Celebrating failure!

In this very personal guest post, Ariel Dochstader Miller argues for embracing failure as a positive and necessary experience in school and beyond. Ariel is cofounder and chief motivator at Austin’s Bronze Doors Academy.

My birthday was a few days ago, and my husband fulfilled my lifelong dream of having a party for me at Peter Pan Mini Golf. One of the partygoers was my eight-year-old birth daughter, whom I carried for my dear friend, who is infertile.

At one point during the party, her mom told me that she was very upset and crying because she was not doing well at mini golf. I went to her and discussed how she was feeling. This child was crying and wanted to leave because she was not performing up to her expectations.

One of my concerns for this child of my heart is that she is becoming a perfectionist because she is attending a school where the factors that determine success are all external. She is living in a world that values a memorize-for-the-test-then-forget mentality versus learning how to fail fabulously and celebrate learning because it is fun. The other young party attendees were students who attend the progressive school I own. None of them were keeping score, and I could tell the amount of fun they were having by the peals of laughter issuing forth from the golf course.

Bronze Doors Academy kids celebrate the prospect of failure at the mini golf course on this special occasion—and at school every day.

One of the things I fear most for public school youth (and those at many traditional private schools as well) is that too often they are taught that failure is the worst thing that can happen. I could not disagree more. I believe failure should be celebrated. Milton Hershey started seven businesses that failed before he found his recipe for success in his hometown of what is now called Hershey, Pennsylvania. Walt Disney went to more than three hundred banks before he found one that would fund his dream of Disney Studios. How many people would have stopped at one or two failed attempts?

The determining factor for today’s students’ future will not be how many degrees they have, their test scores, or grades but rather their entrepreneurial skills and ability to think critically. Microsoft specifically says it hires people who fail often because that means they are innovators who are not afraid to push the boundaries of whatever they are working on.

Both of my parents died young, and thus I am a huge joy advocate. None of us knows how much time we have, so why waste it not experiencing joy because we are not performing to some external measure? At Bronze Doors Academy, the adults model the attitude that failing can be spectacularly fun and is actually quite important, because it means you are stretching yourself and trying something new and different. We also model that perseverance is much more desirable than striving for perfection. In my study of business and owners of successful companies, I have found that their unwillingness to give up was much more important to their success than their grades. A study I read a few years back found that most successful business owners were C students.

Solving the problems we are facing as a society will require serious out-of-the-box thinking. Why not enjoy ourselves while pushing the boundaries of what we know is possible, even if it means the ball never goes in the hole?

Ariel Dochstader Miller

A garden, a dream, and the sun

Carly Borders, director and guide at The Soleil School, joins the Alt Ed Austin conversation with this guest post about her journey as a parent, professional educator, and entrepreneur toward a new model of education called the Whole Learning Framework.

Imagine planting a large and diverse garden. You’ve planted all types of flowers, vegetables, fruits, and herbs—all at the same time. Suppose you cultivated them all in the same way, ignoring each plant’s unique requirements? Every day, you water all of the seeds the same amount. You give them all the same amount of fertilizer. A few of the plants are sprouting and appear to be doing fairly well. But you notice that the rest are weak and brittle, if they’re growing at all. Yet you continue to do things the same way, all the while wondering why all of the plants aren’t thriving.

But what if you had more flexibility? What if you got to know each flower and each peapod more intimately? You’ve taken great care to understand the different plants and the care it takes to bring each one up healthy to flower in its own way. And so you plant them according to their unique needs—at the right times, with the right amount of sunlight and the right kind of food. After a time, they’re all sprouting. They’re being given what they need, because they’re being treated with the respect they need. And look at the colors that begin to emerge! From the pinks of the roses to the yellows of the squash flowers: it’s beautiful. Throughout the seasons you take great care with each flower and each fruit. And the reward is greater than you could have imagined.

I hope you see where I’m going with my little education allegory. As my own child was quickly approaching school age, I knew I had to listen to my instincts. I knew I wanted him to be somewhere he could thrive. We knew the public schools weren’t right for our family. And given my background as an educator, not to mention the way I feel about alternative education, I knew I had something to contribute.

I have been trained in the Montessori method, which is rooted in values like independence, internal motivation, and hands-on experiences. Maybe I could have taken a job at a nice Montessori school. Happily, though, a friend introduced me to Ariel Miller, who had recently started a middle and high school program called Bronze Doors Academy. She met with me and expressed her desire for someone to begin a new program in the same building for younger students. The idea was daunting, but I felt this was an opportunity I couldn’t pass up. Could I be an educational entrepreneur?

I could easily have said no to this question. I had to ask myself what was holding me back. Was it that I didn’t feel qualified? Or was it simply a fear of failure? I decided to channel what I had learned about other successful people and take a chance. Success doesn’t come to those who are unwilling to take risks. I allowed the idea of the school to germinate in my mind, and I started piecing things together bit by bit. After several weeks, what would become The Soleil School started to take shape.

Now, as we’ve begun our first full school year, I am delighted at what is emerging: Students at The Soleil School are part of a family and school community. They are encouraged first to pursue areas most of interest to them and explore outward from there. So we begin by setting goals. Taking what I learned from my training in the Montessori method, experience in project-based education, and my appreciation for Howard Gardner’s Multiple Intelligences, I have devised a foundational philosophy called the Whole Learning Framework. It is a holistic approach in which students are encouraged to develop through a process of continuous discovery. By allowing them to work toward personal goals—which are set with guidance by both parents and the guide (me)—the students are intrinsically motivated. Contrast this with a quizzes-and-pellets method in which students are rewarded for conformity and regurgitation.

In keeping with the “soleil” (sun, in French) theme, we’ve created ten learning areas in the classroom, which we call “satellites.” These subject areas revolve around the children (not the other way around). The satellites are not exhaustive, but they’re designed to let kids visualize, categorize, and contextualize different paths to learning discovery that are open to them.

We began this year by talking about the idea that the students are on a “quest.” I asked them to think about the question: What is your quest? Our first project was to create a “quest comic.” Each student was to come up with a main character who has strengths and weaknesses. Of course, the main character sets out on some sort of quest, where her strengths are to be employed and weaknesses overcome—all to reach a goal and overcome obstacles along the way. In this way, the students are able to use their creativity to delve deeper into the metaphor of the quest.

This idea will permeate what we do, whether it be academic, social, or spiritual. Ultimately, I believe in what is happening at The Soleil School. This is my quest, after all. We are different from a Montessori classroom in that we embrace technology, imagination, and collaboration. But the inspiration from Maria Montessori is certainly present in the philosophical underpinnings, in that my role is not so much a teacher but a guide. I follow the students, observing and encouraging each. I believe in them and I stress self-reliance even as I guide them. Their goals should be challenging, but realistic. Unlike most traditional forms of education, The Whole Learning Framework provides tools for creating a highly individualized curriculum based on the passions and needs of each child. We are here—and we’ll continue to be here—because we believe every child is unique, beautiful, and ready to thrive.

Carly Borders

A school of one’s own

Bruce atop the swing set at Alpine Valley School in Colorado last MayBruce L. Smith has worked in education for more than twenty years and with Sudbury schools since 1997. He recently moved to Austin, where he writes about education, creativity, and mindfulness, serves on the staff of the Clearview Sudbury School, and steers a nonprofit organization that he cofounded, the Center for the Advancement of Sudbury Education (CASE). Bruce kindly adapted this guest post for Alt•Ed Austin from a recent piece on his own blog, Write Learning.

For the past fifteen years, I’ve been promoting a model of alternative education that’s about as individualized and child-centered as they come. In a nutshell, places like Austin’s Clearview Sudbury School feature self-directed learning in mixed-age, democratic communities.

Yet “child-centered” isn’t good enough for some. As long as there have been schools, people have been using them to impose various adult agendas on students—often noble or well-intentioned, but still external, still imposed. For example, educators regularly hear things like, “Yes, what you’re doing is wonderful, but how are your students making the world a better place?” The best response to this that I’ve ever seen comes from the late author, educator, and civil rights leader Howard Thurman:

Don’t ask yourself what the world needs. Ask what makes you come alive and then go do that. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive.

Sometimes I describe the Sudbury model as “agenda-free learning.” This approach not only steers clear of such conventional elements as compulsory academics, rigid schedules, and adult control; we also refrain from nudging students in any particular direction, however progressive or worthy. And this leads to some very lovely results indeed. In Thurman’s words, students at schools like Clearview “come alive” in myriad ways. Empowered and trusted to decide for themselves what’s worth their time and effort, these young people shine. Their passions emerge and their talents thrive even as they tackle their weaknesses. Life for these students is a matter of authentic work and rewarding play.

In other words, Clearview Sudbury gives young people a school of their own, a place where they learn from everyday life in a community of equals. Clearview students direct the course of their days and help manage the school’s business, from drafting and enforcing rules to making budgetary and personnel decisions. Through open-ended play, exploration, conversation, and meetings, our students learn how to find their way in the world; how to obtain the help they need; how to realize their goals while respecting the rights of others; and how to coexist with people of various opinions and personalities. To the extent that Sudbury schools have an agenda, I’d say it’s one of self-actualization within community, balancing freedom and responsibility.

It could be argued that one doesn’t need a school to learn such things—or even that school interferes with this sort of learning, placing an unnecessary layer between the student and the outside world. While I respect this view, in my years with Sudbury schools I’ve found that there is one thing they offer students that they’re unlikely to find elsewhere: a place to freely practice authentic, responsible, effective living.

How common is it for children and young adults to learn in settings where they’re treated as equals—where they are, in a real sense, peers with people of all ages? How often do we allow young people to make substantive, meaningful decisions and then live with the consequences? How free are they elsewhere to experiment with different ways of being in the world, practicing the independence they’ll know as adults while growing up in a safe, respectful community?
 
After even a short time, Sudbury students begin exhibiting superlative self-awareness, integrity, and interpersonal aptitude. Given freedom—and expected to handle it responsibly—hundreds of students at dozens of schools have become more playful and mature, more articulate and thoughtful, more enthusiastic and determined. Schools like Clearview Sudbury show what we get when we set our expectations this high: strong, lively individuals and capable community members in love with life.

Once I was asked by a graduate’s parent what I thought she’d gained from going to the school where we’d known each other. After a moment I replied, “a head start on her adult life.” She knew more about herself and how to pursue her dreams at age eighteen than many do well into their twenties or thirties. She had much less to unlearn and overcome than people whose education was directed by others.

In the end, agenda-free learning is far more empowering than any external curriculum. All the qualities that foster success in the twenty-first century—things like initiative, persistence, adaptability, resourcefulness, and responsibility—are nurtured to an amazing degree at Clearview Sudbury School, where students have a place of their own to come into their own. And as Thurman says, this is what the world needs.

Bruce L. Smith

Observation of and with children

Molly Manewal has worked with kids in many diverse settings, most recently in her own small schoolhouse for young children. She is currently beginning a sabbatical during which she’ll be living in Southeast Asia, mostly learning by observing—a not-so-simple act she understands deeply and writes about here.

I am incredibly lucky; I work with preschoolers. I get to sing songs, assist small seamstresses and carpenters, and act as an impartial (usually) intermediary for players in a hostile takeover or lovers’ spat. But, arguably, the best part of my work is simply watching kids. There is very little that goes on with their life at school of which I need to be an active part, so I get to watch them be their beautiful and fascinating selves.

For the most part, they are self-contained learners capable of far more than most people assume. What a joy it is to see a child come up against an obstacle, struggle with it, and emerge victorious. (Please see Kami Wilt's insightful guest post on frustration.) Although I help them in countless ways, nothing I do can give them that sense of accomplishment. I have knowledge and skills they don't yet have, and I can share these with them, but genuine and lasting learning results from their own impulses, their own work. To be truly helpful, I must remain loving and neutral, and observe what is happening with each child.

My training is primarily in the Montessori Method. Early in the twentieth century, Maria Montessori proposed a pedagogical system in which the innate drive toward self-construction was trusted and respected. This led to an indirect teaching style centered on observation. She saw the role of the guide (teacher) as that of witness and facilitator. In order to understand how we can support learners, we must first find out where they are. Observation is the starting point.

There is only one basis for observation: the children must be free to express themselves and thus reveal those needs and attitudes which would otherwise remain hidden or repressed in an environment that did not permit them to act spontaneously.

—Maria Montessori,
Discovery of the Child

I don't just love watching kids; I love watching other things too. I find value in stepping back and simply observing. Not only do I learn a great deal; I also feel grounded in my environment and appreciate my surroundings. I foster this practice in the children I get to interact with by availing them of the tools with which to observe.

We cannot create observers by saying, “observe,” but by giving them the power and the means for this observation, and these means are procured through education of the senses.

—Maria Montessori,
The Montessori Method

One of the most reliable ways to practice ob­ser­va­tion is to spend time in the natural world. I happen to love watching insects and find their lives mys­te­ri­ous and interesting. Most kids do also, so we watch a lot of bugs together. I emphasize just watching to see what the critters are going to do. It builds patience, trains focus, and yields rich rewards, such as discovering where the spider’s web comes from or which plants the swallowtails like the best. (This comes in handy when searching for baby caterpillars.)

When we are observing, we don't have an agenda, and when we don't have an agenda, we are open and receptive to learning. Just watching can help us simply to be with what is going on and truly see it. It also can give us a moment to ask our­selves, “Do I need to involve myself in this? Is this really any of my business?” Observation often keeps us from jumping to conclusions. It not only informs us about our world but also aids us in developing a practice of nonjudgment. We all value the skill of discernment because it helps us to make decisions, but I'm guessing most of us at some point wish we could be less judgmental.

If one of our goals as parents and educators is to foster in­de­pen­dence, we have to refrain from “helping” too much, an impulse that is sometimes difficult, or, for parents, perhaps well-nigh impossible, to control. But when we commit our­selves to observe more, to be still, then children have the chance to grapple with life. This is where true learning happens, through direct experience. So we support the children by show­ing that we honor the un­folding of who they are. We give them an encouraging smile or a sincere “You can do it”—all the while trust­ing that they will gain from their experience and will be okay.

Imagine if we tried to assist a butterfly in emerging from its chrysalis. We know (from squatting down quietly, watching it happen) that it would be a de­structive inter­ference to in­volve our­selves in that delicate yet com­pletely per­fect pro­cess. So, while child­ren need a safe, rich, and sup­port­ive en­vi­ron­ment, their un­fold­ing is something to be­hold, celebrate, and, for the most part, stay out of.

Molly Manewal

Learning to document children’s learning (Part 3)

This is the conclusion of Marie Catrett’s three-part guest post on the methods and results of daily documentation at Tigerlily Preschool. If you haven’t already, be sure to read Part 1 and Part 2 first. And feel free to share your own thoughts or questions for Marie by clicking on “Post a Comment” below.

4/26
We return for a second visit to the train station. This time Elias is on his feet, exploring everywhere, bursting with excitement.

Elias: (At the station, before its arrival) Waiting for the train to come! Waiting for the train to blow its horn! It’s the train, it’s the train! Talked to the conductor!

I tell the children that I will take pictures of anything they think is interesting. I notice that on our second visit we’re paying more attention to other vechicles and people.

Wyatt: A man driving a truck and a part of the train.
Willa: A train and a honking thing.
Emerson: See a guy driving it.
Waytt: In the back there’s a black part.
Willa: Yeah, that’s where they would sit.
Emerson: For bags!
Willa: Or anybody could sit in the back.

Willa and her mom visit with some passengers from the train.

Nayeli visits with the station master.

4/27
Reflecting more about our second trip to the train station, we listen to the recording I made of the train’s arrival.

Listening to the sound of the train arriving at the station.

Wyatt: He said “tickets”!
Elias: Ding ding ding! It’s the train sound! It’s the train! (Running)
Emerson: (Whistle sounds) A train!

Wyatt asks me to play the clip again and again.

5/5
Elias notices a stack of laundry baskets near us on the blue rug. Yesterday Wyatt and then Emerson discovered that they could climb into the red basket that usually holds paper for painting. Paired up with my black laundry basket, climbing in and out became a popular thing to do yesterday. It was pretty hard to wait to climb inside; whichever kid was in the basket wanted to have a really long turn. Wyatt told me that he wished we could have more laundry baskets at school, and would I write that down?

I keep what the children call my “Little Notebook” on me at all times, tucked handily into an apron pocket for writing down their words. If I leave my Little Notebook lying around, a kid is sure to notice and come running to me, full of urgency and great care. Here, Marie, you forgot your Little Notebook! Willa led the way in wanting her very own Little Notebook, and now anybody who wants a Little Notebook gets one. I hear a lot of “hmmm, maybe I need to write that down.”

Willa makes notes about a friend’s construction.

Now Elias notices and unstacks these new baskets, climbing inside one.

A “play explosion” then takes place—laughing, hooting, rocking, crawling . . .
After a while I sit again next to Elias on the sofa. He joined in at the beginning for a bit and then decided to watch. We are both transfixed by all the stories that are forming and bouncing off each other in the center of the room. Often four children are involved, sometimes pairing up two and two, then rejoining again as a group. Nayeli, Wyatt, and Willa all seem to take turns leading the play. Emerson is very eager and willing to support the next piece of the narrative, joining in with so much joy.

This play keeps shifting again and again, ending up with “going to the train station.” Nayeli is the driver. They go and go, then all jump out, then jump back in to “drive some more to the station.”

5/14
Elias makes up a new song, “The Wheels on the Passenger Train,” which I play on the guitar and we sing together. We add “The Wheels on the Passenger Train” to our song list.

5/16
Wyatt starts laundry basket play again and announces that he’s playing train station. I tell him: Come tell me if you’d like to hear the train sounds when you play. Wyatt is excited about this idea and asks to hear the audio clip.

Elias: I have to go catch . . . I have to go!
Wyatt: Quickly! Elias: Ding, ding! (Train horn honks) Ding ding!
Emerson: Again again! We start the recording again.
Elias: Train, train . . . I have to go catch the train! (Train horn) The train!!!
Willa: (Climbing into a basket) I’m a conductor.

5/21
Basket play is happening nearly every day, directed entirely by the children. I watch Elias choose to get right in the middle of this joyous, active play and I am delighted to see the connections that train play has created in our classroom. This is my goal for all the kids: our school is a special place that honors and celebrates who you are. And what shall we play today?

We look forward to our third visit to the train station, returning later this month.

© Marie Catrett

Learning to document children’s learning (Part 2)

Marie Catrett’s story continues, documenting the conversations, activities, and discoveries of Elias and his friends at Tigerlily Preschool as they explore the world of trains. (If you missed Part 1, you can read it here.)

3/22
Marie: We are on a trip today to visit the train station. Could we take a look at your suitcase?
Woman at the station: Sure.
Nayeli: Does yours have a bar that goes up? For pulling?
Woman at the station: Yes.
Marie: Do you think we could see?
Woman at the station: Okay. (She raises up her handle.)
Nayeli: Like mine!

 

[Click the play button below to listen to the sounds of the train station!]

Elias (Delighted) It’s the train! The Amtrak train! Look at those tracks.
Nayeli: I see the actual train.
Elias: Is it the 107 train?
Marie: You know, it has a number on it right here actually. One-one-four, this is the 114 train.
Nayeli: Headlights! Here are two headlights and another headlight and then two more.
Elias: The train was blowing its horn.
Emerson: ‘Member I saw a locomotive. I said hi to the train!
Marie: Did it make a noise?
Emerson: I was worried. Went chhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.
Marie: A big noise?
Emerson: A- CHOOOOOOOO CHOOOOOOOO! Maked noise! It made a big noise! A- CHOOOOOOOO CHOOOOOOO! It was a passenger train. A Amtrak train (is a) passenger train. Saw locomotives!

Our first visit to the station. Elias is interested but cautious: he wants to be held by mom during our time there.

Nayeli: She has a suitcase and a pillow! She brought a pillow to sleep with!
Emerson: (The passengers) Went inside to go to sleep on the train. Need to wake up. Snoring. They were snoring.
Elias: Going to have dinner! They’re going to have dinner together in the dining car! Ding ding ding ding!

Back at school, train songs have become part of our song list, and we sing them often, at the children’s request.

Elias: Sing “Engine Number Nine”!

Engine, Engine Number Nine
Going down Chicago Line
If the train should jump the track
Do you want your money back?
Yes? No? Maybe so!

3/27
Marie: (Talking to Elias when he selects his Legos) What kind of train will you play today?
Elias: It’s a commuter train. It wants to go to the airport. The train wants to take people to Pei Wei (restaurant).

Elias: The train is coming out of the train station. See, it’s an Amtrak train. Bye bye train! Mmmmmm-mmmmmm (making the sound of the train horn).
Willa: (Running up) I want to come to the train station!
Marie: Oh, maybe you will be an Amtrak train?
Willa: First I need to get far away.
Marie: Maybe we will hear your horn.

4/11
Emerson decides to make a train out of clay.

Emerson: Make a track. Tank car, tank car! Make a freight car. Make the freight on it. Make a track . . .

4/16
Elias, Nayeli, and Wyatt build vehicles together.

Elias: And big ones, and big ones! (Jumping up with excitement) Are those trains ready? They’re going pretty fast!

Stay tuned for Part 3, coming June 23.

© Marie Catrett