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In Defense of Wildness

Chris Mercogliano, Originally posted on ChrisMercogliano.com

This was the name of the book I wrote in 2007 until Beacon Press and I compromised on In Defense of Childhood instead. By “wildness” I meant the inner kind, that luminescent spark which animates us and is the source of our uniqueness and creativity. It’s wild because it dwells deep beneath the surface, out of reach of the conscious mind, and it strives mightily to resist the control of others. Without enough inner wildness, we lack the drive and the resourcefulness to overcome the obstacles in the way of  becoming who we are meant to become.

Beacon Press asked me to change the title because they were concerned that referring to this wild inner energy on the cover of a book about children might scare readers away and dampen sales. Thus the book begins with the simple statement, “Childhood is in trouble,” when what I really wanted to say was  inner wildness is endangered because childhood no longer supports the kinds of experience that nourish and sustain it. My central thesis: childhood has become so thoroughly domesticated that virtually every dimension of a child’s daily reality is now fenced in by some outside agent.

Thankfully there has been a certain cause for optimism since I wrote In Defense of Childhood. A number of more recent books have come out, such as Lenore Skenazy’s Free Range Kids, that are aimed at reversing the hyper-management of children’s lives. Skenazy also hosts the popular reality show “World’s Worst Mom,” which is the moniker she earned after making headlines by allowing her nine-year-old son to ride the subway home by himself in New York City. (She will be one of the keynoters at the Alternative Education Resource Organization conference this summer.)

There has also been a groundswell of efforts to save the free forms of play that are among inner wildness’s greatest allies from extinction, which brings us to the subject of today’s post—an article in last month’s edition of The Atlantic magazine entitled “The Overprotected Kid.” The article begins with a group of people in England calling themselves “playworkers” who are trying to resuscitate play by maintaining outdoor play spaces that haven’t been scrubbed clean of risk like most modern-day playgrounds with their rounded-corner equipment with rubberized mats underneath.

In fact, in one such “adventure playground” occupying nearly an acre at the far end of a housing development in North Wales, there is no play equipment at all. Instead there is a rope swing over the creek that borders one edge and a big pile of used tires and dozens of wooden pallets at the center that can be used to build forts and clubhouses. A stack of old  mattresses serves as a perfectly serviceable trampoline. There is even a metal fire pit for kids to start fires in, and a bunch of trash-picked chairs and couches to sit in while they hang out together and stare at the flames.

C. T. Sorensen and Lady Marjory Allen

The Atlantic article is worth a glance just for the photos. Adventure playgrounds look more like  junkyards than anything else, which was precisely the intent of the Danish landscape architect, C. T. Sorensen, who designed the first “junk playgrounds,” as he preferred to call them, in German-occupied Copenhagen in 1943. Sorensen had been designing conventional playgrounds for over a decade and it hadn’t escaped his notice that most kids preferred playing in rough and tumble places like construction sites where they could alternately build things and then tear them apart.

Right after WWII, the English landscape architect Lady Marjory Allen was inspired by Sorensen to establish a series of junk playgrounds in rubble-strewn London neighborhoods destroyed during the Blitz. It was Allen who renamed them adventure playgrounds. Familiar with the work of A.S. Neill, she believed that engaging in undomesticated forms of play could help children recover from the psychological trauma of the war. She also saw her version of playground as a demonstration of a “democratic community of children working beyond the divisions promoted in fascism of class, nation, and race.”

Allen also once said, “Better a broken leg than a broken spirit—a leg can always mend and a spirit may not,” and so it is to people like her and Sorensen that we owe the survival of the idea that the kind of play that feeds inner wildness is unmanaged and involves a certain element of risk.

Overprotected Indeed

It should be noted that adults are rarely seen on adventure playgrounds, other than the paid playworkers who are there mainly to keep track of the tools and maintain the space. Other than keeping half an eye on the kids to make sure they don’t do anything too dangerous, the playworkers generally leave them to their own devices.

Today there are over 1000 adventure playgrounds around the world; but, not surprisingly, only two in the U.S., where as the Atlantic writer rightly points out, “Failure to supervise has become, in fact, synonymous with failure to parent.” The article then takes an interesting turn as it explores the depth of the American obsession with child safety. In the early 1970s, the British-born graduate student Roger Hart spent two years mapping children’s movements in a rural New England town for a dissertation project he called “a geography of children.” Hart found that the kids spent huge chunks of time orchestrating their own adventures, with their range including the entire town as well as the surrounding countryside once they were old enough to ride a bike.

Then in 2004, Hart returned to the same town to reconnect with the now-grown-up kids he had followed who still lived nearby, in order to find out how they were raising their children. The first difference he encountered was that the parents wouldn’t let him talk to their kids alone, which had been his original modus operandi. It wasn’t that the parents were suspicious of him, Hart concluded, just that they’d gotten so used to always being close to their children. One mom who had been particularly adventurous as a young girl told him that she and her husband didn’t like their kids going off by themselves because the area is “so diverse now, with people coming in and out and lots of transients.”
But when Hart checked with the local police, he was told that that there actually aren’t all that many transients, and that over the years crime has remained steadily low. “There’s a fear among the parents,” Hart told the journalist from The Atlantic, “an exaggeration of the dangers and a loss of trust that isn’t totally explainable.”

Hart’s saddest discovery of all: the new generation didn’t seem to want to venture all that far from home.

There’s Good News Too

Thankfully, Hart’s findings aren’t universal. There is Lenore Skenazy’s boy still riding the subway by himself, and here in inner-city Albany, NY, Albany Free School kids who live near the school spend their outside-of-school hours roaming the neighborhood like a pack of wolf cubs. They turn the block into their own adventure playground. One day they’re marauders wielding swords and bows and arrows—the girls as well as the boys—and another they’re building another clubhouse in a double vacant lot they call “Wilbur Woods.” No one really watches them, or maybe all of us adults who are around do, each just the slightest bit. Either way the kids are extremely busy inventing and reinventing a world that is entirely of their own creation.

Then there are my next door neighbors—Mara worked at the school for several years—who filled their backyard with an extra-large trampoline they got off Craigslist for a hundred bucks. It’s an extremely popular meeting place and sometimes I see eight or ten kids bouncing around on it at the same time. There’s no safety curtain surrounding it as is so common these days, but when I asked Mara if any child had been injured in the five or six years they’ve had the tramp, she said only one. One afternoon a boy whose mom was quite fearful of it managed to fall off and sprain his wrist.

Why the difference? In Skenazy’s case she is determined for her kids growing up in Queens to have the same degree of autonomy she experienced as a child in the suburbs of Chicago, and here there are a group of parents who have chosen to send their kids to a school where they direct their own learning as well as their own play. All of these moms and dads understand the vital importance of children figuring things out for themselves—the younger the better.

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Democratic School Governance

GOVERNANCE IN SCHOOLS is becoming an increasingly important issue, as educators begin to realize how crucial it is to empower the participants in any educational process.
There are currently many hundreds of schools in the United States and other countries, both private and public, which operate with varying degrees of of student self-government. These take a variety of forms, including democratic vote by students and teachers, a majority vote, or consensus by students and teachers.

For the purposes of this discussion I am not including representative governments or student councils because, for the most part, they are nothing more than a sham and have very little decision making power. It is our contention that the more that the student learner can be empowered, involved in making decisions about his or her education, the more powerful that force can be toward helping them to take true responsibility for their own education. I feel that it is possible to set up such a decision-making process almost anywhere, and that all participants should have safeguards in that process.

In a true democratic process, decisions are made by using all the creative forces and all the authority of the many participants who are involved in making those decisions. To the extent that they are disempowered by special groups having veto power, to that extent is the authority and the creative power of the total body eroded.

When we founded Shaker Mountain school, in 1968, it was set up as a democratic school, with the encouragement of the then-Commissioner of Education of the state, Harvey Scribner. Students were even the majority of our board of trustees. We did this because Scribner had said we needed to have the people we could trust the most on our board of trustees (rather than those who could raise the most money), to make decisions that would be best for the school. We felt that the ones we could trust the most would be the students, themselves.

Throughout the years, all important decisions were made by the school meeting, with all students participating. When particular items were brought to the board of trustees, invariably the student trustees, the majority, would refer these decisions back to the school meeting, feeling that it was the proper forum for making any decision.

Those decisions even included such major issues as buying and selling buildings, the organization of major funding events, and all basic school policies. I feel that the procedures which were developed for the school meeting at Shaker Mountain, created the most effective school self government that I’ve ever seen, having visited several hundred alternative schools, including Summerhill, in England, which was the pioneer in this process.

In the earliest years, decisions were made by a straight majority. Our meetings were always long and sometimes emotional because the real decisions operating the school were made in the meeting. Its always seems to me that schools that reserve their meeting time for “Wednesday afternoon for one hour” couldn’t really be democratic because there are so many more decisions to be made during the week. We often had meetings that lasted the entire Monday morning and Friday morning, sometimes spilling over into the afternoons.

In addition, we had meetings for class announcements every morning during the week, which often had other decisions brought into them. Special meetings could be called by any staff or student by ringing the meeting bell. I feel that this latter feature was very important because it wasn’t necessary for someone to get permission to call a meeting or for a particular person to go around the school rounding up people for a meeting. If the meeting bell rang, there was a meeting, and the meeting bell was considered rather sacred around the school. In fact, if anyone ever rang the meeting bell when there wasn’t a meeting, there was an automatic meeting on that person “for calling a meeting when there wasn’t one.” But this probably didn’t happen more than a handful of times in 17 years.

In the following sections, I will outline the decisions governing the meeting as they evolved at Shaker Mountain School, however, I think it is important to point out that the meeting system is really more of an art than a science, and like all democracies, it is fragile and depends very much upon the respect it is given by the constituents. If at some point people begin to feel that they are not really the ones making the decisions, attendance and participation and creative energy fall off, not unlike the apathy manifested recently in national elections. On the other hand when people feel that they have important decisions to make, attendance is high.

One obvious implication of the last statement is that attendance at the meetings was not compulsory. Neither was attendance at all classes in the school. However, if a group of people at a regular school meeting felt that a particular issue was of such importance that everybody in the school needed to know about it and its consequences, somebody could propose that there be a “super-meeting.” If it was passed, that meeting become a “super-meeting.” It would be necessary for all people around the school to come to the meeting until it was voted that it did not need to be a “super meeting” any more. This probably didn’t happen any more than 10% of the time.

One interesting by-product of the school meetings was that the rate of increase in vocabulary on the part of the average student in school was 2 1/2 times the national rate. We actually had students increase 6 grade levels in a year in their vocabulary, even when they were otherwise not attending classes. We can only assume that this was a consequence of the student’s participating in and listening to the meetings, and determining that they wanted to understand everything that was being said in them.

Two of the most common approaches to self-government are democratic decision making by the majority and decision by consensus of the group. Shaker Mountain school evolved an interesting blending of the advantages of both these approaches, being heavily influenced in the early years by their involvement with the traditionalist Mohawk Indians of the Iroquois Confederacy (We had regular exchange visits with them).

This is perhaps quite fitting because it was the influence of the Iroquois confederacy that convinced Benjamin Franklin, among others, that democratic decision making was a good form of government and, therefore, a good one to be used for the fledgling independent colonies. In our early contacts with the Mohawks we discovered that they made their decisions at a council by having each member express their opinion. If a minority opinion was indicated they would then listen very carefully to that minority opinion, and allow it to be fully expressed, perhaps then changing the decision of the whole group. But ultimately, if they felt that the minority opinion was fully explored and that there were no options offered, the decision of the majority became the decision of the tribes.

An approach somewhat similar to this is used in consensus decision making, in which a person or persons may wish to “stand aside.” They may disagree with the decision, but are willing to let the decision of the rest of the members stand. As it was described to me by Eric Joy, a teacher at the Arthur Morgan School, a Quaker School in Burnsville, N.C., consensus to him means “sense of the meeting.” The clerk of the meeting will try to determine what this sense of the meeting is. If a person offers a dissenting opinion, they are given a chance to express what that opinion is, and then given some time to come up with an alternative proposal. But if they are not able to come up with an alternative proposal, it is incumbent upon the clerk to determine what the sense of the meeting is, and proceed on to make decisions based on that sense.

At Shaker Mountain, decisions were technically based on majority vote. However, it became customary at our meetings for the chairperson to ask people who had voted negatively to say why they had done so, if they were willing say. Subsequently, anybody in the meeting could then ask for a re-vote. The re-vote automatically reopened discussion. If a minority felt so strongly about a proposal that they just could not live with it, they could continuously call for re-votes at the meeting, effectively “filibustering,” causing people to come up with a better or more comprehensive or more universally acceptable proposal.

Even after the meeting was over, if anyone still felt like it didn’t sit well with them, they could call another meeting by ringing the meeting bell or putting it on a succeeding agenda. On the other hand, if people dissented on a particular decision, even if it was a fairly large number, but nobody called for a re-vote or another meeting, that decision would then stand. That minority would be essentially “standing aside.”

By making the commitment to be part of a community that makes decisions by democratic vote, the minority members are obliged to stand by the consequences of the decision of the majority. As opposed to consensus decision making, the people who voted negatively could always say “I told you so” if things don’t work out well. This latter observation is not necessary just a joke, because one of the potential negative consequences of some kinds of consensus decision-making processes is that people could be manipulated out of their opinions in order to reach consensus.

In some school democracies the students elect a chairperson who then chairs the meeting for a semester or some fairly long period of time. This is how it is done at Summerhill. At Shaker Mountain, everybody at one time or another chaired the meetings. Because so many of our decisions were made by democratic meetings under so many different circumstances, it was felt that it was important that everyone learn how to run a good meeting. When a new student came into the school, they would often be elected to chairperson. Then people would ‘kibitz’ them into becoming good chairpersons as they struggled in the initial phases.

At the beginning of each meeting the people who wanted to chair the meeting would indicate so, or there could be nominations from the membership. There was then an immediate vote by show of hands, a process that generally would only take a minute or so. The person who got the most votes would become chairperson and start the meeting, usually with the words “who called this meeting and why?” if it was a special meeting, or “what is the first thing on the agenda,” if it was a regular meeting.

If the chairperson needed to leave the room or was getting tired, they could appoint somebody else to be chairperson. If people felt that the person who was chairing the person was flagging in their attention or was not doing a good job at that point, they could call for a new chairperson. If there was a call for a new chairperson there would be an immediate vote whether or not there should be a new chairperson. If the majority disagreed, the chairperson continued.

If the majority of people indicated that they thought there should be a new chairperson, the current chairperson could either name another chairperson at that point or there would be another immediate election. People tended to elect those whom they thought would get us through the meeting efficiently, but anybody who wanted to chair a meeting generally got a chance and had plenty of opportunities.

The meeting was not allowed to go on, whether it was a special or a general meeting, unless somebody had volunteered to take the log and keep track of the proposals and the decisions that were being made in the official log book.

The log book was a large, hand bound volume of blank pages. Several log books would be filled up during a school year. When a topic was put on the agenda the chairperson would ask who put it on the agenda. The person who put it on the agenda would explain why they put it on. Then a discussion of that topic would ensue. People could make proposals that needed to seconded. Those proposals did not need to be voted on one at a time but could be voted on in a list when somebody “called the question.”

One somewhat unusual decision that was made by the meeting concerned this “calling of the question.” Rather than have this be done strictly by majority vote, it was determined by the meeting that if 5 people were opposed to the question being called (and, therefore, discussion being ended and a vote taken), that was sufficient for us to continue discussion. I don’t recall where the number 5 came from, but it always seemed to be a reasonable procedure.

For somebody just visiting the meeting for the first time, this could be very confusing because somebody would call the question; the chairperson would say “all those opposed,” a vote would be taken, and if there were more than 5 people opposed, the meeting would continue. For the uninitiated, they might wonder if they had missed something: Did they miss the vote of those in favor?

The skill of the chairperson was often determined by their ability to notice when people had raised their hands to speak, and in what order. Sometimes a chairperson would write the names down so they would remember the order in which people had raised their hands. However, it was considered the prerogative of the chairperson to call on people who they felt would move the meeting forward the best.

This for example might include calling on people who had not spoken yet, even if they had only raised their hands after other people who had spoken before. It was also their job to point out to the meeting when they thought certain points had already been expressed, or that people were repeating themselves. The chairperson could call for a vote without the question being called if nobody objected.
New items could be added to the agenda during the meeting. This was sometimes done at the urging of the chairperson when he felt that the business had strayed from the original agenda item and that there was another issue to be decided.

It is important to point out that there was no veto power over the decisions that were made in the school meetings. The staff, for example had two long meetings a week, but the staff had no arbitrary power. The staff were free to offer whatever classes they wanted, and discuss whatever kinds of things they thought were important to the school, but they could not make decisions for the entire school.

Any changes that the staff wanted to make in the overall school policy had to be brought to the school meeting. The meetings often made many creative decisions, decisions that might not have been thought of by any individual operating on their own. I think that it is important to note that we went into the meeting without having a pre-set idea about the decisions that the meeting “should” make, but rather, fully expected that the meeting would be greater than the sum of its parts, and would find a creative solution that no one individual could foresee.

One early decision that was made at the school meeting was the creation of the “stop rule”. It was noted that conflicts between students often arose when two students would be horsing around and one wouldn’t realize that the other had become upset. In such a circumstance, it was decided that the person would then say “stop” at that point, and if it was not clear what they were saying “stop” to, they would say “stop to wrestling”, or even to “stop to calling me fatty.” Those words would communicate the fact that that student was at the point of great frustration and would otherwise feel that they were about to get into a real fight. One of the first questions that would be asked in a school meeting was “did so and so say ‘stop’?” If they had said “stop” and somebody broke the stop rule, it was taken to be a very serious transgression.

We note that at Summerhill, fining people from their allowances is often a consequence of negative behavior. At Shaker Mountain people generally were of low income and did not have money which they could be fined, so a lot of discussion centered around whether a student would be given a “warning” or a “strong warning” for a particular behavior that people objected to. It was sometimes amazing to me how important people found this distinction to be.

A “warning” meant that there would be no particular consequence at that point except for the equivalent of community censure. But a “strong warning” meant that the next time the community could not take that option, but needed to take action. It was very uncommon for some kind of negative behavior to go beyond the strong warning stage. When this did occasionally happen people would go scrambling through the log to see if the person had gotten a warning or a strong warning for the previous behavior.

Our meetings were not only used for discipline in that sense, but also for positive brainstorming. For example class announcements would be made in meetings. Anybody could announce a class. Trip meetings would also be announced there, and the trip meeting would decide where they were going to go and how they would raise the money to get there.

If someone had a problem that came out in a meeting that looked like it was going to take more attention than the meeting could provide, someone would often propose that there be a “small group” to help that person. Anybody could volunteer to be part of that small group but the people in the group would have to be approved by the person for whom the group was being formed, or in the case of a conflict between two people, by both parties.

Our process of conflict resolution by meeting was so effective that we would often go an entire school year without any kind of a physical fight between students. Especially because of the size differentials and age differentials between students in the school, physical force was very highly frowned upon. The meeting did have the power to suspend a student from the school or kick them out of the school. What was more common as a result of serious transgressions over a period of time would be for the meeting to propose that a student be sent back through the admissions procedure and under the supervision of the admissions committee, as if they were a new student trying to get into the school.

The admissions committee was comprised of students and staff who ran for the office and were elected by the school community annually. I regularly ran for it, because I usually had the basic information about a new student. Sometimes I was elected. Sometimes I wasn’t. One student explained to me once that he had not voted for me because he felt I had enough power just sitting in on the admissions meetings.

One final and important point: People were respected in my school and in the meeting for who they were and what they said. I had to express myself strongly because of the fact that I had no arbitrary power. Others learned how to do the same. I knew I would be listened to, and that the meeting had fail-safe procedures. Sometimes my ideas were accepted by the meeting. More often, we came up with something better. We had faith in our ability, as a group, to solve any problem that came along. And for the 17 years that I was there, we did just that.

These ideas have been adapted for use by a wide variety of schools and programs. Sussex School, a 70 student independent alternative in Missoula, Montana, had a waiting list of 325. Those people, with the help of Sussex, hired me to help them create a new school. Organizing a meeting of potential students direcly from the attendees, we had the “first meeting” of the new school, before it even had a name. My niece, 11 year old Jenifer Goldman, whom I was homeschooling at the time, chaired the first meeting. This ultimately led to the creation of Shining Mountain School, and a spinoff school called Avalon. It also led to a public school alternative that was inspired by the process.

This democratic meeting process has also been developed for use by such diverse groups as LIGHT, a Long Island homeschool group, and Islip Alternative, a public school program for “at risk” high school students. The homeschoolers were immediately at home with the idea, with even the youngest, a four year old, participating fully. At first, the students at Islip were skeptical of the idea, but as we went along, you could see the body language of the students change.

They committed themselves to the idea of their own empowerment, and continued to have such meetings every week. When the school district made plans to lay off some of their teachers at the end of the school years because of budget cuts, these “at risk” students were the only ones in the district to mount a protest to the school board. One of the teachers told me that she was sure it was because they had become empowered by the democratic school meetings.

If you would like to arrange a consultation, or for more information, contact Jerry Mintz at jerryAERO@aol.com or call (516) 621-2195.

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An Interview with Ron Miller

The following interview is shared with you by both Ron Miller and Isaac Graves. To learn about this interview series and reproduction, citation, and copyright information, please click hereTo find out more about Ron Miller and his work, click here.

Ron Miller

Miller, RonIsaac Graves:  What does community mean to you? 

Ron Miller: A community is a group of people who have a meaningful shared experience. It could be based on where they live or the kind of work they do or ideals they hold—in each case there is some common experience that forms a bond. Of course some such experiences are much deeper and more significant than others, and so the qualities of a community depend on the situation.

IG: How does community play out in your life?

RM: In a community of peers I can talk openly. I can express myself and people understand me, even though my thinking is pretty far outside the mainstream. In the community where I live, there's an underlying desire to accept each other because we're sharing a place and want to be comfortable in that place, to feel at home.

IG: What do you find most meaningful about community?

RM: Probably the sense of solidarity or camaraderie. It's hard to go through life feeling alone, especially when you are doing more radical kinds of work. If you're fighting against the system, it's nice to have allies and not feel that you're entirely detached from the social world. And having community, a sense of place, where I've been living the last few years is a precious experience in this over-developed, over-technologied, mass  culture. I love the feeling of living in a small Vermont town, recognizing people and being recognized wherever I go.

IG: What's missing in community?

RM: In most places—less so where I'm living now but even there to some extent—there can be a lack of connection. I think a lot of people are very busy these days or we're preoccupied with our own private affairs. There is so much distraction, online and everywhere else. I've found that if I don't make a very deliberate effort to reach out to people, we don't get together very easily. In a truly strong community, our lives would more naturally overlap.

IG: What is an ideal community to you?

RMA blend of commonality and diversity. There's enough commonality to be the basis for collaboration and mutual understanding, but at the same time,  there is a celebration of people's differences and welcoming everyone into the community. I think it's pretty easy to have one or the other, but to have both is kind of the challenge.

IG: What does a democratic education mean to you?

RMWell, it naturally follows from my definition of an ideal community. It's an approach that respects every person, that honors diversity, even while it builds a sense of community where everyone feels that they belong. Everyone has a voice and can participate as they are, be themselves. They can pursue their own learning interests and inclinations, yet they are challenged to go outside themselves and accommodate others' needs and perspectives as well.

IG: How does education play out in your life? 

RMI tend to be very intellectual. I love intellectual stimulation, so education has always been nourishing to me, whether it's formal study for degrees or just my own reading. I get a lot of satisfaction from expanding my awareness of the world.  And then I have always loved to share that sense of discovery. I'm essentially a teacher; that's been my major aim in life. 

I've loved teaching college and graduate students, younger children, and retired adults. I even enjoy being a tour guide or giving directions to a visitor.  Although I retired from my work in alternative education, I'm coming back to it in a way because I'll be running a community learning center in our small town. I just can't stray too far from being an educator!

IG: What do you find most meaningful about your work in education?

RM: I think I'm gratified by how I've been able to think outside the box, to discover or create new ideas, a different framework for understanding what education is. I guess my work has been meaningful to a certain number of people. None of my books have been bestsellers, but to the extent that they have inspired a few hundred readers, it was certainly worth the effort. I'm mostly talking about work I did work or decades ago. What is currently most meaningful are the informal classes I've been teaching, mostly to retired adults, on American history. I've got my own little group of followers who love these classes. And I love the research preparing for them; I completely immerse myself in the topic.

IG: What's missing in education?

RM: For myself,  I have made my own education so if there's a gap, I tend to fill it pretty quickly. What's missing for education for the world, for kids today, is what I wrote about for 30 years. What's missing is a sense of the wholeness of our humanity. Education is defined so narrowly as academic achievement, the acquisition of a list of bits of knowledge, and it really needs to be an expansion of human consciousness, which is much more then adding different knowledge.

IG: What is an ideal education to you?

RM: An ideal education is one that allows every one of us to find the best within us, find what our potential is and what our calling is, and to grow into that and to express it, and contribute to a society or culture that also nourishes us.

IG: What do you think people should know about the relationship between community and education?

RM: I don't know how to even think about education without the context of community.  The dominant definition of education as individual aptitude, as a system for testing everyone to see where they fit on a mechanistic scale, is such a narrow and impoverished view!  Genuine learning is a social and cultural activity and community is essential to it. What can it even mean to learn something, to know something, outside of a social context?  That is a view that treats human beings as information processing machines, a view I find revolting.  All real education is community-based, and wise educators are ones who recognize that and work with that reality.

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An Interview with Nikhil Goyal

The following interview is shared with you by both Nikhil Goyal and Isaac Graves. To learn about this interview series and reproduction, citation, and copyright information, please click hereTo find out more about Nikhil and his work, click here.

Nikhil Goyal

Nikhil GoyalIsaac Graves:  What does community mean to you? 

Nikhil Goyal: A community is a group of people linked by a common bond.

IG: How does community play out in your life?

NG: I’m part of several communities. One in particular is the Under 20 Summit Community, a group of young people under twenty years of age who want to change the world. I interact and collaborate with many of these people on a regular basis.

IG: What do you find most meaningful about community?

NG: Working with people are committed to similar purposes. 

IG: What is an ideal community to you?

NGAn ideal community would be an environment where you can engage with people that have similar and contrasting views and are from all walks of life. It’s so important that you have a lot of diversity in the types of people that you're working with. In a community you might find a new opportunity, a new person to connect with, an network that you could work with perhaps.

IG: What does a democratic education mean to you?

NG: In my mind, democratic education would be defined by: the learners, themselves, having full autonomy and control over how, where, what, and when they learn.

IG: How does education play out in your life? 

NG: I’m a self-directed learner. I’ve curated learning experiences through the Internet, conferences, books, lectures, and various platforms.

IG: What do you find most meaningful about education?

NG: Freedom to learn without coercion or interference.

IG: What's missing in education?

NG: The voices of the learners.

IG:What is an ideal education to you?

NG:  An ideal education is one where I have the resources, tools, and mentors at my disposal.

IG: What do you think people should know about the relationship between community and education?

NG: I believe the city should turn into a learning ecosystem, where public spaces, like libraries, makerspaces, and museums are transformed into places of collaboration, problem solving, and creativity.