Our Program is More Structured Than You Might Think

When I talk to people about High Meadows and our progressive model of teaching, I am typically met with one of three responses: 

1. “Yes! I love and get progressive education! John Dewey, Maria Montessori and Alfie Kohn are my heroes!”
2. “Hmm, interesting. Sounds different than the way I learned in school. Tell me more.”
3. “Sounds like an unstructured, disorganized mess to me. I am picturing dancing hippies and kids running wild.”

OK, so those aren’t actual quotes, but that’s the spirit of what people say—or what I see in their eyes. Of course, I especially enjoy responding to #2. But the third one is almost as fun to address, because I get to disabuse people of such nutty notions.

Too many folks believe that “structure” is synonymous with “academic rigor,” since it implies order, predictability and compliance. In traditional schooling, those are virtues because they are what most of us experienced ourselves—and look how successful we are now! I’m being a bit cheeky, I know, but such a perspective is baffling to me. Times are changing. The world is asking for more of our kids than ever before. And if we do not attend to re-shaping the structure they experience in school, they will not be as well prepared to face the future’s uncertainty.

A High Meadows education is not unstructured in the least--it is differently structured. What looks like chaos and disorder to the untrained eye is often an exercise in collaboration and choice. Our teachers make specific, research-based plans that are aimed at giving kids exciting, meaningful experiences that often require movement and productive chatter. But there are always clear goals to each of their activities, whether they are about developing strong negotiation skills or learning to build consensus. Such skills are always at the top of the list of what employers are looking for in the next generation of employees; never will you see “sitting down,” “being quiet,” or “completing worksheets” on any job description.

I like to describe High Meadows as a school that does a superb job at balancing what psychologist Rob Evans calls the “three elements of a successful learning environment:” nurture, structure and latitude. Seeking a balance is what the best schools do; too much of any one element could be detrimental to a child's development. We know that High Meadows is exquisitely strong in the nurture category. We also do well with offering kids lots of latitude, both in the classroom and on the meadows. But we also do a great job offering that latitude within a clear structure. Systems like Positive Discipline, the IB PYP program, debate and band are all terrific examples of how well we balance nurture, structure and latitude.

So the next time you hear someone accuse High Meadows—or any progressive school—as being a free-for-all, have them talk to any one of our teachers or observe any one of our classes. I think they’ll get the picture pretty clearly.

An Elegy for Neil Gibson

This post is based on a letter I wrote last week about Neil Gibson's passing.

Last week, longtime High Meadows maintenance staff member Neil Gibson succumbed to the cancer that had taken hold of him over the last few months.

To say that Neil was an important part of the High Meadows community would be an understatement. For 19 years, Neil was a beloved institution at High Meadows. He was much more than a dedicated employee. He was a loving, creative presence who shared his gifts of poetry, photography, art and philosophy with everyone who knew him. Neil had a significant hand in building revered structures around our campus, including the woodworking castle off the lower meadow and the maintenance shed next to the caboose. His beautiful photos of High Meadows, all pine-framed lovingly and hand-colored meticulously, grace the walls of our campus. Many treasured trees were planted by Neil, none more beautiful than the loquat in Memaw's Garden, which bore fruit that Neil would turn into lovely preserves that he would give away to all who appreciated a good jam. Speaking of jam, Neil loved music. He never missed the opportunity to join his colleagues and friends in a good session of guitars, banjos and soulful vocals.

It's a cliché, I know, but Neil really did love life. And life loved him back, gracing him with two beautiful children, Luna and Jake, and his longtime friend and partner, Kelly, all of whom had been faithfully at his side as he came to terms with his illness and began to say good-bye to this life. Neil was a man blessed with great love.

Three weeks ago, more than fifty of us who knew Neil (including several folks from High Meadows' past) threw him a gratitude celebration next to the loquat tree. Though Neil was unable to join us physically, the magic of technology enabled us to "Skype" him in so he was able to experience the many fond stories and remembrances his friends shared about him. It was an extraordinary way for us to say thank you to Neil, and he was deeply touched by the tributes.

There is so much more to say about Neil, but I would like to yield to his own words which he wrote several years ago in a collection of his poetry called Inwood Eyes.

Oh, to be at sea again

To feel the surge of the great ocean.

Carry me off to far away lands;

I will respect you always.

Let me be like the sea

To be fluid and strong.

Let the salt bathe my body;

Let me be free.

Oh, to be at sea again,

Dealing with the elements,

And knowing God.

I can hear you calling me.

Neil MacDonald Gibson II, 1952-2014

Mr. Hendry Makes His Way Home

Elementary Teacher Ben Hendry emailed me last Wednesday morning as we were all reeling from the effects of "Snow Jam 2014." He shared with me a letter he had sent to family and friends--I thought it would be a good beginning to all of the stories of peril and heroism we will all share in the coming days.

Dear Friends,

I hope all of you were able to return home quickly and safely yesterday. I actually feel lucky that my typical 10 mile, 18 minute commute to Sandy Springs was "only" 7 hours. This includes parking in a neighborhood off Spalding Dr/Chamblee-Dunwoody Rd around 7pm, walking about one mile to my mom's house off Peachtree-Dunwoody to visit, eat, get warm, and borrow better mittens, walking a mile to the MARTA North Springs station, riding south one stop, and walking the final 1.7 miles home to arrive at 9:20. I imagine some readers are wondering if that description is setting up a word problem, such as "How far did Mr. Hendry walk?", or "What time did he leave school?" but I leave that up to you.

My trip included helping push a car up a hill then trading some passing teenagers $20 to help my car up the same hill. $5 would have been plenty for them, but $20 was worth it to me and was my first offer. Overall, I witnessed general cordiality and patience and was relieved that I did not see any really bad behavior. I know of neighbors who harbored stranded students from my local school or collaborated to bring multiple kids home; I believe these kinds of stories are the rule across the area. I've been very concerned about travelers' overnight safety; for example I have a colleague on the Support team who was still not home as of midnight. So I truly wish that all of you were spared the shocks of what I consider a disaster; this will echo for years.

Good luck,

Ben

Right or Wrong? A Kindergartner Reminds Me That There Are No Easy Answers

I goofed the other day at our K-8 community gathering. And I didn't even realize it until a teacher pointed it out to me. I'm sure glad she did, because then I had the chance to set things right.

I was launching into a short speech about Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. and why we celebrate his birthday. I began by asking the students where Dr. King was from. Several kids raised their hands immediately, and I chose an especially enthusiastic-looking kindergartner. "Africa!" she shouted confidently. Since that was not the answer I was looking for, I paused, some students began to titter, I got a little flustered, and I replied sheepishly, "Well, that's a good guess, but not exactly..." I quickly pointed to an older kid who said "Atlanta," the answer I was expecting. We moved on.

It wasn't until after the gathering that Mrs. Chalek came to the office to tell of a little girl who had felt terribly embarrassed by essentially being told by the head of school in front of hundreds of other children that she was "wrong." But hadn't she given the wrong answer after all? Upon fast reflection, I followed her logic. It is true, Dr. King's ancestors were from Africa. So, in a sense, Dr. King was from Africa along with being from the United States and Atlanta. My kindergarten friend did not give the wrong answer after all. Quite the contrary, she was actually demonstrating a level of thinking that I had not considered.

There are certainly questions that have right and wrong answers. But there are a great many questions that have multiple answers. Those are the kinds of questions we ask here at High Meadows, and we encourage our students to explore the answers that are possible--whether the question is "Where is Dr. King from?" or "How can we build a world that values human rights?"

After I admonished myself for my poor on-the-spot reaction ("A good guess?" "Not exactly??" What kind of an educator am I???), I went to Mrs. Chalek's room to seek forgiveness. I explained to the class what I had done, admitted that I felt badly about it, and I asked my kindergarten friend "Will you please forgive me?" "Yes," she replied with dignity. And then she hugged me. And my day was made, no question about it.

PS-8 vs. PS-12, Part Two

So many wonderful things happen to children between the ages of 3 and 14. They learn to make friends. They learn to read. They learn to question appropriately. They learn to analyze, criticize, and create. They learn what it means to be both a good leader and a good follower. And, most importantly, they learn to love learning and to joyously embrace the ephemeral stage of life called childhood.

Preschool through eighth grade schools are expert at fostering these experiences with deep sensitivity and care--High Meadows especially so. And there are many compelling reasons and significant research that support High Meadows' PS-8 model. Here are a few:

• High schools compete for human and financial resources with the lower grades, and the lower grades are the ones who lose out. Being a PS-8 school ensures that the early, elementary and middle grades receive the resources they deserve.
• As High Meadows is a small school with no plans to grow beyond 420 students, our students are known and loved by teachers of all grade levels and subject areas. They are truly raised by a village.
• High Meadows students learn leadership from a young age. Our middle years students take leadership roles around the campus, from participating in student government to serving the community through our HELP organization. These experiences result in students gaining greater self-confidence and a sense of belonging to a close-knit community.
• Without a high school on the same campus, our students are under less pressure to act older than their age. A high school culture dominates in a PS-12 setting, and that culture brings with it social and academic pressures that we do not want younger children to encounter. In other words, our PS-8 configuration helps us keep our children from growing up too fast. 
• Our alumni tell us that the transition from High Meadows to high school is one for which they are extremely well prepared. And receiving high schools love High Meadows students; they know our graduates are intrinsically motivated people who take the reins of their own learning.
• Alumni also tell us that they were ready at the end of eighth grade to make the transition to a new school. The early teen years are the ideal time to leave the elementary school nest--there are new friends to be made, new challenges to face. Scary as it can be (and as heartbreaking it is to leave High Meadows), alums are invariably glad they moved on to a new school after eighth grade.
• Studies conducted by the Rand Corporation, the National Middle School Association and American College Testing (ACT) conclude that a PS-8 model enhances academic, social and emotional development more than any other configuration. The ACT study further supports that an outstanding eighth grade experience is a better predictor of future success than any high school experience.

A High Meadows student enjoys a rich academic and social journey. Our teachers care about--and respond expertly to--where each child is developmentally. As an Atlanta-area high school placement consultant told me recently, "High Meadows' PS-8 configuration is not a hindrance, it is a gift." I couldn't agree more.

With much thanks to the inspiration provided by the Elementary School Heads Association and the following schools: Blessed Sacrament Catholic School, Country School, Duke School, Green Hedges School, Seattle Country Day School and Sheridan School.