent multi-player experience. Multi-player games can offer something off-line games cannot – a built-in social aspect.

The most successful and long-lasting multi-player games are either games that have effectively become competitive sports, or they are “MMOGs” – Massively Multi-player Online Games. The former are games like Starcraft, which has become a virtual sport which aspiring players train for regularly, hoping to succeed at tournaments with real cash prizes. Counter-Strike, a team-based game, is played by teams of friends (“clans”) who play together regularly and are more or less equivalent to soccer or basketball teams. MMOGs, such as mega-hit World of Warcraft, on the other hand, engage players with intricately-designed virtual worlds that offer not only challenges but masses of other players, as well as means – and excuses – to interact with them regularly.

In both cases, these games are so exceptionally successful because of the social aspect – rather than isolating players, they bring them together. If a player abandons the game, they abandon their friends, and this makes it much harder to leave these games behind. Much of the gaming and communicating takes place in the privacy of one’s home, but it is common for Counter-Strike clans and their World of Warcraft equivalents, guilds, to meet up, face-to-face, to play together on a local network or simply to hang out. These games forge connections between people, united by a common interest, giving rise to friendships and in some cases relationships – even marriages. Such a game may hold a person’s attention for a surprisingly long time on their own, but sooner or later the virtual experience tends to escalate. More often, they are interwoven from the very start, helped by the online communities where players meet to discuss the games they play. In fact, the players who spend the most time on their games are the ones most likely to make friends with other gamers, perhaps because they spend more time with the games, or because they need new social connections the most. Games can enable these players to find other like-minded people, and in the long run may do more good than harm, eventually giving players a reason to go out after all.

If you believe that children do indeed need structure, I would like to hear from you in the comments: What kind of structure do children need? Do all children need it? If not, which kinds of children do, and why? In particular, do you see video games as an especially disturbing activity? And finally, I would really like to hear from you what you are afraid may happen to a child who attends a school like mine – what could go wrong without adult structure and guidance?

Further reading

  • Peter Gray at Psychology Today has posted extensively on the subject of free play, for instance in this series: link.
  • “We were a small group of people bouncing ideas off each other” – the experience of  a Sudbury Valley School graduate who played a lot and never took a class. (From Kingdom of Childhood)

  • I wrote a piece published in unerzogen magazine in 2008 (link [English, PDF]), where I argued that free and open communication enables school democracy and free learning, and that these also reinforce the freedom of communication in return.

  • If you are concerned about video games, I have a book recommendation for you: Killing Monsters: Why Children Need Fantasy, Super Heroes and Make-Believe Violence, by Gerard Jones. I found it exceptionally informative and interesting.


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Kids don’t “need structure”, part 3

15 07 2009

I am back, and I would like to continue this series by addressing one more aspect (or interpretation) of the argument which I have called “some children need structure”. This version reads something like this: “some children, if not provided with extrinsic academic structure, will make bad use of their time and never succeed.” In conventional schooling, it is implied that this applies not only to some children, but to most. In the context of discussing democratic education, this argument, in only referring to “some”, implies something like, “many children can handle the freedom given in a democratic school with grace and make good use of their time, but some of them fail to make good that freedom and will never amount to anything without adults helping them along the right path”. Sadly, I have mostly heard this kind of argument coming from parents, talking about their own children. Unlike the version of this argument which I discussed in Part 2 of this series, this version suggests not that these “some children” will be unhappy in the short-term future (because of inability to cope with creating their own structures), but that the unhappiness will come later on in life, even if the child is perfectly happy right now.

This is where the distastefulness of this argument lies: who is to say that an individual should not be allowed to pursue a course of action that gives them present enjoyment and fulfillment? Is it justified by the promise of future success (or, one would hope, happiness)? After all, there’s nothing wrong with suffering for the promise of something that you want. But then, this is not about a child electing to have less fun in the present to secure the future they want – it is about adults saying the child should be enjoying life less than they do, to enjoy a future the adult judges best. And even when the choice is made by one for oneself, I fear that the long-term consequence of this attitude (so pervasive in Western culture), is that we forget how to enjoy life; if all we can do is busy ourselves with improving the future, when does the point come where we truly enjoy the present 1? And is any point in our lifespan too soon for this? Should we not be enjoying the present as much as possible?

However, in this case it is not an individual’s personal choice we are discussing. It is an adult individual’s choice for a younger individual mostly powerless to resist coercion. In the short-term, this amounts to adults making children miserable. Although the theories of how these structures will help them are fine, the reality is that increased structure does not promise happiness, nor even material success. Many students do their best in traditional schools and still end up unhappy and/or unsuccessful (by their own standards or those of others.) And many students in traditional schools do their best to avoid the academic structures’ influence, get horrible grades (or flunk, or drop out) and end up having a fabulous adult life they are perfectly happy with 2. And even if we were to assume that the right structure increases the likelihood of success, the end result is still making a kid have less fun because of the mere likelihood of enjoying their life more later on. If it were discovered that surgically removing all of your teeth statistically contributes to a longer life, would these same people elect to lose their teeth and switch directly to dentures? After all, the statistical probability does nothing to promise a particular individual will enjoy the benefits – it merely means such an individual has a better chance at them. The price is paid whether or not the results manifest.

But I doubt it is so effective to provide a child with academic structure or any sort of guided path to making the most of their time. Putting aside the argument I have already made in Part 2, that children need to learn to deal with free choice, I would like to take a look at the actual use children make of their time and free choice. When parents say “my child needs structure” about a perfectly happy child in a Sudbury school, likely as not, that child spends most of their time either talking or playing. If it is a younger kid, they are probably playing with friends most of the time 3. If it is an older kid, they are probably talking with friends, or playing video games, which some (very rarely) do alone 4. In the next part (or possibly parts) of this series, I will take a brief look at each of these activities and their value for young children.


1Alan Watts wrote wonderfully on this topic, among many others.

2Many end up rich and/or famous, so I challenge the reader to think of five famous examples from the past 100 years.

3But there are exceptions: my little brother, when he was 7-8 years old, spent most of his time simply walking around with a friend and talking.

4This is not to say that the majority of older students play video games – only that this is very often the cause for parents to start saying their child needs more structure.


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Blog on hiatus until mid-July

16 06 2009

Hi readers,

I realize it’s been weeks since my last post, and this is when the next post’s text is written and only needs to be edited… I’ve been so overloaded with schoolwork, work and EUDEC business that I really have not had time to get much else done. So I’ll admit the obvious and put the blog on hiatus until the semester is over. My last exam (Russian) is on July 11, a few days of recovery later I should be back to posting, finishing the Kids Don’t “Need Structure” series.

Meanwhile, follow my daily adventures on Twitter (link), or read one of the blogs on the right-hand column – they’re good!


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Kids don’t “need structure”, part 2

17 05 2009

In the previous part of this post, I introduced an argument often heard when discussing Sudbury schools: “Some children need structure!”; in this series of posts – originally just one post which couldn’t stop writing itself – I am exploring this argument and explaining why I disagree with it (even though I accept that it is true). In this part, I will explain my protest to the argument as it is used to justify adults introducing academic structures into democratic schools – “children need structure” in the sense that some children are unhappy, or experience hardship, when lacking academic guidance (..and thus we must provide them with some). It’s a long one, but I could not cut it down any shorter.

It is a fact that some young people experience difficulty when not provided with an extrinsic academic structure. This is true, I cannot argue otherwise, so strictly speaking, those making the argument are right. Of course, applying this only to “some” severely limits the extent to which this fact alone should affect our actions. But even if we were to believe that these “some” who have this difficulty are a significant proportion of children, I do not think people are born this way. When you observe a young child in free play, it is clear they have no “need” of extrinsic structure in this sense – they are perfectly engaged and happy without any adults’ intervention. You see the same with the younger students in a Sudbury school, the ones who have never gone to a traditional school – these children have no problem finding use for their time and are often surprised when the school day is over because they have been happily busy in self-directed activity and didn’t expect it to abruptly come to an end because some clock struck 3.

But if this argument doesn’t apply to the youngest children (presumably the least experienced and skilled), which children does it apply to? In my experience, the best match is those who have spent a few years in a traditional school and have gotten used to receiving a full program of instruction from adults. I have compared the situation with substance dependency – structure is like heroin or nicotine, there are individuals who need it, and the need is real – but it is not inborn. It is the result of habit, or conditioning – although a psychological habit is certainly not the same as a physical addiction. This really makes sense; after having their school time tightly managed for a few years, it is easy to understand why they are used to having structure, why they struggle to cope when nobody provides them with classes – they are in the habit of consuming structures, classes and content, and not at all in the habit of creating them.

But is it really the right answer to just make it easy and decide on a curriculum for them? Are these students, who have essentially forgotten how to manage their own time, best off if their time is managed for them, to a degree? It’s pretty clear to me that the answer is no. If we do this, where will it end? When people turn 18 or 19 – depending on where they live – they are considered adults and soon stop going to school. Suddenly, they are confronted with a lot of choices. Even for students used to academic freedom, the variety variety of choices faced by a new high-school graduate can be very difficult to deal with.

In Israel, where mandatory military service usually postpones this confrontation until the age of 20 or 21, it is stereotypically common for a young adult to go spend a few months – or a couple of years – somewhere in southern Asia, “clearing their head” (usually with the help of intoxicants) and figuring things out. In Germany, where this is less of a present issue, I know several people who, after completing high-school (or Germany’s civilian service, or the shorter military service), chose their university major almost at random because they had no clue what they wanted to study. It seems a kind of folk stereotype here, echoed by many in my environment in university, that many become teachers because all they ever knew is school and they rather go back there as teachers than try something new. The common thread is young people who find themselves suddenly faced with more choice than they know what to do with it. This looks to me like a natural consequence of a system that does not give young people an opportunity to confront the real variety of choices typical to “real life”, putting people on railroad tracks with a promise of eventual success and teaching them that they need these rails in order to find their way. Of course there are also high-school graduates everywhere who know exactly what they want to do – but in many places, this is the exception rather than the rule. Yet somehow, amongst fresh Sudbury graduates, it is cluelessness that seems the exception, and motivation the norm. This appears to be affected by the system, not only by the individuals going through it.

I’ll be the first to admit my plans were flawed when I got up and moved to Germany right after my civilian service, but even I certainly had plans and ambitions. I know that so far, each and every one of the other Sudbury Jerusalem graduates has had a clear idea of what they want to do when they graduated. Some of these plans change, for many of them it is still far too soon to tell, but what is clear is that these are people who can deal with a bit of choice. And this when all of the graduates of Sudbury Jerusalem so far (including myself) have been people who had already spent most or all of elementary school (if not middle school) in a conventional school, before arriving at the Sudbury school. We all came in used to a lot of structure, and we all had to deal with not having that any more. We each dealt with it in different ways. At the end, we were all okay with not having extrinsic structure handed to us. For me, this is an ongoing process that I am still not entirely done with (a fact I only understood about a year and a half after graduation.) But I imagine it would have been a great deal harder to deal with if I hadn’t had those four years of Sudbury Jerusalem where I had to create structures in my life rather than only consume them. This is something each of us has to go through and figure out sooner or later. Feeding children artificial structures when they could be working out their own is a tremendous disservice to them and to society.

In the next installment of this series, I will discuss a version of this argument often presented by proponents of traditional schooling who believe imposing extrinsic structure is necessary for a person to succeed.


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Kids don’t “need structure”

6 05 2009

Martin Roberts, a colleague on EUDEC Council, brought up an argument yesterday that you often get when talking about Sudbury schools. “Why not offer classes? Some children need structure.” (These are not exactly his words, but this is the argument in a more general sense.) I replied to Martin directly, but because of how common this line of reasoning is, I would like to discuss it more extensively. In this series of posts (originally a single post that got out of hand) I will explore this issue from a few angles and hopefully provide you with something interesting to read, if nothing more.

First, let us clarify what the “kids need structure” argument actually means – after all, it does not refer to children creating structures to meet their own needs on their own terms. No, what the argument actually says is that children are not all capable of getting everything they need independently and some of them need adults to provide them with an extrinsic academic structure.1

Before I explain why I disagree so strongly with it, I will point out an unpleasant implication of this claim that seems problematic to me: when making this argument, Martin implies – although I am sure this is not his intention – that children are not capable of managing their own lives. Moreover, I am willing to bet that Martin, like most people, would never make this claim about adults. If you, dear reader, happen to be an adult currently in the workforce, can you imagine making this claim about your colleagues? Or your friends? I assume most people will answer with a “no”.2 So without meaning to, Martin is not treating the vague age-group called “children” with the same respect as he would afford to fellow adults. This does not mean the claim is false – in fact, as we will see, I think it is true and disagree nonetheless. But equal respect for people, regardless of age, is not only an essential requirement for democratic education, but a necessary step for society to make as a whole. It makes very little sense to disrespect people because of their age and leads to the ridiculous situation where everyone is disrespected for no good reason sooner or later. But I digress.

Let us turn to the argument itself: “[some] children … need adults to provide them with an extrinsic academic structure”. Before I start to address it I would ask what “need” really means here. Surely it is not used in the same sense as “children need a regular intake of oxygen, water and food” – no child ever died from lack of an academic framework. Rather, what is intended is “need” in the sense that some children are unhappy, or experience hardship, when lacking academic guidance (this is the sense Martin meant this is). It is true that some young people have a very hard time when they aren’t prescribed academic structures by adults, a matter which I will return to in the next post. The final possible intention I can see for this claim, which is not the intention in Martin’s case, is that some children “need” a framework of instruction in order to grow up to be successful adults. This is an important interpretation, because people outside of democratic education very often claim this when defending the practices of traditional education.

In the next post, I will address Martin’s sense of this argument, that it is difficult for some students to deal with a lack of instructional framework. In the posts following that I will examine the last sense of this argument and go in more detail into how this claim ties in with video games (which so many people view as dangerous for children, especially when no structure deprives them of the chance to play them.) I have already written much of this text, so these posts will be more frequent than I have otherwise been posting.

1A similar argument is that children are not capable of controlling their diet in a healthy way and need adults to dictate when, what and how much they eat. When a teacher says “kids need structure” this is usually not what they are referring to.

2The exception is totalitarians, who explicitly believe human beings need to be led by a charismatic male who tells them what to do. I will not bother arguing against that kind of claptrap here.


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After seven years, Sudbury Jerusalem receives government recognition

27 04 2009

Just a short shout of joy before I resume posting for real:

After almost seven years of running without any form of government recognition — or more importantly, government funding — Sudbury Jerusalem has received notice that the school is to be recognized. Wisely enough, they’re holding off the party until the papers arrive, but I wish I was there today.

My mother and I got involved in founding Jerusalem’s first democratic school in late 2001, and in September 2002 the school first started operating — in rented space in a synagogue on the outskirts of the city. The school moved twice in the year that followed, always having to fund its operations in rented spaces, using only tuition taken from parents who, for the most part, could hardly afford it. One of the arguments the government has used when defending their refusal to recognize the school is that it takes tuition, a fact that could have been easily avoided if the school got the money from the government instead.

The school has moved once more in 2007, a year after I left, and has kept growing, so whenever I visit now, both the building and the many of the people are different from what I knew in my time there. But a lot seems very familiar, and when you think about how the school has made it this far alone, without the support that even the tiniest religious boys’ or girls’ schools in Israel receive, it’s pretty impressive.

It has been quite the battle for Sudbury Jerusalem to get here, and I know the school will do great things with its new status, and continue being a great place for people to live and learn.

I will start posting again, posting real posts, although it seems I will continue the Democracy posts at a later date — I have something else in mind right now.


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Peter Gray: Social Play and the Genesis of Democracy

13 03 2009

I’m back sooner than expected and will resume posting about democracy soon. Meanwhile, here’s a link to the latest post over at Peter Gray’s excellent Freedom to Learn blog, in which Peter discusses how free social play lends itself to the development of a sense of democracy in children:

Children cannot acquire democratic values through activities run autocratically by adults. They can and do, however, experience and acquire such values in free play with other children. That is a setting where they are treated as equals, where they must have a say in what goes on, and where they must respect the rights of others if they wish to be included.

Link: Social Play and the Genesis of Democracy

P.S.
The rest of the blog is well-worth reading as well!


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Democracy, Part 2: Structure

26 02 2009

Contrary to popular imagination, democratic schools have a whole lot of structure. Democracy is meaningless without decision-making, and democratic decision-making is impossible without structure. Democracy is in a constant struggle with arbitrariness, the force democracy originally arose to negate1. Codifying the ways decisions are made and the scope of the decisions can be a certain safety against arbitrariness. The creation of procedures and structures in a democracy allows a system to arise which, to a certain degree, runs on its own. Democracy still requires constant vigil in defense both of its structures and of its spirit (the concepts discussed in Part 1 of this series), but procedures allow the democratic community to agree on a certain course of action without the constant need to discuss how things are done – or the danger that arbitrary decisions will be made ad hoc, without clear direction from the community. Indeed, rules and regulations may seem imposing, even frightening, and some find them strange in places where such emphasis is placed on freedom, but still they are as necessary a component of democracy as are the meetings and votes that put these in place.

For a community to make decisions, the individuals that form the community have to know how decisions are made. They must know that certain kinds of decisions can only be made in a democratic meeting. They also have to know that the meeting takes place in a certain time, in a certain place, and in a certain way; if anyone can just throw together a meeting at any time, the meeting quickly loses its legitimacy.

A democracy creates procedures for everything. The more important or common an issue, the more detailed the procedures that cover it. These procedures tend to grow organically over time, growing to cover and fill every loophole and conflict as it comes up. After just four years of operation, for instance, Sudbury Jerusalem had a Lawbook almost 50 pages long, with no less than 8 pages devoted to the Judicial Committee (JC), the body that oversees the execution of School Law (or the consequences of failure to comply with it.)

These regulations serve to protect the individual – the community gives the Judicial Committee a lot of power, with huge potential to disrupt people’s lives and freedoms; the procedures governing JC’s decisions limit it and make it clear what it can and cannot do. The procedures also dictate precisely how decisions are made – they say in what way cases are handled, what steps are taken and in which order, and who must or may be present for every one of them. The tendency is to leave as little as possible up to the JC’s own discretion; JC is merely a servant of the system, individuals doing their duty (in rotation) to apply fair judgment to the cases brought before them.  The meetings are structured – the procedures are set down in School Law, all that’s left to the Committee is to follow the rules, examine the cases, and produce decisions.

This system also supports an atmosphere of pleasant ease; visitors and newcomers are often surprised at how structured JC is, but also at how everyone seems very peaceful about it, even the accused. I found JC very pleasant and used to gladly sit by as an observer and watch cases when I had some free time. My guess is that it makes people comfortable to know that there are rules, that these rules work, and that all they have to do is simply follow them. Of course, in a Sudbury school the same people can also propose, amend or repeal the rules, making it easier to accept them2.

Interestingly, Sudbury Jerusalem’s central decision-maker – School Meeting (SM) – has never been quite as structured as the Judicial Committee. School Meeting is the only institution that existed in the school a priori, and perhaps for this reason, custom has had a far bigger role in SM than in the other institutions SM has created over the years. SM has always been run based on a modified, simplified version of Robert’s Rules of Order, although remarkably the rules have been passed down from one chair to another, rather than codified in rules or bylaws. Robert’s Rule necessitate a chair that runs meetings, makes note of members who want to talk and gives them the floor, as well as maintaining order by giving warnings to members who cause disturbance. So in this sense, it has always been run in a very structured way. But in comparison with the JC’s detailed procedures, SM seems somewhat unorganized. Tellingly, the same Lawbook with 8 pages about JC had just 3 pages devoted to SM.

Still, SM has a certain order in which things are done. For instance, second readings of proposals are handled before first readings, in order to make sure no flood of new proposals could push back the older proposals indefinitely, preventing the Meeting from ever making any final decision. But even such order as is maintained is seen more as tradition, or at least as more mutable, than the parallel order in JC. SM often decides to handle a certain matter out of turn because it is urgent. JC could never get away with rearranging the stages of its investigation.

The differences in the forms the procedures take in these two institutions reflects the different needs that they serve, as well as their different sources of legitimacy. School Meeting is the school community’s tool for democratic decision-making; it embodies the community and allows it to make decisions as a whole. Its legitimacy is direct – everyone who wants to take part is allowed to, the entire community controls it and agrees to accept its decisions because each and every one of them can affect these decisions. So changing the order in which decisions are made, although it sometimes has great effect on matters of importance, is something SM can do as it sees fit; there is no need for extra supervision or control because the decision is open to everyone. At the same time, a certain order is needed during meetings, to give each member a fair chance to speak and be heard; if everyone can speak whenever they want, the loudest will be the only ones heard, if any.

The Judicial Committee, on the other hand, is legitimized indirectly, by decision of School Meeting – it is one step removed from that direct legitimacy enjoyed by the authorized assembly where all can take part. The Committee has few members and one cannot simply come in and take part in the discussion. There are good reasons for this – the Committee is supposed to be efficient and fair – but it means that JC may sometimes be seen as a closed group. SM gives this group authority, but not unconditionally; there is a clear limit to what the Committee may decide, and clear procedures for exactly how it may be decided. In a sense, this is an assurance to the school community that SM is still in control, because its decisions about School Law determine the course that JC may take. In a way, this is the same in all school institutions and offices apart from School Meeting.

I hope this brief discussion provides some insight into the interaction between democracy and structure. In the coming three weeks I will be away, working, and when I return I will doubtless be swamped. But sooner or later, I will continue writing these posts about democracy.

1The Greek and Roman democracies of classic antiquity were instated after kings and tyrants were done away with, and designed to make the arbitrary authority of a king impossible. The authority previously held by the king was divided amongst multiple magistrates, serving in rotation, making it impossible for any single individual to hold too much power for too long. The younger Roman system evolved and was manipulated over time to create a tyrannical empire; the Greek system largely survived until the Roman empire conquered the Greek city-states.

2It is easy to accept rules that you proposed, but people tend to also respect rules they don’t entirely agree with. One reason is that after participating in School Meeting for a while, you get used to experiencing rules from both sides – as proponent and as opponent; you grow to accept the fact that School Meeting can make decisions you disagree with, and the feeling that you are part of School Meeting helps as well. Another reason is simply that the school community respects the rules by consensus, and operates the Judicial Committee to enforce them – those who fail to comply must face the consequences. It also helps that most rules are grounded in common sense.


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