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.

PS-8 vs. PS-12, Part One

The following post is the first of at least two parts about the pros and cons of being a PS-8 school versus a PS-12 school. This post focuses first on the question "Why a high school?" My next post will discuss the distinct merits of being PS-8. I would LOVE for you to comment. Please share your perspectives with me and everyone else who reads this blog!

Why doesn't High Meadows have a high school? I've been asked this many times since becoming head of school in 2010.

It's a fair question. Our PS-8 program is so effective; what's keeping us from extending our model into 9-12? It certainly would reduce some of the worry we as parents feel about the scary transition from HMS to high school. And there is no school quite like High Meadows in this region. For students who have thrived at High Meadows, many parents feel they need to travel well inside the perimeter to find a complementary high school program. Assuming there is an adequate market, it is very tempting to create a bold new high school in North Fulton/East Cobb that is steeped in the guiding principles that make High Meadows so unique.

Over the course of our 40-year history, the board of trustees has considered the idea of an HMS high school many times. At the last extensive study in 2000, the task force concluded that our 40-acre campus should focus on the PS-8 experience that has made us so special. If we were to add a high school, it should be on another campus. Of course, that means money--and lots of it. A new campus with even the most austere facilities would cost us tens of millions. And that is before the start-up costs of hiring administrators, teachers, materials, etc. The conclusion of the study was that we should continue placing resources into being the best PS-8 school we could be. If in the future we were able to secure adequate funding, we should revisit the idea seriously.

Thirteen years later, the question still lingers (as questions tend to do until they are answered definitively). So I have done some thinking about it and have engaged others in the conversation. Based on my research about other schools who have successfully grown beyond eighth grade, sustainable, mission-appropriate enrollment is the key issue beyond start up costs. The first several years are tough. The school's devout families may be willing to take the risk of going into an untested program. But not all do, and those who are not yet familiar with the school are hard to convince. For most independent school families at the high school level, the ultimate goal is getting into a good college. Enrolling a high-achieving student in a school without an impressive, long-standing track record is too much of a risk for many to bear.

So let's imagine that an angelic philanthropist were to give us, say, $50 million for the purpose of starting a high school. That should be enough to purchase a multi-acre campus, build adequate facilities, and hire a crop of outstanding teachers and administrators. Let's imagine that enrollment booms right out of the gate, and the prospect of sustaining that trend is outstanding. What else would we need to consider before taking the plunge? Would there be a "resource" drain on the PS-8 program? Would board and administrative attention be trained so heavily on the high school to the detriment of the elementary program? Would funding be redirected from the elementary program to bolster the high school program? Would the culture of the school make a fundamental shift as a result of all of the above? The likely answers to these questions, based on my conversations with heads who have been through it, are yes.

I suppose it sounds as if I am an opponent of adding a high school to High Meadows. Actually, the prospect excites me from many angles. It would be incredibly inspiring to create a high school that does what we do so well at the PS-8 level: inquire deeply, challenge assumptions, favor the experiential over the traditional, engage meaningfully with the environment and the world. No other place in the region--or the nation, for that matter--would be anything like it. If we had the opportunity to create a high school without mortgaging the future of our precious PS-8 program, I would be a loud advocate for us to at least explore the possibilities with visionary and critical eyes.

So let's keep asking the question. And if you know someone with $50 million to spare, please direct them to me ASAP.

Guest Blogger Grace Shickler on Nelson Mandela's Legacy

Below is a letter written to our faculty and staff by Early Years Director Grace Shickler. It’s a powerful personal meditation on Nelson Mandela’s legacy and South Africa’s ongoing struggles.

Dear Friends,

I can’t put into the words the way I felt when I heard the radio announcer gently say that Nelson Mandela had passed away yesterday. I was on my way here to our High Meadows “Evening to Inform” event and yet I was sobbing all my makeup off in the car! My heart broke in two knowing that the South African people truly feel that Mandela is their father and grandfather and the savior of all that is right in the universe they live in. Although Apartheid has ended, the disparity between whites and blacks, the poverty and conditions that thousands still live with and the fighting with governmental policies still exists.

On our family’s trip to South Africa this past summer, Scott, Jaxson, Hayden and I ventured into one of the “districts” to pick up a student we knew. Beauty was a child to whom we were able to offer a scholarship a few years ago for the experience Scott offers every summer (The Ultimate Life Summit). When I met Beauty that year in Orlando, I heard people say that she lived in a place with no electricity. She was somewhat overwhelmed by just the hotel where the conference was--let alone Disney World! Little did I really realize what that really meant.

Driving into Beauty’s district this past June, the first thing I noticed was that something was missing: The electric wires that hang over other districts where people do have a bit of electricity. I then noticed that there was a three-sided concrete shelter for a toilet: One for the whole street to share. The “homes” were created from corrugated tin sheets, cardboard, plywood and other dirt-cheap materials. Around each little abode was a “yard,” many fenced in and guarded by a hungry dog to protect what little each family has. Yet Beauty and her family, living in a space smaller than one of our classrooms, are able to sustain a family where the kids go to school, take their meals together and keep everything clean and tidy. Without washing machines, running water or an indoor cooking apparatus. We brought Beauty’s mom a month’s worth of groceries, yet the shopping trip was similar to my weekly stop at Publix. I think you get the picture.

I am saddened that my own college and young adult years were devoid of connection to Mandela’s struggles and the end of Apartheid. They were news items I did not investigate more deeply. But I am trying to make up for that now. I urge you to absorb and learn about this amazing country and world leader. I hope our older children will have the opportunity to discuss Mandela’s gift to this world, to the people of South Africa and to human rights everywhere. His peaceful suffering (don’t get me started on our tour visit to Robben Island Prison!) will blow you away if you read Mandela’s book Long Walk to Freedom. He somehow managed to survive and become the light of their world. Of the whole world.

It is a very sad time in South Africa. Send your compassion and prayers if you can.

Guest Blogger Meddie Finnegan on Writing in 6/7

I smell like a horse named Sonny. I was teaching a lesson on sensory imagery and was with Matt-the-athlete and quiet Jayne who speaks two languages, petting a horse. Picture an athlete, quiet girl and a teacher, burying our faces into Sonny's mane trying to capture the smell. Dusky? Musty? Sweet? He licked our hands and we touched the soft part of his muzzle.

Sami and I sat in the bunny hutch and held two small bunnies, letting them breathe into our ears as if they were telling us their little bunny secrets. Their tiny bunny hearts beat under our hands. Sami giggled as fur flew up into the fall air, illuminated by the sun.

Tori and I sat in a land-locked canoe listening to crows caw and call and feeling the sun warm our faces, while Lily watched little children try to walk in a straight line. They didn't; they wobbled and weaved bouncing off of each other like bumper cars.

Emma perched in the Chicken Tree, hidden from the world, all but her long legs dangling from the branches. She picked pine needles and listened to the laughter of the preschoolers nearby. Olivia sat in the 4/5 commons, feeling awkward sitting in a space she's just left, barely fitting her long legs under shorter tables.

Eli sat on the tire swing capturing the warmth of rubber from the sun; he noticed the sound of leaves as they spiraled in the wind. Should he turn back to the laptop on the picnic table and get writing? Or should he linger on the swing for just one more moment...

Sixth and 7th graders were wrapped up with the ghosts of childhood past, knowing that the sweet spot of being a child is soon gone, replaced with the freedom and responsibility of adolescence. This makes them melancholy. This makes them loud. This makes them wise. And they wrote about it.

Some kids cried as they wrote. Others just noticed nature. Others just sat with themselves; 15 minutes of being still is good for any soul. Writers write as they live their lives. Only a fraction of what they compose in their heads actually finds its way to print. This was part of the day's lesson.

I wonder if I teach the right way. "Will they be prepared?" I ask myself.  Will horses, canoes, chicken trees and bunnies develop these children into the writers and thinkers we hope to cultivate? This is what I ask myself every single day.

And my answer is always yes. They will. For to write, to write anything, you must know yourself, where you came from and where you are going.

Notice. Think. Breathe. Write.

By Meddie Finnegan, Middle Years English Teacher