The Day the Studio Kicked Me Out

Today I was asked to leave the elementary studio. We began the morning in what has become our normal routine. I picked a topic I thought would be inspiring and showed a clip of a Ted Talk (What adults can learn from kids | Adora Svitak). As the studio began discussing the concepts covered in the video I could see the wheels turning. The scene unfolded just like a building revolution in a movie. One learner expressed that he agreed with the speaker, that they had all the tools and could easily run the studio. As the realization took hold that adults make irrational decisions sometimes, just like kids, (someone shared an example of a parent’s co-worker losing their job because they played video games instead of working) they realized the opposite is of course also true: a kid could choose to be responsible and make rational decisions just like an adult.  Another learner excitedly joined in to share that they could be trusted to set the timer, meet their goals, and hold each other accountable, just like an adult. The energy grew electric as each learner agreed and expressed enthusiasm that they trusted each other and themselves. Suddenly someone proposed that the guide (me) was not needed. I was asked to leave in an explosion of enthusiasm and energy (the look of satisfaction on my own son’s face in particular will stick with me for years to come). Before I took my laptop and my water and was exiled to the lobby, I asked what promises they were going to uphold in my absence. They pledged to each other to stay focused, strive towards the individual goals they set for the day, and to be kind and helpful to each other.  The foundation of this school was to trust the learners and to give them more ownership over their learning and suddenly the studio had a clear vision of how that could be executed. Now I am sitting in the lobby, listening to a studio that is as quiet and focused as I have ever heard it. An occasional learner has ventured out to the water fountain or the restroom and I cannot help but ask, “How is it going in there?” I have only been met with thumbs up and smiles. 

All year we have asked these learners to stretch themselves, get out of their comfort zones, and strive towards excellence. Now they are asking the same of me and I must admit it is much harder than I imagined, sitting out here and trusting without being able to see every second. At the same time it is quite the wave of relief, anxiety, uncertainty, and peace I am feeling, all at once.  A small part of me wants to say that all of my hard work has paid off but that would imply that I had a major part in bringing them to this point, that all the time I spent worrying was a worthy investment of my mental space. They brought themselves here. They fought all year to shake off the limits and expectations imposed on them by adults and authority figures over their lives. They grappled with the conflict of holding a peer accountable and potentially upsetting a friend. They invented rules for their studio, tested them in action, and voted them in or out. They faced the natural consequences of presenting a speech to a group of people when they were under prepared. I want to convey how proud I am of them and how hard they have worked to get here but I do not think it is possible. I am in a unique position, incredibly blessed (and uniquely stressed) to have a front row seat that no one else has had. They have allowed me to observe this journey they have been on and it has been an incredibly wild ride.

As I am sitting in the lobby a parent interested in the school arrives for an initial tour. Immediately I started panicking, what is she going to think when she realizes I am sitting out here and all the seven to ten year olds are “unsupervised” in the studio? Will she think I am being lazy? Neglectful? It turns out I did not need to worry, as she takes her tour she seems impressed with the studio. Our head of school summarizes the events that lead to my respectful exile and the learners' actions say more about the school than any of us adults could ever try to explain. Having read many accounts just like this one, I can say nothing is more convincing than actually seeing it in action. I am glad this parent selected this particular day for a tour and I hope one day I can hear her tell the story from her point of view. 

Three hours into my exile, it was time for lunch and time for me to guide the studio in some self-evaluation. I asked them to reflect on the morning work time. They were so excited to share that everyone had something to say, unprompted- an infrequent occurrence. The consensus was unanimous, it was a victory and they were happy with how the morning went. “How do you know it went well?” I pushed, “Give me specifics.” I was offered examples such as: I made progress on my goals, we worked together well, I moved to a quieter room to stay on task, and after I got distracted I refocused. “Could it have gone better?” I pressed and was again met with unanimous nods. The learners know from many previous discussions that the conversation cannot end there. Before I could even ask, “How?” the group started making suggestions. They offered the same ideas I would have suggested to them: we could use quieter voices for group work, I could have asked him nicely to quiet down, and next time I will choose a less distracting place to work. Unsurprisingly no one suggested an adult come back in and remind them what they needed to do. As I looked over what they had accomplished academically during my banishment I realized it was much less important today. One learner did a little less math than on past days and another did not accomplish her reading goal for the day. We are not going to have a reflection on that today. The math will get done and the books will be read and those things are important, however equally if not more important are these skills the learners practiced, stretched, and self-evaluated today: self pacing, working through distractions, navigating the perils of working in a group environment, and honestly reflecting on their own performance with a critical eye. Learning to be is not given the weight it deserves in much of the educational world and its contribution to all other aspects of life cannot be understated.

 I remember as an elementary student when my teacher would step out of the classroom. Chaos ensued. Paper wads were thrown, spit balls were launched, teasing insults were lobbied, and a scramble was made to return to our seats before the authority figure reappeared. Not the way adults typically act when their boss or supervisor leaves the room. What if we continue to expect more from our kids? What if our expectations are not for kids but for people? I estimate they will continue to surprise us and rise to the challenge, maybe not as quickly as adults and maybe not without a little more scaffolding to help them get there, but I believe they can do it. I also believe the earlier we start, the easier it will be. Learning good habits in the first place is infinitely easier than unlearning bad ones. 

While I know that at some point in the next few weeks I will walk into a studio in momentary chaos, it is going to be a little easier to remind myself to trust these learners to bring themselves back. Afterall, who has never walked into their office at some point to co-workers talking about the latest movie or sharing photos of their new puppy? I am still arguably the most skilled at taping up torn books with precision and unclogging the hot glue gun so hopefully they will see value in keeping me around for the foreseeable future.