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Twenty Year Celebration!

On Saturday, June 9th, we celebrated twenty years of Fairhaven School. In addition to joining our annual Capture the Flag game, about two hundred current students, alumni, founders, and friends of the school visited, shared stories, played music, ate brick oven pizza, and dug up the time capsule we buried in 1998. Founder and staff member Mark McCaig shared these remarks in the backyard at the time capsule ceremony.


It’s About Time

How do you mark twenty years? We’ve been open about 3,780 days for 30,240 hours. We have 79 graduates. JC has adjudicated approximately 24,074 cases. School Meeting has met about 800 times.


In the summer of 1998, approximately 200 people, almost all volunteers, contributed time, money, muscle, and grit to build the Old Building. It was, as they say, a labor of love. On September 23, 1998, we opened for business, and students immediately started managing their own time here. And so it began. I often boil down the Fairhaven experience, the Fairhaven magic, if you will, to the following: students here have the gift of time. Time to play, time to talk, time to think, time to fail, time to succeed, time to grow, time to change, time to learn, time to forget, time to hide, time to seek, time to jam, time to drum, time to sing, time to swing, time to survive, time to game, time to curse, time to pray, time to Youtube, time to vote, time to plead, time to believe, time to doubt, time to draw, time to read, time to graduate, time to celebrate, time to write, time to add, time to subtract, time to love, and yes, time to hate, time to kickball, time to ultimate, time to infection, time to pretend, time to create, time to explore, time to munchkin, time to cook, time to argue, time to agree, time to hug, time to roughhouse, time to exist peaceably, time to ball, time to skate, time to act, time to improv, time to run, time to foodrun, time to snap, time to insta, time to climb, time to stumble, time to parkour, time to dance, time to clean (occasionally), time to cry, time to laugh, time to give thanks, and finally, just maybe, today we need a new verb: time to fairhaven.

Two more numbers I’d like to share: 1 mastodon tooth found in the stream. And my personal favorite: 10 alumni who have worked here so far. I love this number best because one day, I’ll be gone, and, along with my remarkable colleagues, these alumni will continue the work. They will keep pushing this boulder up the hill, they will fairhaven this place into the next twenty years.

–Mark McCaig 

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A Trip to the Stream – An Intern’s Tale


Fairy Stream by Kathrine Egeberg

Although I can’t believe it now, looking out at all this rain, a couple of days ago the weather was very hot and humid. One of the younger girls invited me to go to the stream with her, so we walked together down the winding, forest stairs. The leaves on the trees are now toughened up, and the sun is almost completely covered, except for the occasional diamond of light shining down. She got in the water, I stayed on the shore. She found fossils, I looked for them. Eventually, she asked me whether I was too afraid to go into the water, since I had hurt myself a month earlier in the stream. I told her that I wasn’t afraid, I just didn’t feel like it. Then I realized how silly I sounded, and every other time I had gone in the stream it had been a nice experience. So, I took off my shoes and socks, feeling the dirt beneath my feet. She took my hand, and we walked down the small staircase made of dirt and tree roots. The tree roots acted as hand holds in our descent into the water. The stream bed was both hard jagged rocks and soft with algae. It flowed quickly over my feet, instantly cooling them and giving me relief from the heat of the day.

We wandered about, and she told me they used to make fairy houses here with a previous staff member. She said that she didn’t necessarily believe that fairies were real, however, she had enjoyed making the houses. Then she showed me how to make the perfect mud and dirt mixture, so we could build the optimal home for the fairies. We started to work making the mud bricks. She would place them in her design. We made a doorway of sticks, so the fairies would have a place to go in and out. The floor was made with mud from the water, but then we had to make it solid by sprinkling dirt on it. In the beginning, I was asking her what she wanted to do in every step of the construction. At one point she stopped me and asked, “What do you think? I want your ideas as well!” The four walls rose from the sand bed, the mud sinking and creating a triangle shape to the walls. She put in rooms and furnished them with chairs and table, beds for the fairies to sleep in. There were three fairies that lived here, she proclaimed: a mother, a father and a child fairy. She made sure the fairies’ beds were soft with mud from the stream, and she carefully placed vibrant beech leaves for their bedcovers. For the roof we decided on grasses, sticks and leaves as our building material. We laid the sticks across and piled the leaves over, thereby creating a shady home for our fairy friends. I hope they are enjoying their home, especially now that the rain is pouring down. I hope that the mother and father tuck in the child at night, and I can’t help but wonder whether they get a visit from the tooth fairy in the fairy woods.
–Kathrine Egeberg

(Kathrine is Fairhaven School’s wonderful Danish intern. She is a student of education who wants to start a Sudbury school in Denmark one day. Kathrine is leaving soon, but this post shows you why we will miss her so much.)

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How do Sudbury Schools work: Why Not Offer Classes?

Fairhaven students playing “ninja” on the porch.

In the course of browsing content for our new website, we discovered on the Philly Free School’s site this article from our colleagues at Clearwater School. Since before we opened the school in 1998, people have been asking about classes, and they still do. The exchange below still applies.



by Amanda Klein, Shawna Lee, Stephanie Sarantos, and Nora Wheat

Reprinted from the April 2004 issue of The School Bull, the newsletter of The Clearwater School.

Amanda Klein (parent):

The biggest question that has been cropping up when I do informal PR about Clearwater with people, including my family members, who are fundamentally very sympathetic to many aspects of the Sudbury model, is: What exactly is wrong with adults offering optional “educational” activities to kids? An example would be the Summerhill-type model: “here are some classes on this, this, and this — come all the time, come sometimes, or don’t ever come if you don’t feel like it.”

I know I have heard staff members address this, but I’m still not fully clear on the thinking – and perhaps not always comfortable with this aspect of the model. My understanding is that offering something to a kid can have an element of coercion or condescension – even if it is just a suggestion and totally optional.

Stephanie Sarantos (staff member):

Class offerings distract from the purpose of education at Clearwater. That purpose is bare bones, stark and difficult: take responsibility for your life. If you want a class, ask. Staff will respond. The asking can be a direct request for a specific class, or a whisper of an idea about an interest. Staff may assist by teaching, helping find a teacher, or helping define a vague idea into a tangible plan. The important focus is that ultimately, students are in charge of figuring out what they are interested in and how they want to spend their time.

Offering a slate of classes can convey an official sanctioning of the importance of one activity over another. We do not believe in core subjects versus elective subjects. We do not see some subjects as essential and others as enrichment. And, we do not believe that classes provide a better or more meaningful way to learn than playing, talking, reading, and thinking.

Classes happen at Clearwater when they are the best method for gaining the particular information being sought. When there are faster, more efficient or more fun ways of learning something, classes don’t happen.

The longer I am here and the more classes I participate in at Clearwater, the less value I place on classes. They offer an efficient way to teach, but usually an inefficient way to learn. Certain subjects like dance or languages (or at times, writing) require interaction with others, and classes are good for that. When kids want to learn something quickly, individual effort – with help if needed – often works much better.

I also think that many things that happen at Clearwater – getting along with friends, mediation and Judicial Committee, School Meeting, clean up, understanding people whose behavior can be challenging, discussing world events – could be considered classes. These activities involve group interaction, learning skills practice and evaluation. It is important to realize that in other settings, classes are created to address these very subjects that are part of daily life here.

The most important part of my answer though is to return to where I started. The most lasting, useful and meaningful education is not about content knowledge, but about self-knowledge and responsibility. Kids at Clearwater learn that if they want a good life, they need to create a good life.

Shawna Lee (staff member):

My immediate, blunt response to “Why not just offer some educational activities that are totally optional?” is: “What’s the point?”

Who’s to decide what’s “educational”? Why is what students choose to do all day every day any less educational than some activity I, as a staff member, could offer? Or maybe that’s not the question. Maybe it’s really an exposure question. “How will kids be exposed to everything that’s ‘important’ if adults don’t present them with ‘educational’ activities?”

At Clearwater, by the time a student reaches the age of ten or twelve, her/ his working knowledge of the everyday world rivals that of most adults. I’m talking about the basics of reading, writing and arithmetic, but also politics, art, culture, history, etc. I’ve been astonished more than once at the breadth of general knowledge that kids, my own included, have acquired by that age. Moreover, students that age and older have developed (and continue to develop) specialized knowledge that exceeds that of most adults, unless those adults have skill in that specialty. And they obtain it without me or anyone else needing to offer “educational” activities, just in case.

Many adults worry that children may not discover what turns out to be a lifelong passion or miss some essential piece of knowledge, unless adults offer educational content to the child. The possibility that either will happen is remote for several reasons. First, each person has the potential for an infinite number of passions and there’s no way to predict what will spark any particular passion. Second, the child’s interests will lead unerringly to at least one and undoubtedly more of those passions.

Third, educational content is so unimportant in the totality of a person’s life because it is so easily gotten at any time by anyone who is motivated to get it. People will find what they want when it’s important to them. What is important is that a person knows her/himself intimately and believes s/he is capable of working hard and learning what s/he needs to succeed, however s/he defines success.

Another thing I’ve discovered at Clearwater is that the means I choose to convey or teach “educational” content is probably a lot less efficient and effective than allowing students to discover and learn the content themselves in their own way and time. Students choose classes at Clearwater to see what that experience is like, or because they’ve decided it’s an efficient way to learn a particular thing at their level of knowledge. But they rarely choose pre-made “educational” experiences because conversation and play, independent, experiential learning, and unscripted, spontaneous discovery are just so delightful and life-affirming.

The last argument against offering optional educational activities is that students who come from traditional school backgrounds may perceive these activities as more “important” than talking and playing, because the activities are offered by adults and look more like what they’ve been conditioned to believe is “education.” They may sign up for these because they don’t yet believe that they are capable of deciding how they should spend their time. By offering activities we are undercutting our own goal, which is to provide an environment where children grow into free, capable, self-aware, responsible adults.

So I am left with the assurance that my time is much better spent being a part of students’ lives in whatever way they want to include me, whether it’s chatting, playing, fixing lunch, tying shoes or occasionally engaging in activities that look like school.

Amanda Klein:

This makes sense to me, but it kind of goes in and out of focus. I will say that what you two are saying is, in my mind, perhaps the most radical thing about Clearwater. I appreciate what Shawna is saying about the content the students absorb – but really you are saying that content isn’t important. I agree, but boy, can that be a hard sell.

The funny thing is, I went to St. John’s College, where we studied a “canon,” but at the same time as the school emphasized learning these crucial pieces of Western thought, it told us that the content could really be anything – it was learning analysis and discourse that was crucial – learning to learn.

Stephanie Sarantos:

I don’t think it is as straightforward as “content is not important.” It is more an adamant statement that universal content is not important. The content that I want to learn about and want to remember is very different than the content that my husband wants to know about – and still more different than the content that most of the other people I know are interested in.

Learning about content, gaining skills and thinking, thinking, thinking are universal human activities, drives and desires. The difference is that we do not impose a set of content and expect kids to enjoy it, benefit from it or learn it. This freedom we grant to adults more readily in our age of mass information, but we do not easily give this level of autonomy to kids.

There is an irony to what I said in the last paragraph, because there are some universal areas of content that everyone needs. The kids at Clearwater learn these “things” quickly, efficiently and matter-of-factly. In addition (as Shawna pointed out), the depth and breadth of content knowledge among Clearwater students, who don’t take classes, is readily apparent through casual conversations – let alone heated discussions – with our ten-year-old students.

So this is where the trust comes in. We trust that kids and adults will master essential content because they want to be successful, literate members of society. I find it instructive to observe the areas of content the students learn about and know well; these areas of expertise, knowledge and trivia are the “essential subjects” of our culture.

Nora Wheat (staff member):

Honestly, I too sometimes flirt with Amanda’s question. This is my fourth year at Clearwater and I’ve seen very few classes. I could be concerned as I wonder about all the missed opportunities – great classes with catchy titles and inspiring field trips – “The Geography of Seattle Beaches” or some such thing. I often interact with teachers, students and families who participate in schools where this romantic curriculum is the strength of the school. This is appealing: I think it would be great if my kids knew about the spawning cycles of salmon. I would be excited it they built props for shadow puppet performances. I want the world for them and for all of our children. They would be guaranteed exposure to fabulous artistic and academic content in any number of local progressive/alternative schools. As much as I’m attracted to this ideal of a well-rounded, cross-cultural, experiential, program, I know that these well-intentioned programs require a great deal of student manipulation on the part of the teacher, and still don’t meet their stated goals. In my observation, they are controlling, dishonest and ultimately damaging to a child’s sense of self.

The way I see it, classes make school life easy. They imply that teachers have to be prepared for only a limited number of topics, and that these are the topics about which students should be curious. They require prep time along a specific line that may or may not be of interest to students, while limiting time that might otherwise go towards building relationships or supporting student-initiated activities. I know that with “optional” classes, it may seem that a balance could be struck – but I’m not so confident in that. Once a class is scheduled, staff and students enter it prepared for this topic. Even if one student’s stray curiosity could be relevant or useful to the class, it’s hard to be flexible when others have taken the class expecting this content. Of course in regular schools, high-stakes testing plays into this drive to stay on task – but even in alternative models (like Summerhill) classes predetermine content, even if student interest shifts midcourse. At this point, a student with “freedom” would likely drop the class. All this may be fine, except that in an environment where classes are the sanctioned means to knowledge, the student may have less experience and support in pursuing that content on her own – and may instead wait for a class to be offered.

In the same way that classes make a teacher’s job “easy,” they make the task of being a student even easier. In a supportive environment, learning may be challenging, but is not difficult. Choosing what to learn is excruciating. It is this torture that most often leads me to consider the merit of offering classes. Give them something to soothe the pain: a class so they don’t have to think or plan or choose for themselves. In this way, I see having a schedule of optional classes as escape from the real work of being a student at Clearwater – discovering oneself: strengths, weaknesses, interests, abilities…

A final (for the moment) concern I have about a standing class schedule has to do with the way content becomes identity for students. In the larger world, adults identify and evaluate children by what they study at school and the grade they are in. Too often, I have seen children begin to claim these incomplete and confining snapshots as their own identities. This too is an easy out, eliminating any need to examine oneself and what personal information to share in building a relationship. It also leaves the student who chooses not to attend classes with no allies in explaining to the larger world that their school and learning experience is not dictated by classes. (For example: “What classes are you taking at school?” “Well, astronomy, geometry and Haiku poetry are being offered – but I’m not taking them.”)

I know that I haven’t even touched on the depth of content that Clearwater students do acquire – all the “fabulous” artistic, academic and physical activities they encounter and engage in, both in and out of school.

Amanda Klein:

Thanks for your great responses. It never ceases to amaze me how wholeheartedly and thoughtfully you all engage with these complex issues – the combination of your confidence in the model and the fact that you are so clearly in a constant state of observing it, questioning it, and learning from it inspires great confidence in me. This combination of trust and exploration that you model is one of the delights of being a part of this community, as is the satisfaction and growth I observe in my son.


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Sudbury school vs Public school: Parkland

Making videos at Fairhaven School.

The recent high school shooting in Parkland, Florida has inspired some of the affected students to mobilize for change. I have watched with much interest as both politicians, the public and the media try to respond to the reality of young people speaking their minds about something that matters deeply to them. The responses have ranged from fawning (“Look how smart they are!”) to mocking (“Look at that hair!”) to absurd (“They’re paid actors!”) As is often true, how people respond to youth speaking up for themselves might reveal more about the adults than the now famous teens. For me, when I watch these students advocating for change, I observe through the lens of Fairhaven School. Several topics seem relevant:

Civic Engagement

The Parkland students are exercising their rights to free speech and assembly, one of the many freedoms students at Fairhaven School enjoy daily, whether in the basic liberty of the school environment, in the daily Judicial Committee (JC) or in the weekly School Meeting. In JC, our students adjudicate all allegations of rule-breaking by investigating, charging and sentencing. In School Meeting, students and staff discuss and vote on all school rules, fiscal decisions, and hiring of staff. In sum, Fairhaven School’s students speak their minds and, crucially, vote about things that matter deeply to them every day.

Public Speaking

Yes, many of the advocates are excellent public speakers. Fairhaven students hone these skills every day, both in the formal meetings discussed above (JC and School Meeting) and in less formal committees and corporations. Examples include the Music Corporation, the Electronics Corporation, and the Public Relations Committee. Aside from these meetings, however, Fairhaven and all Sudbury schools feature endless conversations, ranging from imaginative play to discussions about life to responding to current events like the school shootings. A Sudbury school is a communication paradise, and, above all, Fairhaven School graduates people who can communicate with people of all ages, from five-year-olds to eighty-five-year-olds. When they speak, our students tend to be both insightful and genuine.


The Parkland students come across as courageous in a public, challenging situation. Because of the respectful, constant talking at Fairahven School, our students are also not intimidated by new situations, including getting themselves into college, interviewing for a job, and pursuing arts and sports activities with passion. Our students interview very well, and they tend to approach new people, whether adults or children, with an attitude comparatively unfettered by intimidation or fear.


One reason for our students’ success in these new situations seems to be the sincerity with which they approach people. This ongoing, straightforward attitude among Fairhaven students puts the lie to the prevailing biases against young people and teenagers in particular. For twenty years, we have seen that treating people with respect makes them respectful and thereby prepares them for success when they leave.

Walking out of School

Finally, I was sitting and talking with some of our older students on the day many students walked out of schools nationwide at 10:17 to memorialize the students who died and to advocate for change. Of course, the moment’s tension came from the defiance of school rules and authority. How would school administrators and teachers respond? Would the students be punished? At Fairhaven, the students discussed walking out for a while, but the absence of arbitrary control of their time removed all of the drama and appeal from the gesture. In an environment where each student controls his or her schedule and destiny, what would be the point? 10:17 came and went, and the students reasonably went about their business, continuing their remarkable, sincere, fearless process of taking charge of their lives.

In the end, we applaud the Parkland students for their engagement. Nevertheless, we humbly suggest that this experience represents the tip of the iceberg of what students in America can do, if only schools and adults would see them as people and grant them all of the rights and responsibilities they deserve.

–Mark McCaig



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Free-Range Parenting Redux

Exploring the woods at Fairhaven School. En garde!

In the news recently, Utah state legislators passed a “free-range parenting” bill. Here’s an excerpt from the story in the Washington Post:

The measure, sponsored by Utah state Sen. Lincoln Fillmore (R), exempts from the definition of child neglect various activities children can do without supervision, permitting “a child, whose basic needs are met and who is of sufficient age and maturity to avoid harm or unreasonable risk of harm, to engage in independent activities …”

Those activities include letting children “walk, run or bike to and from school, travel to commercial or recreational facilities, play outside and remain at home unattended.” The law does not say what the “sufficient age” is.

Read the entire article here. While we do not advocate political positions as a school, we applaud any cultural movement towards giving children more responsibility! We wrote about a local “free-range parenting” kerfuffle in this space in 2015 in a post called “Fostering Independence.”

As the years go by, and we see more and more Fairhaven students and alumni embrace independence and responsibility as society takes baby steps in our direction, our bottom line remains the same:

“Here at Fairhaven School, as the cultural debate continues, we will continue to provide a safe, lively place where young people dictate the terms of their own lives, day in and day out. They take risks, they discover limits, and they explore both the outer world and their inner selves. The process is transformative, difficult, and liberating, and we think it is precisely what life should include.”

Mark McCaig




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The Art Room, Sudbury Style

A Day in the Art Room – An Intern’s Tale

(Kathrine Egeberg is Fairhaven School’s wonderful Danish intern. She is a student of education who wants to start a Sudbury school in Denmark one day.)

Rarely is the Art Room empty, and today is no exception. The room floods with natural light in soft yellow tones, and outside I see grand beech trees standing tall, deeply rooted in the still cold earth. Occasionally, from my elevated position, a kid hurries by outside, running from the cold. In such situations, I can only be glad to be in such a tropical setting! Although they are not always supposed to be, the tables are filled with papers, cardboard and so many scraps you wouldn’t believe it possible. Students look onto their projects with a wrinkle between their eyes, so focused on this thing that for a moment, it is their entire world. The same can be said for adults, I might add. Every little action has a purpose.

Today, I have the pleasure of spending some time in this hub of creativity. As often happens when I step into the room, a small girl calls out, “Kaaathrine!” as though I was just the person she had been looking for the entire day. This is promptly followed by another question: “Can I paint?” Soon, the echo spreads through the entire room. (Side note: Often the smaller children aren’t certified for acrylic paints and can only use them when a staff member is present. The paintbrushes are very happy about this arrangement.)

“Sure, you can paint,” I say, which starts a mad dash to the paint in the revolving rack, everybody trying to get the perfect colors. I go for the watercolors, preferring not to just sit and stare at my young friends. Inevitably, a little girl joins me in this endeavor, so we share our paint and water.

On the other side of the room, a couple of boys are working on their new weapon designs. These are carefully and artfully crafted from cardboard. Their trusty sidekick is the hot glue gun, its molten goo slowly turning from clear to a cloudy white, always ready to do its magic. For a person who likes to sew, I am surprised when the magic even works on fabric for their camouflage outfits. One boy is working on a tommy-gun, another on a mask made from at least forty black paper strips. The strips have been carefully made to build a 3d structure surrounding his face. Almost finished, he is working on the nose, which is a bit too small for him at the present, still nothing a pair of scissors and hot glue can’t fix.

Although their art doesn’t always come out as they might have intended, the students adapt, shaping it into something amazing. Craftiness is a valuable skill, because often their canvas and tools are everyday items we all discard into our trashcans without thinking twice. The transformation is quite wonderful to behold! Chopsticks turn into magical wands which cast dangerous spells, bamboo sticks turn into fencing swords to stir up trouble, and scrap fabric turns into cats for dolls and parents.

One girl comes over to me with a homemade card. “Can you write ‘Happy Birthday, Olivia’ on this?” she asks, so I do. She then explains to me that it will be her doll’s birthday tomorrow, and she needs a birthday card. Painstakingly, she traces the letters with her paintbrush and makes hearts. Another girl is constructing a computer. Its components are mostly cardboard decorated with paint and paper shapes. She also has the sensibility to provide the computer with bottles of medicine for when the computer contracts viruses. As often happens here, duty suddenly calls elsewhere: I am needed for rehearsals for the play, so I leave the tropical, creative hub for the moment, knowing I will find more of the same quietly remarkable activity whenever I return.

–Kathrine Egeberg

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Misuse of Kitchen Equipment & Other Tales from the Early 2000s

Click here to check out our first audiobook chapter from our upcoming book of interviews with alumni. This chapter was read by current Fairhaven student, Nora Holmes.

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Shoeless at Fairhaven


  “Play’s awesome. If you’re not going to play when you’re young, when can you?” Cormac Finn, 2015 alumnus.

Yesterday, the termite man came to inspect the school. He walked around the buildings with our building clerk, checked the corners of the rooms inside, looking everywhere, as he is trained to do, to notice the unusual. At the end of the visit, he came to the office to sign out. He had indeed found something he thought was unusual: “There are two kids running around outside with their shoes off.”

“Yes, we are aware,” the Office Manager Miranda kindly replied, smiling.

“It’s a little damp outside on the ground,” he continued.

“Yes, it is,” Miranda said.

“It’s also a little cold,” he added a little surprised.

“Yes, we know. Students here are allowed to go barefoot,” she ventured a brief explanation, well-versed in the familiar line of questions regarding the nuances of Fairhaven.

He told us we are free of termites, laughed a little and left. We aren’t sure what he was thinking about our school. Did he believe that going barefoot was unhealthy or dangerous? Was he simply curious? I would take a bet, though, that he had his own memories of going barefoot as a child, and that they were pretty good ones.

If I hadn’t had the opportunity to work at Fairhaven for these past twenty years, I wouldn’t have been able to gather my own evidence on the value of going barefoot in childhood. How do I know going barefoot makes kids happy? Because I find their shoes! I find them inside and outside, muddy and wet, under a table, one here, one there. The shoes speak for themselves:


Other campus visitors (carpenters, water testers, delivery people) have asked questions about Fairhaven. Our answers can open up a whole new world for anyone new to the Sudbury philosophy of education. One question usually leads to another, and before you know it, you’re talking not just about the opportunity to cast shoes aside and run through the field barefoot, but everything else Fairhaven is about: twelve acres of woods and stream, two buildings of inviting space, the absence of grades, the abundance of trust. It’s not that everyone goes barefoot, it’s that young people get to choose whether or not they want to be barefoot. They choose whether or not to attend School Meeting to vote on a new rule, and they choose when they want to play a game, read a book, or talk to a friend for hours on end.

The same day the termite inspector visited our campus, it was a little chilly outside, like he said, but also sunny, and it felt like spring was saying hello. I think the students sensed this. Kids scampered about outside on the field, rode skateboards, played basketball. Some wore shoes, others didn’t. Happy…and free to be shoeless.

Kim McCaig

Staff Member

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Fairhaven School’s first podcast!

Check out Fairhaven’s first podcast, recorded in our new music room: An interview with Hanna Greenberg, founder of Sudbury Valley School (now celebrating its 50th year), and four of our current students: 

Hanna and Mark with students in the music studio

Fairhaven staff member Mark McCaig asked Hanna what it feels like to visit other Sudbury schools:

“It works everywhere. You can go to any Sudbury school–in Japan, or in the south of the United States, or Massachusetts, or here, and the feel of the place is the same. The details vary, the culture varies, it doesn’t matter. The essence is the same. And that’s a fantastic reinforcement…”

Feel free to share, and thanks for listening!


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The Art of Doing Nothing

Here is an article from Sudbury Valley School founder Hanna Greenberg, who will be speaking at Fairhaven School on Thursday, November 16th at 7:00. The article is the property of the Sudbury Valley School press. See below for complete attribution.

The Art of Doing Nothing

“Where do you work?”

“At Sudbury Valley School.”

“What do you do?”


Doing nothing at Sudbury Valley requires a great deal of energy and discipline, and many years of experience. I get better at it every year, and it amuses me to see how I and others struggle with the inner conflict that arises in us inevitably. The conflict is between wanting to do things for people, to impart your knowledge and to pass on your hard earned wisdom, and the realization that the children have to do their learning under their own steam and at their own pace. Their use of us is dictated by their wishes, not ours. We have to be there when asked, not when we decide we should be.

Teaching, inspiring, and giving advice are all natural activities that adults of all cultures and places seem to engage in around children. Without these activities, each generation would have to invent everything anew, from the wheel to the ten commandments, metal working to farming. Man passes knowledge to the young from generation to generation, at home, in the community, at the workplace and supposedly at school. Unfortunately, the more today’s schools endeavor to give individual students guidance, the more they harm the children. This statement requires explanation, since it seems to contradict what I have just said, namely, that adults always help children learn how to enter the world and become useful in it. What I have learned, very slowly and painfully over the years, is that children make vital decisions for themselves in ways that no adults could have anticipated or even imagined.

Consider the simple fact that at SVS, many students have decided to tackle algebra not because they need to know it, or even find it interesting, but because it is hard for them, it’s boring, and they are bad at it. They need to overcome their fear, their feeling of inadequacy, their lack of discipline. Time and again, students who have made this decision achieve their stated goal and take a huge step in building their egos, their confidence, and their character. So why does this not happen when all children are required or encouraged to take algebra in high school? The answer is simple. To overcome a psychological hurdle one has to be ready to make a personal commitment. Such a state of mind is reached only after intense contemplation and self analysis, and cannot be prescribed by others, nor can it be created for a group. In every case it is an individual struggle, and when it succeeds it is an individual triumph. Teachers can only help when asked, and their contribution to the process is slight compared to the work that the student does.

The case of algebra is easy to grasp but not quite as revealing as two examples that came to light at recent thesis defenses. One person to whom I have been very close, and whom I could easily have deluded myself into thinking that I had “guided” truly shocked me when, contrary to my “wisdom,” she found it more useful to use her time at school to concentrate on socializing and organizing dances than to hone the writing skills that she would need for her chosen career as a journalist. It would not have occurred to any of the adults involved with this particular student’s education to advise or suggest the course of action that she wisely charted for herself, guided only by inner knowledge and instinct. She had problems which first she realized and then she proceeded to solve in creative and personal ways. By dealing with people directly rather than observing them from the sidelines, she learned more about them and consequently achieved greater depth and insights, which in turn led to improved writing. Would writing exercises in English class have achieved that better for her? I doubt it.

Or what about the person who loved to read, and lost that love after a while at SVS? For a long time she felt that she had lost her ambition, her intellect, and her love of learning because all she did was play outdoors. After many years she realized that she had buried herself in books as an escape from facing the outside world. Only after she was able to overcome her social problems, and only after she learned to enjoy the outdoors and physical activities, did she return to her beloved books. Now they are not an escape, but a window to knowledge and new experience. Would I or any other teacher have known how to guide her as wisely as she had guided herself? I don’t think so.

As I was writing this another example from many years ago came to mind. It illustrates how the usual sort of positive encouragement and enrichment can be counterproductive and highly limiting. The student in question was obviously intelligent, diligent and studious. Early on, any test would have shown he had a marked talent in mathematics. What he actually did for most of his ten years at SVS was play sports, read literature, and later in his teens, play classical music on the piano. He studied algebra mostly on his own but seemed to have devoted only a little of his time to mathematics. Now, at the age of twenty-four, he is a graduate student in abstract mathematics and doing extremely well at one of the finest universities. I shudder to think what would have happened to him had we “helped” him during his years here to accumulate more knowledge of math, at the expense of the activities he chose to prefer. Would he have had the inner strength, as a little boy, to withstand our praise and flattery and stick to his guns and read books, fool around with sports, and play music? Or would he have opted for being an “excellent student” in math and science and grown up with his quest for knowledge in other fields unfulfilled? Or would he have tried to do it all? And at what cost?

As a counterpoint to the previous example I would like to cite another case which illustrates yet another aspect of our approach. A few years ago a teenage girl who had been a student at SVS since she was five told me quite angrily that she had wasted two years and learned nothing. I did not agree with her assessment of herself, but I did not feel like arguing with her, so I just said, “If you learned how bad it is to waste time, why then you could not have learned a better lesson so early in life, a lesson that will be of value for the rest of your days.” That reply calmed her, and I believe it is a good illustration of the value of allowing young people to make mistakes and learn from them, rather than directing their lives in an effort to avoid mistakes.

Why not let each person make their own decisions about their use of their own time? This would increase the likelihood of people growing up fulfilling their own unique educational needs without being confused by us adults who could never know enough or be wise enough to advise them properly.

So I am teaching myself to do nothing, and the more I am able to do it, the better is my work. Please don’t draw the conclusion that the staff is superfluous. You might say to yourself that the children almost run the school themselves, so why have so many staff, just to sit around and do nothing. The truth is that the school and the students need us. We are there to watch and nurture the school as an institution and the students as individuals.

The process of self direction, or blazing your own way, indeed of living your life rather than passing your time, is natural but not self evident to children growing up in our civilization. To reach that state of mind they need an environment that is like a family, on a larger scale than the nuclear family, but nonetheless supportive and safe. The staff, by being attentive and caring and at the same time not directive and coercive, gives the children the courage and the impetus to listen to their own inner selves. They know that we are competent as any adult to guide them, but our refusal to do so is a pedagogical tool actively used to teach them to listen only to themselves and not to others who, at best, know only half the facts about them.

Our abstaining from telling students what to do is not perceived by them as a lack of something, an emptiness. Rather it is the impetus for them to forge their own way not under our guidance but under our caring and supportive concern. For it takes work and courage to do what they do for and by themselves. It cannot be done in a vacuum of isolation, but thrives in a vital and complex community which the staff stabilizes and perpetuates.

The preceding is from the book “The Sudbury Valley School Experience”, Edited by Mimsy Sadofsky and Daniel Greenberg.  The author of the article is Hanna Greenberg.  The book can be purchased at the Sudbury Valley School Press online store at:


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