The Cost of Order
This Tuesday will mark one month that I have been serving as a guide at Chisholm Creek Academy and it has been a ride. When presented with the opportunity to contribute to the blog I excitedly began writing down my thoughts. Only one problem…I have too many thoughts. All the amazing things I’ve seen already, the growth I’ve seen in many of our learners and in my own children. All the benefits that I foresee with the Acton Academy structure. This is off to be the adventure of my life and I’m loving every moment of it. Well…almost every moment. Chisholm Creek Academy is a messy place right now, figuratively and literally, and at times it drives me crazy.
My education was not this messy. Sure it had its moments, but it was structured and ordered. Everyone knew their role and was expected to play that role. It was neat. The teacher told us what information we needed, we paid attention and were graded based on that attention and our ability to retain what we heard. Sure there were opportunities for creativity and hands-on learning; I took particular joy in creative writing where I could set the rules for my own world, but these were generally few and far between. We arrived at school and played outside until the bell rang, then everyone ran inside to their seats for morning announcements and the pledge of allegiance. The teacher would then instruct us until the bell rang again and everyone ran back outside for recess again. And again the bell would ring and we would return to our seats. Like a choreographed dance, everyone in their specified place, looking and moving like they were expected to. Predictable. Routine. Ordered. There is nothing wrong with order itself. We need predictability in life to avoid curling up into an anxious ball and never moving again. And so choreography has its place. But who is the choreographer? Or rather who should the choreographer be?
For the last three years I worked at an alternative school on the southside of Indianapolis as a high school behavior education teacher. My students had universally been sent to us after being kicked out of school for various misbehavior, often defiance. Violence was also not an uncommon reason - neither was drug use - but I think that most of these stemmed from defiance. Typically it started young. Often, poor home lives made it difficult for a student to focus and learn. Sometimes this drove them to act out intentionally because they figured it was better to be bad than stupid, because if they were good at being bad at least they were good at something. The students that truly intrigued me were the ones with relatively stable homes, fairly high intelligence, and no drive to engage with school. These were the students who were told, “Here is your seat” and then asked, “Why?” They were the ones who were told, “Single file line” and said, “Why can’t I walk next to my friends?” They were told, “Because I’m your teacher and I said so'' and responded, “Why should I care what you say?” Instead of teaching these children to think critically and engage rationally with the dance they were expected to be part of, they were punished. Removed from the class. Removed from the school. Made to stay after school. Made a pariah. Made and outcast. Made an example of.
Most children comply. The ostracization and disapproval from their teacher becomes too much and they figure out how to play along. They stop asking questions and do what they are told and play the role assigned to them. The few that don’t stop asking because they never get an answer that satisfies, give up on the system. The law says they must be at school and, for most, that is enough to get them there most of the time, though attendance was almost universally poor among my high schoolers. Otherwise, they didn’t try. If the system didn’t want them, they didn’t want the system. It’s not that they didn’t want to succeed. I had students who wanted to be engineers, doctors, veterinarians, and psychiatrists, but by the time they made it to us many were so far behind it would be a herculean task to climb out of exile and achieve their goals. Because they were always told what to do, not why or how to do it, and there was some part of them that refused to accept “because I said so” as a sufficient reason to drive their behavior.
It may sound like I’m romanticizing many of these students, and to a degree I am for the sake of rhetoric. Our students were rough. Vulgarity was the native language and it was not uncommon for disputes to be resolved in the violent three seconds before staff could intervene, but these are symptoms, not the disease. I know this because of how we achieved order. My last year there I worked with an excellent team. One teacher was a woman about my age (late 20s) of slight build who many of our students could lift with one hand. She oversaw our most violent students, the ones who were seriously gang affiliated and a few who were violent felons. She maintained order and her students began to progress and excel. Several of her students were able to graduate after being several years behind in academics. How did she do it? Respect. She treated each student like a person who deserved an explanation. She knew that she didn’t deserve their obedience by default, that she had a duty to earn it. She was just and she let her students figure out what was and wasn’t acceptable in her classroom. The rules she handed down she could back up with reason and she did not shy away from engaging rationally with students who pushed back against her rules. She let them enforce the rules socially as well. They didn’t have to wait on her to discipline a student out of line; they were accountable to each other. She never had serious fights because she respected her students and so cultivated in them similar respect. She didn’t pay lip service to the idea of individualism; she was authentic and they knew it. It wasn’t authority that these students rejected. It was arbitrary and unjust authority in which they had no say. And I don’t blame them.
Shouldn’t we all strive to ask questions? Shouldn’t curiosity and rationality be among the most valued virtues one can develop? Shouldn’t we stand up to authority that seeks to stifle us instead of serve us, which derives its power from threat and punishment rather than respect and rationality? What does it say about a system that takes people with these natural traits and, rather than helping to shape them into powerful forces for exploration and service, beats them down and shoves them out to wallow in isolation?
Right now at Chisholm Creek Academy, it can be hard to see what dance is developing. Learners are tripping over their feet and bumping into their peers. They are trying to figure out their place, what role they can play, and what roles their peers play. It would be fairly easy for me to swoop in and “save” the day. To assign roles. To dictate what tasks need to be completed and when. To remove the chaos and those who bring it into the studio. To impose order. It would be a lot more comfortable for me. It would probably be a lot less stressful for many of our learners. But what would it cost? What would I be doing to these young individuals who have a right to find their way in the world? Who have a duty to learn how to figure out what they value and find the courage to stand for it? What would I do to the ones who refuse to take “Because I said so” as an answer? How much individuality and courage would I need to stifle to achieve comfortable order?
Our school is messy right now, figuratively and literally. Chaos abounds and our learners haven't quite figured out how to manage that yet. They will. They will learn to trust each other. To trust themselves. To work as a community to choreograph a dance that is uniquely theirs. One that will be more beautiful and meaningful than anything that I can impose. They will figure it out because we trust them. We respect them as individuals who are capable of confronting the chaos that emerges and conquering it. We believe they have a right to an explanation, one that is genuine and empowers them to engage rationally with the system that they are a part of, and rationality is the bane of chaos. They have a right to face these challenges, and to be the hero of their own story. They aren't there yet; it’s only been a month after all. There is still a lot of chaos and disorder. Sometimes I can’t stand the messiness of it all. But I wouldn’t miss a moment of it for the world.
Nicholas Nelson
Chisholm Creek Academy Guide
