Wichita Sudbury School Reflective

It’s time.

It’s time to take a look back at what happened with Wichita Sudbury School. I have a lot of trauma around it, so maybe I can process a bit and try to heal through writing.

Why trauma? Well, WSS was my baby. It was an idea I conceived and tried to make happen. No. DID. Did make happen. For a year and a half. I can’t forget that we actually opened and ran a school and HELPED children. These students LEARNED from their experience at the school I co-created. Then why does it hurt every time I think about it?

Because I’m focusing on how we couldn’t survive. With our rotating cast of, at most, six concurrent students, all paying only what their families could afford, we literally couldn’t keep the doors open.

And more than that, I was second guessing myself the whole time.

Sudbury stands for freedom. Not just freedom to learn what you want to learn. Not just freedom from taking particular classes. Literal freedom. Inside the confines of rules of the Handbook, students are free to do anything they want, including nothing. As a human, this speaks to me, but as a Millennial, watching students spend the entirety of their school time playing Minecraft and Roblox was… upsetting somehow. I knew that at larger Sudbury schools, the students often get new ideas from watching others, but our tiny school didn’t have the variety of types of people and interests. The teacher in me longed to assign them portfolios and essays on what they were learning, an idea completely antithetical to the Sudbury name. So instead, I made my tea and read in the other room, pretending I was okay. For a year and a half. All while fundraising and talking with parents and trying to convince everyone that I believed in the process.

So that’s a large portion of where my trauma comes from then, is it? Being a teacher at a Sudbury school, trying to convince myself that I’m doing the right thing by allowing the students to play on the computer?

You know, what if we didn’t even have computers? This is my first time thinking of it. What if we weren’t donated computers? What if we only had one? What would the students have done? I can only speculate, as I’ll have no way of ever actually knowing. The issue can’t just be the computers. As Americans in 2017, we did everything on computers. Khan Academy, Codewars, YouTube, Google.. we wouldn’t be able to access any of it without computers. But what if.

We DID have plenty of things in person, though, like our weekly School Meeting, Judicial Committee any time there was a complaint filed, and classes like our martial arts and yoga, as well as Decorating Committee, which was regularly busy decorating the school. Yes, it hurt my Millennial soul that the students weren’t continually trying to better themselves, and there were days I didn’t see anyone for hours, but that’s not the end of it.

As long as we’re playing with hypotheticals here, what would have happened if you dropped my students into an existing school, like Hudson Valley or Clearwater? Somewhere where there was support for them. My guess is that they would have thrived. Sure, they still probably would have spent a lot of time playing their games, but perhaps not as much as they did here. Sudbury is a good model. Just maybe not for me, as a staff member.

So where, again, is my trauma coming from?

1. Trying to push with my whole self a model I didn’t 100% believe in

2. Watching something I created fail

Is there a 3? No, at the moment, I don’t believe there is. I’m not sure if I’m operating purely on logic brain at the moment or if writing this short piece really has helped me process through some of the hurt. But regardless, I don’t feel like crying when thinking about WSS for once. I’m tired of saying hiding all my pain. I want to acknowledge and say yes.

Yes, we made something. It was a school that operated for a year and a half.

Yes, I experienced burnout with trying to cheerlead for it.

Yes, it hurt when we had to close due to financial struggle.

Yes, I know for a fact (via their parents) that at least some of the students had an extremely positive experience at the school.

As for the future? I still want to remain in education, making the best decisions I can in a tortured career. I feel stronger as a teacher, however painful it is to me. I feel like I’m making a difference and that I’m where I need to be. So, as soon as I can, I’d like to get my teaching license renewed. I’m sure there’s somewhere that will welcome me, crazy radical ideas and all.

Edit, later that evening:

Okay. Point 3. Mourning what could have been. It could have been awesome. It could have been the best thing for Wichita and for me and for hundreds of students yet to come. But it wasn’t. And sometimes I forget that I’m still mourning that.

Books Included in the Sudbury Valley School Starter Kit

Summaries updated as I read them

Free at Last: The Sudbury Valley School

by Daniel Greenberg

1987 (1995 reprint), 184 pages

If you are looking for somewhere to start delving in, this is it. I consider this the quintessential Sudbury book. It is the first book published by Sudbury Valley School Press, and covers, in quick, easy language, all of the introductory questions parents have.

The Sudbury Valley School Experience
by various authors
1985 (1987, 1992 reprints), 234 pages
This is the second-most turned to book about Sudbury education. In a series of short articles and vignettes, adults at SVS describe different aspects of school life. It ends with A School for Today, 25-page account of how Sudbury works and why it's perfectly fit for modern times, that would be great to share with parents.

Starting a Sudbury School: A Summary of the Experiences of Fifteen Start-Up Groups

by Daniel Greenberg, Mimsy Sadofsky

1998, 220 pages

Written specifically for potential founders, if the title didn't give that a way, this one is incredibly practical. It guides step-by-step through a lot of nitty-gritty and answers questions I didn't know I had. This is one to keep nearby and check every so often for recommendations on how to go about different situations. 

Legacy of Trust: Life after the Sudbury Valley School Experience

by Daniel Greenberg, Mimsy Sadofsky

1992, 332 pages

The first (SVS Press) study of SVS graduates, 188 individuals that graduated over the span of 21 years after SVS was established. Great to have on hand when speaking with parents who are new to the movement, as it answers such questions as, "Will my child be able to go to college without classes and grades?" It probably isn't something they would want to read in its entirety, but perfect to flip through for a little while. I keep mine highlighted for easy reference.

The Pursuit of Happiness: The Lives of Sudbury Valley Alumni
By Daniel Greenberg, Mimsy Sadofsky, and Jason Lempka
2005, 364 pages
The second study of SVS graduates. I had hoped that it would be better, more informative, and more up to date than Legacy of Trust, but it's just different. It has more anecdotes and direct quotes from graduates, but fewer statistics and findings about them. 

A Long and Emotional Introduction to Starting a Sudbury School

I've been staring at a blank page all day.

I've been trying to write about the two weeks I spent in another state visiting a Sudbury school, and I think, instead, I'm letting my perfectionism control me. I wanted to write up a sweet, little blurb about the school that they could add to their list of things cool people have written about them. I wanted it to be a positive, little thing that we could all share around and be happy and proud about.

But the truth is, my experience there and my thoughts about Sudbury aren't entirely positive.

The reason I can't write is because I haven't been true to myself. I've been trying to hide. I've been trying to hide all of the real-life, potentially negative aspects, both from myself and from everyone around me. I've been trying to convince everyone that there are simple solutions and that I trust myself to make positive change happen.

~*~

Okay, back up. You deserve more context for all of this emotion I'm spewing at you. I've been writing a lot about how teaching high school went last year, but I haven't mentioned anything about what I'm doing this school year.

Well, I'm not teaching.

For years I've been entertaining a daydream about creating my own school. That's the logical outcome for this entire blog, right? Surely that's why I've been exploring so many aspects of education, right? What else would one do with this knowledge?

And yet it's remained a dream for so long.

Almost two years ago now I started seeing a therapist. It has been an incredible journey of self-discovery and insight into the psychology of humanity. I've grown more than I ever expected to, difficult as a journey as it was. I've found parts of myself I didn't know existed, parts of us that we all have in common but never speak of, parts of humanity that make us flawed but beautiful. I've discovered how to embrace the parts of life that are uncomfortable and learn from them. I feel like I am foundationally almost a different person, continually changing and growing and learning and living--intentionally.

I've learned that my life is my own, and I am in charge of how it goes.

Subconsciously, I've been living in the pattern, the system, that modern society has created. It's not a bad pattern. It does very well for most people. But that doesn't mean that I have to be confined by it.

That school doesn't have to remain a daydream. I can bring it to reality. It's a lot of work, but I  can make it happen.

There are people out there that do great things. They are real human beings, just like I am, and I, too, can do great things. I know I can because they can. We are fundamentally the same. We are all made of star stuff, after all.

~*~

The journey to create a school still probably wouldn't have gotten off the ground if it weren't for the random happenstance of realizing that Joanna, an acquaintance, a friend-of-a-friend, also had daydreams of creating a school. We come from different backgrounds--I'm an unsettled teacher; she's an unsettled parent--but that unifying desire to make something great was all it took. Neither of us were going far on our own, but as partners, we pushed each other to accomplish more. It's her children I think of now when I start to question myself.

My research, having gone through a Montessori phase, was now travelling through the land of Sudbury. We hesitated but then went all out on a successful internet fundraising campaign to raise $675 and purchase a School Planning Kit from Sudbury Valley School.

The first goal after receiving the kit was supposed to be looking through the material more thoroughly to determine whether this was, in fact, the path we wanted to be on. It was roughly timed, though, because Joanna got caught up in other aspects of life, and my brain simply refused to look critically at the material. Every time I sat down to ask myself, "Is this what you want your school to be?" the immediate response came, "Uh, well, of course. We spent all this money, and it seems like the right choice." Our progress stalled. At least I had set up that two-week visitation to one of the schools I had been in contact with! I allowed the dust to settle while I waited for the trip. "Everything will be better after the trip," I told myself. "You'll go and see how perfect it is and come back motivated and eager to keep going all the way to the finish line."

But nothing is perfect, after all.

I am so incredibly thankful to the school for hosting me for two weeks. It was a fantastic experience that I still haven't completely unpacked yet.

Again, mostly because I'm afraid to. I'm afraid to come to terms with two major points. But we don't move forward without difficulty, so here we go.

~*~

The first point is partially an issue with my own expectation. I had built myself a little bubble of how I imagined Sudbury to be, and I was unsettled when I didn't find it to be true. Or, more accurately, when I found it to be truer than I completely realized.

"It's the atmosphere," I told everyone who asked my first impression. "It's an atmosphere of literally doing whatever you want and not feeling any amount of judgement for it. It's one thing to know that, conceptually, but it's another thing to actually witness it."

What I meant to say was, "I'm happy to see the littlest ones running and playing in the main room where they have a lot of space; their bodies and minds appreciate all the physical movement and activity. I'm also happy to see the group of kids playing video games in the computer room; they're learning to solve complex puzzles and be efficient and control technology. However, the teenagers just hanging out and talking make me uncomfortable."

Perhaps it's because I'm still stuck in the current societal system of, "Okay, you're going to be productive now, right?" In the Sudbury framework I had built for myself, it was okay for the children to play all day because they are learning in their own ways, and when the appropriate time comes, something will click inside of them, and they will produce something. They will become something. They will have something to show for all of the work they did when they were younger. They will prove to all the adults watching with scornful faces that freedom is a shortcut to a happy, productive adult life.

How could these teenagers just sit around talking when they had so much to do? They should have been well on their way by now. What happened? Did they join the school at too late of an age? Did they not get what they needed out of their younger years? Was the system failing them?

Boy, did these teenagers have something to teach me. And, in true teaching fashion, the seeds they planted in me when I met them at the beginning of the month are just now starting to sprout. I suspect I won't be harvesting fruit from them anytime soon, but for now, the sprouts are reminding me what trust is all about.

Trust is the backbone of the entire Sudbury model. Again, it's one thing to know, conceptually, but it's quite another to actually practice it.

Because teenagers, you know... Teenagers like to hang out and talk. That's true of teenagers everywhere, and it's true of Sudbury teenagers. I know, logically, that they're getting a lot out of it, just like the others running around in the main room and playing video games in the computer room. They're learning what is socially acceptable. They're learning how to treat others. They're learning empathy, current events, and how to have a conversation. They're learning how to interact with others. They're learning connection.

It doesn't matter that the girl with the sketchbook couldn't draw every day with all the conversation buzzing around her. It doesn't matter that she admitted she doesn't "get any work done at school" and does most of her drawing at home. She chose to stay in that room and participate in the conversation instead of finding a quite space to be by herself, and I'm choosing to trust that she's getting what she needs.

The oldest teenagers were actually the ones that had been there the longest, and, as difficult as it was for me to see at the time, they were serving as impeccable role models for the younger students. They were the ones who ran the weekly school meeting and judicial committee that met whenever a problem needed to be solved. They were the ones that scolded the younger ones for running in the halls and kept the school running smoothly. Sure, they didn't do a perfect job, but I'm choosing to trust that they are getting out of it what they need.

I can tell it will be a long journey to actually embracing this. It will take a long time and a lot of struggle on my part, but if I allow myself, I can form myself in this way. I've had 28 years of society forming me, so that it will take effort and patience to unlearn is to be expected.

But how can I also convince parents to trust their children if I am also struggling?

~*~

Which brings me to my second point--I'm still not convinced Sudbury is the model I want to follow.

I am hyper-aware of my tendency to, as my husband puts it, follow the novelty. I'm the type of person who likes to explore everything. There's always something new to look into. Who's to say that in one year's time I won't feel the same about Sudbury as I do about Montessori. Goodness knows the Sudbury community is rife with drama.

But even more than that, settling down with one model for what, at this point, seems like the rest of my professional career... That scares me more than anything else. It almost seems like a compromise of my own values. In the aforementioned "list of cool things people have written about" the Sudbury school I visited this month, I found links to where two other visitors like me had written of their experiences. Two other people who explored alternative education. Two other people on this endless quest.

I don't want my quest to be over. I don't want to settle down and decide, "This is the best. There's no reason to keep looking." And that's the biggest reason I'm hesitant to commit to the Sudbury model.

Joanna and I have played around with the name of our future school, which we're still planning to open September 2017. Nothing seems quite right. We almost settled on Wichita Creative Learning School but then decided it was too ambiguous. Immediately upon returning home, I decided we had to commit, at least partially, to Wichita Sudbury School so that we could open into an already existing community. We could keep our business name as Wichita Creative Learning, Inc., but the school itself needed to completely comply with the Sudbury model so that we could have support that came with it.

Now again I'm questioning that.

~*~

There are no easy answers. Life is not that simple.

I'm fully aware that this school could fail. I'm also fully aware that even if this school is successful, it's not necessarily the only thing left in my professional career. I'm hoping that it can grow and change with me, but I'm not quite sure how to let it.

And that's where I stand now, eager to proceed but nervous that I'm going in the wrong direction.

But I can trust myself.

One thing I've learned from therapy is that there is no right direction. Any direction I choose to go is fine. Regardless of what happens, I will continue to grow and learn. If I let fear of failure control me, I won't do anything great. And I know that I can do great things.

Summerhill School, an Overview and a Short Book Review

Summerhill School: A New View of Childhood by A. S. Neill, Revised and Expanded, 1996 American edition, edited by Albert Lamb.

Summerhill is wildly popular in the realm of alternative education today, so let's start with a little general information about the school itself before we get into details on the book.

Summerhill was founded by Alexander Sutherland Neill in 1921, first in Germany. It soon moved to Austria, again to Dorset, England, and finally ended up in Suffolk, England in 1927, where it's remained ever since. It's a boarding school that houses around between 60 and 100 students (boys and girls) aged 5 to 18. It is known for being one of the first democratic schools, meaning that rules and general functioning (apart from, in this case, human resources and finances) are conducted by a popular vote in which each student and staff member counts as one voice. Lessons are held by about 10 teachers in traditional subjects, such as math, English, and science, and also in non-traditional things, such as gardening, making paper airplanes, and playing chess, though no lessons are compulsory. Play is seen as more important than academics, and students that come from other schools typically spend an entire year or two attending no classes at all. The selling point of this is that when students do decide to attend classes, it is at their own desire, and, with such intrinsic motivation, quickly excel.

The school has survived the death of its founder in 1973, against his own expectations, and is now run by Neill's daughter, Zoe Readhead. She has pulled the school through a number of inspections by the UK's Ofsted (Office for Standards in Education, Children's Services and Skills), one of which ended in an order to force compulsory of lessons. The school took the department to court and won a settlement. The whole ordeal must have been an anxious time for the community, and a BBC movie titled Summerhill was based on that event. It seems as though the government has gotten a better sense of how the school functions since then, and has given it space to exist without fear of being shut down. Their 2011 inspection indicates that they recognize the unique benefits Summerhill offers.

Also interesting to note, possibly to no one but me: as of 2011, Ofsted lists day school tuition as roughly £3,000 to £9,000 ($4,500 to $13,000) and boarding tuition as roughly £8,500 to £14,000 ($12,000 to $21,000). I'm assuming this is per term, which is roughly equivalent to an American semester. That's quite a bit, but then again, I've never looked at prices for boarding schools. The day school prices seem a little much, too, though.

As for the book itself, it's necessary read with some context in mind. Again, Summerhill was founded in 1921. Having been up and running strong for almost 100 years, it's no longer the experimental school it once was. It wasn't even really an experimental school when the book was written in 1960. The author, however, is the same man, and he carries with him some characteristics from his age. Reading his words, Neill certainly seems like someone's grandfather.

He certainly has some mannerisms that would be inexcusable in today's educational setting. The most notable is the way he speaks to the students. He claims that he is meeting them on their level and that that this startles them into realizing they don't have to view him as an authority figure. Sure. But literally cursing at the children? At one point, when a new enrollee refuses a cigarette, but Neill is positive that he's a smoker, Neill scolds him, "Take it, damn you." At points, he seems to bicker with the children as though he is one of them. I'm on board with the idea of treating students like you would treat adults, but this is just too far.

Additionally, he seems to show no regard for real laws outside of the school. He mentions fears of being shut down, say, if a student became pregnant at the school, but then clearly demonstrates a disregard for other laws, like indecency, smoking, and age of consent. The school makes rules democratically, but it's interesting how many things come up that I feel would be outside of the realm of consideration legally. No, children, we can't go sunbathing nude, no matter how many of you think we should, because it's against the law. The police will arrest us. Or maybe laws in Britain are different than the US laws I'm familiar with. Or maybe they were different in 1960. Neill fears different things will shut down the school than I would currently would.

And then there's the small point of him coming to education with an interest in psychology and thinking he needs to "cure" his students...

Apart from that, Summerhill School remains radical for positive reasons, even still. The book garnered a lot of attention when it was published, and it seems like it started quite a movement. I devoured my copy, covering it in highlighting, bullet points, and exclamation points. It was a wonderful read, but alas, for some reason I can't bring myself to go into any further detail here. My brain has processed the information and is ready to move on. I'll have to leave you with links to further research instead. More, undoubtedly, when I take up the concept again.

Summerhill's official website
Wikipedia's Summerhill entry
Zoe Readhead - Summerhill--That Dreadful School!
The Guardian article: Summerhill school and the do-as-yer-like kids
The Guardian article: Summerhill School: these days surprisingly strict
The Independent article: Summerhill alumni: 'What we learnt at the school for scandal'
The Independent article: Summerhill: Inside England's most controversial private school
Centre for Self Managed Learning - Report of an Inquiry into Summerhill School

Montessori and Waldorf -- Post from Vibrant Wanderings

Discussions of the similarities and differences between Montessori and Waldorf education are rampant on the internet. Even a few of my own friends have spoken of personal biases towards one or the other.

Regarding that, I found this post from Vibrant Wanderings to be thoughtful.

List of Montessori Secondary Schools

What follows is a (so far, incomplete) list of American Montessori secondary schools and the unique qualities they have.

A Look into Secondary Montessori Education

Because Montessori didn't write about extensively about secondary education like she did early childhood and elementary, not many secondary Montessori schools exist. I wrote previously that a natural progression from the independence training that early childhood and elementary Montessori schools provide might be an opportunity for children to be completely in control of their own education.

I haven't had the chance to read the translations of Montessori's work, but I've read recently online that she briefly mentioned her idea of secondary schools involving adolescents gaining an education through their experiences working on a farm. Wikipedia has it cited as:

"The essential reform of our plan from this point of view may be defined as follows: during the difficult time of adolescence it is helpful to leave the accustomed environment of the family in town and to go to quiet surroundings in the country, close to nature." (1989, p. 67)

Hershey Montessori School in Ohio seems to have taken that quote to heart when designing their school. They have received much recognition. Here is the Montessori for Everyone blog on Erdkinder (German for Earth Child) and the Hershey school. And here is NAMTA's David Kahn on the Hershey school and Colegio Montessori de Tepoztlan in Mexico.

Noted Montessorian Michael Olaf writes that adolescents need to spend time working with money, finding themselves, and trying different unpaid apprenticeships.

I'd like to get more of an idea of some existing Montessori secondary schools. Perhap they will give me some insight or inspiration. I'll create my list here.

Finally, NAMTA published a journal titled The Montessori Adolescent Analysis in Retrospect that I'd like to get a chance to read sometime (although I'm curious what they mean by "in retrospect"). They also host a course called The AMI Montessori Orientation to Adolescent Studies (hosted at the Hershey campus). I'd really like to attend after I get my Elementary I and II license.

EDIT (2/29/12): Montessori Muddle is a great blog I found that advertises itself as "Middle and High School ... from a Montessori Point of View." From the looks of it, the author talks about a little bit of everything. I can't wait to get reading.

Outdoor Preschool in Norway video

I haven't written anything about Outdoor Preschools yet, but here's a 30 minute video of one in Norway.

Free School / Democratic Education--Introduction

A year ago I heard an episode of This American Life about children and politics. It included a segment about the Brooklyn Free School, a school in New York run democratically by the students as well as teachers. The segment focuses on the participation of the students in the rules, class meetings, and politics of the goings on in the school. This is because the Brooklyn Free School is based on a model by A.S. Neill whose English boarding school, Summerhill School, is one of the first with a democratic foundation. In both schools, students are encouraged to set their own rules democratically with their peers and teachers, everyone's voice counting for one vote. The This American Life segment about the Brooklyn Free School emphasized that rules can be made and unmade by students, but most of the time, nothing is done.

"[That's part of the plan.] You know, so what if there's no resolution? The point is they're left with something to think about. What are you going to do about it? You know, that's more interesting to me than somebody deciding that this is the way it should be. And then it's all easier, and it all goes nicer." -- Katherine Chew on This American Life

More about democratic education later.

Read more:
Wikipedia--Democratic education
Institute for Democratic Education in America

"Community/Neighborhood School" Idea

Yesterday I watched Designing a Great Neighborhood, a documentary about creating a neighborhood in Boulder, Colorado.

I have a love/hate relationship with these kinds of things, sort of Utopia-ish. I'm fascinated with utopian/dystopian novels. I love reading them, but I can't ever sort out my feelings for their ties to the real world. On one hand, it's great to see so much effort going into the creation of this neighborhood--the windows are positioned to take in as much daylight as possible. The roofs, to not block the sun for other buildings. Everything's been planned with such precision. At the same time, you DO wind up with sort of cookie-cutter houses. Yes, they have been designed for efficacy, but the unification IS a bit unnerving.

Those personal feelings aside, I was still fascinated with the documentary and found myself immediately wanting to move there, planning certain details I would have done differently from a design aspect. "My" neighborhood would certainly need schools, of course, because that's where I would work.

At first I considered an elementary, middle, and high school, all in a row next to each other (which is how the schools in the small town I lived in for half of my childhood were positioned, now that I think about it). That way, all of the children could walk to school together with their siblings.

But the more I thought about it, would the high school be necessary? There wouldn't be enough students in the neighborhood to fully populate the high school, so others would have to be brought in--others that would be outsiders. Surely the children could gain enough independence to travel outside the neighborhood on their own to the high school. But then they'd be the outsiders. And they probably wouldn't even get a good education there, anyway.

But wait, if I'd trust that high-schoolers had enough independence to travel the city on their own, that means their former education would have had to create that independence in them. And what better way to create independence in a child than Montessori?

Yes, it's perfect because then the children could transition from a Montessori elementary to a Montessori secondary education. And because I'm not familiar with any secondary Montessori schools, in my mind it looks pretty much like a Free school (which I'll have to blog about later because I realize that I haven't yet).

Well, then, it'll be a three story building, functioning as a community building when school is not in session. The first floor would have the stage for performances, etc. and the early childhood center. The second story would be for elementary aged children, and the third story, for post-elementary. I hadn't determined whether an adult would need to be present on the third story or not. Ideally, the children would be so in charge of their own education that they could function completely independently and only need to visit an adult downstairs occasionally.

It's such a great model for a school, I wish all schools were fashioned after it. Right?

A Second Look into Cooperative Education

I've been avoiding thinking about cooperative education.

After my first day of basking in the glow of its concept, I spoke with my husband about it--my realistic, down-to-earth husband. I don't even remember what he said, but after that, my glow had burned down to a low fizzle. Teacher Tom, after receiving many comments from others also realizing that this type of education had been staring them in the face all this time as well, began a week long special all about coops. I read them along with everyone else, but could no longer get excited. It wasn't until the last day when I was finally able to (almost) put my thoughts into words. Tom asked if there were still questions to be answered and I finally choked this out,

I love the community that evolves from a cooperative school, but I'm concerned about teaching students that don't already have parents that are that engaged in their children's learning and future. How could I create a cooperative-like atmosphere when a full-fledged cooperative school isn't appropriate? I'll do my best to engage parents at whatever school I'm at, but what about parents that can't come into class to help? Or parents that can't pay the tuition for a cooperative school (I know yours is cheap, but I expect getting costs low is a difficult task that not everyone has the skills to do).

I guess what I'm trying to ask is, how do I get my low-income students into the wonderful atmosphere a cooperative school creates?

Someone else must have asked the same question. In his next post, he referenced the question and someone else's name. (Which is good because I just realized when I went to find my comment that I placed it on the wrong post. So there's a possibility he didn't even see it.) His full response can be found here, as it's too long to quote in its entirety, but the most important part of the answer was,

I'm only half joking when I suggest that instead of putting money into things like high stakes testing, new buildings and text books, or getting teachers competing against one another for bonuses, we might want to consider paying these poor parents to get involved with their kid's school. That's what the research seems to indicate will make the most difference.

(He goes on in an elaborated follow up post here.)

You know, one of the reasons I got into education was to make a difference in the world. The biggest difference. The greatest impact. The students whose parents love them enough to send them to an alternative preschool and go into the classroom to work once a week? They're already guaranteed to get a great education whether I'm involved with them or not. The kids that concern me live with their single parent who works three jobs and is too tired when she comes home to cook anything more than macaroni or read a bedtime story. Those are the ones that need me the most.

So to my question, "How can I make cooperative education work for students in low socioeconomic standing?" I'm pretty sure the answer is, "You can't."

And that's why I've been avoiding thinking about it.

It's a wonderful model, especially for today's world of parents who are choosing to stay home with their young children, homeschooling them, providing them local and organic diets, and keeping them away from anything plastic or corporate-made. Not that there's anything wrong with this type of parenting--honestly, it's how I see myself parenting when the time comes--but it's a luxury choice that the middle-class have. It's simply not an option for a lot of families in the United States at this time.

It's a wonderful model, but I no longer see myself getting involved in it. I'm thrilled to hear that it exists, and I loved learning about it. I wish everyone involved in cooperative education the most sincere best of luck.

Now, like Tom suggested, if we could only rearrange some government spending to pay the parents of those inner city children to come into the classroom instead of picking up an extra job...

To learn more about cooperative education, read Teacher Tom's Cooperative Nuts and Bolts series:
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, and Part 5

Also of interest is Montessori Candy, a blog about a cooperative Catholic Montessori preschool. Here is a list of their posts with the Coop tag.

Just a note, October is Coop month.

An Introduction to Cooperative Education (with links to Teacher Tom)

Earlier this month, my husband and I took a trip to Kansas City. On our first day, we had a nice, romantic walk along the plaza in search of a local gourmet burger place he wanted to check out. We found it, and other nice-looking businesses, right next to an early childhood Montessori preschool connected to a temple. I wish I had a picture to show, but even a picture wouldn't do it justice. The feeling I got as I walked along the outside the building I knew wonderful things had and did happen inside, it was a sort of excitement mixed with recognition and nostalgia. What an atmosphere it had! We walked down a little ramp and into our hip burger joint, and the feeling wouldn't leave me alone. I was considering the dream I had recently. I looked the school up on my phone while we waited for our order. Could it be? Was this the school I had dreamed about? Was this Marketplace Education in action?

It was not, of course. It was a regular Montessori preschool, just located on the plaza next to some local businesses. The website did have me intrigued at, "families work together to provide children with the best possible educational environment," however. That was part of my dream, after all, the parents as the business owners and education assistants inside the school.

But that's about where the similarities ended between my dream school and the school on the plaza.

Today an education blogger that I follow posted a new post about coop schools. He's been teaching in a cooperative preschool for the entire time that I've been following his blog (for way longer, actually, more than 10 years). It's been staring me in the face from his sidebar all this time. Of course I had read many of his posts in which parents take a center role. But I wasn't ready to learn yet. "When the student is ready to learn, the teacher will appear."

I read Teacher Tom's post about teaching in a cooperative preschool and subsequently, every post he has written with the "cooperative" label. I nearly cried at each word. THIS was closer to the school in my dream.

I have a lot of learning ahead of me. How does a coop school really function? How does one get started? How would an elementary coop differ from its preschool counterpart?

"Sometimes I describe us as a bunch of families who have decided to homeschool their kids together." It sounds perfect, Teacher Tom. I look forward to learning as much as I can, and perhaps even my own venture into cooperative education.

"Marketplace Education" Idea

I was having a fast-paced, full-fledged action and suspense dream last night, driving a semi-truck across country and chased by aliens in a flying space ship. But when I arrived at a something called a "marketplace school," everything slowed to a halt. Suspense ended. I got out of my semi and went inside to see what it was about.

It was a wonderful little school in its first year of existence, and it got its name from the half a dozen little shops bordering the patio down to its front doors. I believe they were all owned by the parents of the children that went to school there, or if not, they were community members fully supporting the school. My favorite was the bakery, full of delicious sweets and breakfast pastries and selling its wares quickly to the parents and children coming to school that morning.

The patio itself was a brick-laid downhill path, with big, thick wrought iron gates opened every morning and closed off from the street every evening. There were no cars, I don't think the gates would have been wide enough to let a car through--everyone walked. There were tables and benches in a little lounging area where one could eat a pastry they had just bought or sit while they wait for a friend to meet them, but being morning, no one was sitting, everyone was seeing their children off.

The school, at the bottom of the downhill grade, was separated by another set of tall, wrought iron gates. A bicycle rack sat just inside the gates, and some older children were taking off helmets and putting bikes up as they came in. The school doors were made of tall panes of beautiful glass. Inside, I was met by a lot of open space, brown walls with a bold stripe of green paint, and a black leather circular couch. There was a blackboard next to the door, which a handful of children, seated on the floor, were facing; tall shelves of books and materials; and a few wooden tables with four wooden chairs each along the back three walls. The back of the school was as well-lit as the front, perhaps it had floor-to-ceiling windows, and perhaps it led to a small garden out back.

I spoke with the head instructor / principal (whose name was Heather or Feather) after the day began, and she told me all about the school, but unfortunately either I have forgotten it, or my dream-brain made something up that didn't actually exist. The school may or may not have been Montessori-based, but it got a lot of support from the store owners it shared space with. Looking around, there were many parents sitting with their children, laughing and watching them work. Apparently, they also received a lot of support from parents. Who may or may not have been the same people. I talked to a few parents, too. The only thing I remember from what they told me was that I was somewhere in Kansas, remarkably.

When I awoke from my dream, I searched Google for this new concept, "Marketplace Education." I even tried, "Marketplace Montessori." I tried "Market Education," and "Market Montessori," all to no avail. What was this wonderful concoction my sleeping brain dreamed up? Does it exist, in some form, in the real world? Would it, could it, work in reality?

Eat, Exercise, Excel

The PE Methods for Classroom Teachers class I took this summer briefly mentioned a program called Eat, Exercise, and Excel, but just enough to catch my attention make me want to learn more. What follows is the research I found.

Anthony School in Levenworth, Kansas was the elementary school that no one wanted to go to. Teacher turnover rate was high, student grades were low, bullying was rampant, and everyone was unhappy. No teachers wanted to work there, and no parents wanted their children to go there. Until Janine Kempker took the position of principal and turned the school around with a new program she developed, Eat, Exercise, and Excel.

Main points of the program:
-Daily vitamins for the entire school population, students and staff
-Replacing recess with 40 minutes of structured PE
-PE/recess before lunch
-Lunch in the classrooms with polite socializing while learning manners and nutrition
-Teacher eats with students
-Constant access to water (bottles on desks)

It also seems that the school staff cracked down on discipline. The entire school, though happy and healthy, seems almost prison/boot camp-ish from the videos (links below), although I suppose it was a necessary measure to fight the bullying that once owned the playground (and probably every other part of the school).

The lunch aspect struck me as similar to the Montessori school I volunteered at a year ago and as possibly the most important aspect of the changes Anthony made. Eating is a time of vulnerability and sincere humility. Lunch time resembles an assembly line in most public schools I've seen--stand in line, receive plate, receive utensils, receive milk, sit along a long table, eat silently and quickly, line back up, exit, repeat for next class. Anthony has returned to a more natural lunch, calm, peaceable, and social. The teacher that eats with the class (on a daily basis, not as a reward), shows that she is human as well. She needs to eat to stay healthy, just as students do. Oh, and look, she's eating her vegetables! She's drinking her milk! Those things must not be so bad after all, maybe they're worth a taste. And there's no rush to eat quickly because the students have already had recess, and they can chat quietly with their friends as they eat. That results in less upset stomachs and more food eaten rather than thrown away in a rush to the playground.

The vitamins were an aspect I'd never considered before. What a great way to give students, especially low income as these are, a little extra advantage and nutrition. Available only to those with money or grants, but if you have it, use it!

And the test scores, every politician wants to know? Reading from 56% to 84% passing and math from 46% to 82% passing.

What a great program and a wonderful way to build a community. I wish every public school would/could implement something like it.

Links
Eat Exercise and Excel program home page, unfortunately down.
Anthony School before and after, from the EEE website, somehow still available even though the main page is down
PDF explaining program from Kansas State Department of Education, Child Nutrition and Wellness website
29 minute video by Hugh Riordan, M.D.
5 and a half minute video from Fox News

University has pushed me further towards Montessori

Spring semester took its toll on me. I was so stressed, I really had no time for anything else but school, pre-student teaching, and 20 hours of co-op internship work. I had no time at all to research anything on my own time and never once cracked open an education book. As I progress further into my education, I get to experience more and more what it means to be a public school teacher. And I hate it.

During spring semester, I taught science and social studies to second graders in a technology-focused magnet elementary school. My cooperating teacher says I did great, but my science professor (who graded all of my work) wasn't as fond of my ideals and practices. I felt more comfortable addressing the students Socratically, through dialogue and thinking aloud. Unfortunately, I was graded most of the semester on how well I could adhere to the Inquiry model of teaching, which works well for science lessons a lot of the time, but not 100% of the time, and not much at all with other subject, specifically the other subject I taught, social studies. It's a good model. It focuses on students learning scientific concepts by working hand-on with experiments and developing thoughts on their own about what they're seeing and doing, rather than being spoon-fed the concepts and doing the experiments to see if they can apply the knowledge well enough to get it to work. Perfect for a science classroom. But I'm not running a science classroom.

For the unit I taught, I was required to administer a pre- and post-test in order to calculate growth and, therefore, the accuracy of my teaching. I used backward planning, creating unit objectives, basing a post-test based on the objectives, and finally, developing lessons to reach the objectives. And then, as I taught the lessons, before I realized it, I... I was teaching to the test! Me! The non-traditional teacher! Teaching to the test! *sigh*

It wasn't a total disaster, though. I did teach a lesson on the March 2011 Japan natural disasters. The students learned a lot and wrote about what they thought the world could do to help. I was inspired. My science professor was outraged. She sent me an angry email saying that she did not approve or think the lesson was appropriate. She said she would not like her second-grade-aged niece learning what I taught in the school. I promptly responded with an email stating that I thought it was not only appropriate for second-graders to learn current events happening in the world around them and how to rise up and show compassion for their fellow man, but it was imperative. Personal regards to philosophy of educating family members not withstanding. It goes without saying that I received the poorest of my grades for that lesson, regardless of my justifications.

I also taught a couple of lessons about environmentalism, which I thoroughly enjoyed. We learned what composting is, what kinds of materials are recyclable, how to sort them, and even how long certain materials take to decompose (which, I admit, may have been over their poor heads. I wish I had had more time to explain that part). I even got them writing a little, which their classroom teacher didn't hardly bother with because of the high ESOL population (which I thought was all the more reason to focus on it). Good times were had.

I can't decide whether or not I'm looking forward to next semester and my senior year. I'm excited to meet the students I'll be working with next year, and I'm excited to teach and interact with them. But I'm not looking forward to having the lessons I want to teach frowned upon and more teaching to the test.

Public school teachers, I've found, have their days practically already planned out for them. Lunch, recess, and "specials" (music, art, and PE) are already pre-set, and teachers work in grade teams to determine the rest of the schedule. Schedules and routines are great for children. They thrive with a daily schedule. But it leaves no room for spontaneity, which grows flexible children. What if a lesson sparks a big dialogue? In my ideal classroom, we'd continue it because the students are engaged and learning from one another. Who am I to say, "Stop, we don't have time to finish that thought"? Who am I to say, "Stop, we've talked about this enough today"? But that's exactly what the public school teacher would do. What if students are incredibly more focused in math one day, for whatever reason, because somehow something just finally clicked. Why would you say, "I'm glad you finally understand, but now we're going to switch gears and go into English" instead of giving the students more time to apply what they've just figured out?

Unfortunately, I think I know part of the answer. It comes down to funding, No Child Left Behind, and assessments. It always comes down to one of those three these days. It's rush rush rush in public schools. It makes me frustrated, angry, and sick.

At the end of spring semester this year, I took a day to visit the other Montessori school in town, the one I had never been to. It was bigger than K.'s Montessori class of 6-7 students. This one had roughly 10 students per class, pre-K through fifth grade. The students shared three open spaces, one for Kindergarten and pre-K, one for 1-3, and an upstairs for 4th and 5th. The most distinct difference I found in this Montessori school was that they seemed to teach a curriculum based half on traditional Montessori and half on whatever the public school district taught. How unique! They had also embraced technology, from what I could see, something I was thrilled to see! The teachers were friendly and chatted amiably with me about any questions I had until the director kicked me out because the students 'needed to stay focused,' or something. I asked if I could return in the future, but the director edged around saying no. The reasoning seemed to be that I interfered with the atmosphere. Sadly, it appears that they have a closed door policy.

As I fell asleep the other day, I had a random memory of a small marimbula I saw in a store recently. I began to imagine, in the haze of sleep, a scene in which students could pick small instruments, such as the marimbula, a small flute, an ocarina, a triangle, etc., out of a basket to play. I humored the thought for a few minutes until I realized that this scene would not be practical in a traditional public school setting. At that moment, suddenly wide awake, I rejected public schools entirely. It would be acceptable in a Montessori classroom. And at that moment, I fully embraced Montessori. I wanted to be a Montessori teacher.

I did a little research on getting a Montessori license before I went to the second Montessori school at the end of spring semester (which I should call the first, as it was founded in 1985, I believe, and K.'s school will be beginning its third year of operation in the fall). There are few schools that offer Montessori training, and even fewer that offer it for elementary level. And they are far from where I live. And they are expensive, upwards of $10,000. Another option is an online license for around $4,000, which is not recognized by either school of philosophy (AMI--Association Montessori Internationale, AMS--American Montessori Society) but may still get me a job if I try hard enough.

My husband had a job offer for a computer science company that offers Montessori as a company preschool. Wouldn't it be amazing if they hired us both? But I don't want to work with Early Childhood, even though it'd be nice. My heart lies with the elementary age.

The only other thought I had was, with an immediate panic, "What about my pledge!?" Traditional Montessori doesn't lend itself to "Living in the Age of Technology," the fourth section of my Pledge to Guide Today's Students. But then, perhaps I don't want to work in a traditional Montessori school. Nontraditional here, remember? What's more important is that I've decided that I want to pursue a Montessori license, not the particulars of what goes on in the classroom. The Montessori school I visited recently used technology, what's to say I won't end up working in a school more like that?

In the meantime, it just so happens that I'll have Fridays off next semester. I think I'll do some more volunteering, if I can.

EDIT: I didn't want to add this last night because I didn't want to admit it to myself and I needed to rethink a couple of things. Going into Montessori to some people (namely, my husband) means giving up on public schools. It means not reaching as many students. It's hard for another part of me to accept that--the activist part that shouts, "Education is a right!" and wants higher taxes and a good, quality education for all.

But I'm not giving up on public education, per se. I don't want to be the elitist teacher of the private, prestigious Montessori school, I want to be the brave teacher at the alternative school (which just happens to be Montessori) that accepts children that public school has rejected and helps them find success. And besides, there are public school districts that have adopted Montessori methods into their curriculum. I found them during research one day. They don't accept teachers without a Montessori license.

So I'm not going into Montessori to reject public school. I fully support public schools, I just think they need to be remodeled. Having lost the full-out activist kick I was on a few years ago, being a Montessori teacher is doing my part in education, but not having to put up with the system in its current state, and without having to barrel head first into the activist world (and maybe, maybe not making a dent).

Yes, he's right, I won't reach as many students that need my help, but I may be able to help the students that need the MOST help, assuming I find my destined school (or start my own, WHEW, WHAT WORK!). Besides, from what I experienced last year, going into public schools at this point may spell early burn-out for someone like me. And then where would we be?

Who knows what the future will really bring. All I know is that my heart is telling me that going into Montessori teacher training is the next step, and I hope to have the courage to listen.

Montessori Experience--pt II

About a month and a half ago, I was accepted into a volunteer position at a nearby Montessori school. Since then, I have experienced an educational environment I had no idea existed and have learned so much. Everything about Montessori is still so new to me, and I have been hesitant to write about it for fear of stereotyping parts of the teaching method, theory, or school because of my limited exposure. Finally, after six weeks of volunteering my four hours, I feel ready to start putting what I observe into words. I am so thankful to the director, "K." for allowing me to have this experience.

K. must have thought it strange when in our first emails to each other, I made reference to her "teachers." Before my first visit, when I imagined a hypothetical Montessori school in my mind, I pictured something similar to the public schools I have worked at as a paraeducator, similar to the schools I went to when I was younger. I had no concept, besides the odd ideas of Waldorf schools I had briefly researched, of a school with so few students and teachers. There is another Montessori school in the city where I live that seems, from what I have heard, to be as large as what I had imagined, but the school where I volunteer, which is in it's first year, has only K., the director, and A., (an assistant? I haven't asked, but she is mostly there when I am, coming and going some of the time on errands) as teachers for the six students, two of which are K.'s children. There is another teacher I have met a couple of times who is the head of the early education division, on the opposite side small building. I do not know much about the early education, because they do not meet on Fridays, the only day I am there. I remember that when I was learning about Waldorf, I found it so strange that the teacher of those schools stayed with her students throughout their elementary years, but after having experienced my Montessori school for a while and having read a little more about Montessori schools in general, it seems only natural in this environment.

Almost immediately upon my first visit, I noticed how much emphasis the students put on manners. When I sat down at the table during lunchtime, (a thought never contemplated in public schools!), they told me that they were "practicing polite table conversation," an idea adorable and novel to me at the time. Politeness and consideration is prevalent in all areas, but it is not strictly reinforced, as in families that have strict, written rules and punishments. In fact, the school has no written rules that I have seen, only gentle, oral reminders of what is expected, and the only punishment that has been given while with me present has been, "Please go sit for a little while on the peace pillow," a big pillow in the quiet library section of the building, merely a chance for the student to catch her breath and settle herself. Without strict rules and punishment, students are allowed to explore their actions, view the reactions of others, and decide for themselves how they wish to act. That being said, the students at my Montessori school are (for the most part) extremely well behaved.

Another thing I realized after only a few visits was that Montessori students seem to need a lot less physical attention than I am used to. At the public schools I have worked at, there are little ones that attach themselves to me immediately, even after having just met me. It's a sort of gradual effect, actually. A couple immediately love you, a few only need a short amount of days before they are comfortable with you, some need only a month or so, and then, of course, there are the ones that take a lot of time and effort to warm up to strangers. Nevertheless, I have come to expect receiving a sudden hug at some point or another from every one of the public school children I work with. But even after six weeks, I have not seen any affection from my Montessori students apart from tone of voice and facial expression. That's not to say that it bothers me, it's just something that I find curious.

There are a few explanations I have mused on for why this is. The first is the amount of non-physical attention received in the classroom. With 20-30 students in the public school classroom, it's hard to address each one as often as they'd like. Because they get fewer chances to speak to a teacher, they might show their affection in quick hugs. Montessori students (at least, the ones I have observed), on the other hand, have a teacher available almost literally whenever they need her. Because they can talk to her whenever they have something to say, they need less of a physical expression.

Or perhaps the parents of Montessori students treat their children on a higher, more mature level than public school parents. After being able to solve problems on their own and live day-to-day becoming more independent, the children need less and less physical affection, at least from strangers.

One last idea, I'm almost afraid to voice (and please don't think me heartless for saying so!), assuming that Montessori students come from financially better off families than public school students, and thus presupposing that their families are more frequently able to show their children physical affection, they would not require as much from strangers. It does sound horrible to say, doesn't it! I hope this is not the case, but it is something I have mused on.

Anyway, more about Montessori later. I have a coffee date with K. in a couple of days, and I hope she will shed some light on some other questions I have so that I will feel comfortable sharing them.

Montessori Experience--pt I

I have been speaking with the director of a new local Montessori school through email for the past couple of weeks. I told her I was interested in volunteering, and she replied that she would love to have anyone interested in Montessori. So today I went for an interview. Having done very little research on Montessori (it's still on my to-do list), I had no idea what to expect.

The school was brand new, hidden behind a maze of miscellaneous office buildings, camouflaged with its neighbors, bearing no brightly colored school sign like one would expect. It didn't even have a somber-colored sign, no attempts to mark this building as a place of learning what-so-ever. Beginning to doubt that I was in the right place at all, I finally noticed a few small, colorful paper snowflakes in a far, dark window giving the identity of the unknown building away.

The entry way of the school was a tiny, security enhanced room that sounded a "Front door open" alarm when I arrived. It had two doors on either side leading in. I later learned that one was to the elementary side while the other was to the early childhood side. Both were shut, and finding no buzzer to push to announce myself, I wondered what to do. I didn't have to wait long; the director, having heard the door alarm, soon came to greet me.

On the inside, the school was a large, open room, learning materials organized neatly against the walls, low tables and chairs to the sides, a big colorful carpet in the center, everything cleaned to the expectations of a surgery room. There was a courtyard in the center of the school, where, I was told, vegetables and plants would be grown in the spring, and a large, fenced-in yard around the back perimeter for a playground. In the back of the building was a kitchen for learning for the elementary students and a shared library in the process of being filled. I understand that the school had been open for less than a year, but I couldn't believe how clean and perfect everything looked. The children all had their shoes off, showing their tiny socked-feed, and the three adults wore slippers. I felt awkward for having kept my shoes on, although I was not told to remove them.

The director showed me around the building, introduced me to a few key learning materials, and then we sat at one of the low tables while the seven students (one-third of a normal class-size, they didn't have many families sign up. There were four first-years, two second-years, and one third-year, the director's daughter, no one over the age of eight), who had been learning with the teacher on the carpet when I arrived, ate lunch at the long table at the other side of the room.

The children seemed intellectual, while still child-like and silly, of course, and the two teachers (the director and the teacher I saw when I came in, the other I only saw briefly--the early childhood teacher?) seemed amiable enough. The environment, however, struck me as more like a home than a classroom. Because the student-to-teacher ratio was so low, the students seemed more like children at their own home, rather than at a school. They were addressed quickly whenever they had a question, they were allowed to learn whatever they wanted (this group was fond of science, and a few had taken up crocheting), they were reprimanded easily (one boy had poured a glass of someone else's soy milk and was told he must drink it because he had already drank from the glass today), even the fact that they all ran around in socks, it was like being home-schooled by someone other than your parents (with the exception of the director's daughter).

The director asked if teaching Montessori was a future goal at the moment, to which I had to admit, it is not. When I started my education career, I told myself that the best place I could be is at a Title I public school, reaching out to as many students that need a positive role model in their lives as possible. I had considered teaching in a private school, back when I was considering teaching English, because I wasn't sure if I would be able to handle public school children. However, having now worked at a public school for a year, I realize that it is where I belong and where I can make the biggest difference. Every day when I walk into a classroom at Griffith, I am greeted with 20 small bodies that depend on me and their teachers to grow. A lot of them don't have anyone else they can rely on, anyone else that tells them that they are smart, capable people that are special and really matter in the world. They need that. At the Montessori school today, I met seven children whose parents care the world for them, read to them at night, and probably hug them constantly. I know that they need the devoted attention their parents pay good money for them to have, but I feel like I have bigger problems to attend to: the kindergartener that doesn't know his letters, the first grader that doesn't talk to any teacher, the third grader whose mother was taken back to jail last night.

I would love to explore Montessori. I want to spend as much time volunteering as they need me. But I don't think that it holds much future for me besides gaining experience in different fields of education and in learning new techniques to take back to my own students.

The director said she would call after she contacted my references as to if she had a position for me. I just have to shake that awkward feeling that every adult there was afraid for me to touch anything, lest I get my dirty public school hands on them.

Alternative Schools--Waldorf

First in an ongoing series

Rudolf Steiner (1861—1925) Austrian

Waldorf schools are fairly popular throughout the world. There are currently 994 schools in 60 countries currently in operation. Teachers stay with a class for their entire lower- or upper-grade education to develop a bond in which it is safe to explore and learn.

A very artistic school, children are taught to draw exceedingly well and to perform in choreographed movements called Eurythmy. First graders are taught to draw a perfect freehand circle, sixth graders are taught to create intricate geometrical patterns, and by high school, students are copying classical works of art and detailed architecture. They learn to draw well, I assume, by copying their teacher, who does detailed chalk drawings on the board. Kindergarteners are taught to make perfect letters by first learning lines: vertical, horizontal, and different types of curves. The teacher eventually directs the children to turning these lines into perfect letters. Writing thereafter is done artistically and without error.

Ways and methods at Waldorf schools seem peculiar. Toys in the classroom are all organic. Clothing worn during Eurythmy performances is a simple frock. Work done in the classroom is error free. The only reason I can determine for why this is, is because Waldorf teachers believe in Anthroposophy, a spiritual “philosophy” Steiner created in which one has an inner nature that is to be brought out. It is what must account for the nontraditional methods. Apart from creating what seem to be an idealistic attitude in the classroom, it does, however, create a new way of thinking about teaching the students. From what I've gathered, the students are allowed to focus their education on areas in which they excel or are very interested.

Sources:
Waldorf Education wiki page
Why Waldorf Works.org
E. Schwartz youtube page