by Gene E. Gary-Williams, Ph.D.

I freely admit that my first encounter with Fairhaven came as a result of panic and prayer. My grandson, who was 8 years old at the time, had provided early and consistent indication that traditional schooling was not for him. Further, it appeared that if the adults in his life insisted on pursuing this line then we all were in for a rocky and rough path with uncertain and maybe disastrous results. He had been exposed to Montessori, traditional private schooling and home schooling – nothing worked in the manner to which most of us is accustomed. Making all of this the more frustrating was the observation that he is incredibly bright, intellectually gifted and possessing a phenomenal memory.

One day in the spring of 2005, I came across an article in The Washington Post that appeared above the fold, on the right hand side of the A section – hard to miss and strategically placed. Upon completing the article, I gave it to my daughter to read and stated that we needed to find Fairhaven, that very day!! We all got dressed for a visit – my daughter, my grandson, his twin sister, and I. We were greatly surprised and pleased to find that the school was about 15 minutes from our home!!! Upon being graciously received for our impromptu visit, taken on a tour and given a brief overview of the school, we were scheduled for an official visit. In the meantime, my grandson had declared, from this brief encounter, that this was a school that he liked; instant identification with the environment.

The long and short is that after the official visit, he spent a week to get the feel of the place and my daughter enrolled him for the upcoming school year.

He will begin his fourth year in this academic year, 2009-2010. In the meantime his sister who is a completely different learner joined him last academic year and she has positively thrived – much to my surprise.

So, why am I surprised? To begin, I am a traditional academic, having taught in higher education environments and served as an administrator in these same areas. My orientation is in traditional schooling, where I excelled as a learner. As an academic I have an awareness of non-traditional modes of educating, but had never explored these before some cursory looks at Montessori. NOTE: When attempting to introduce other traditionalists to the Sudbury concept, I frequently refer to Sudbury as Montessori Very Lite!!

I was not sold on Sudbury in the beginning, I just knew that for the mental health of the family, it was at least a respite; maybe until we could figure something else out OR find some other, more familiar, form of educating that may answer my grandson’s needs.

At this juncture, I have a number of observations that have contributed to my continuing conversion and that have affirmed the importance of the Sudbury education model. First, listening to NPR WAMU 88.5 one day, after my grandson’s enrollment, I heard an interview with a young woman who had received a non-traditional education (not Sudbury, but home schooling to meet her needs) and who has written a book entitled Quirky Kids. She identified and interviewed young people who were educated apart from the traditional methods and wrote about their journeys. During the call-in, a parent from Florida described the hell that her family had encounter with her then 13 year old son and the finding of a school that assisted him in responding to his learning needs. As she talked, I realized that she was describing a Sudbury school and her story of her son’s development was a breakthrough moment of hope for me.

Since that time I have had moments of panic – most often when I discover that the kids do not know or understand some principle of Arithmetic/Math or some basic English language principle or how to spell a word that should be a part of their total vocabulary. The traditionalist in me takes over and I want to supplement Fairhaven with my version of ‘this is what you should know at this stage of intellectual development’. Admittedly there have been times when we have defied the advice of the staff and offered some worksheets, etc.; it only lasts for the moment and we are back to where we were. I have found that correcting English at the time is a positive way of teaching, as both children tend to remember the corrections. Math is another whole ball game and I await the awakening that I have been told will happen and the subsequent push to make up for lost time or just to learn basic facts in order to move forward to another learning experience.

Finally, I am amazed at what each of the children, especially ‘the boy’ with his remarkable memory, do know. How and where they have learned some things will probably always remain a mystery. Basically, they know what is of interest to them. This offers a personal platform for learning other things, a concept that I can oftentimes forget in the emotion of learning to accept and believe in Sudbury methodology.

Finally, when I discuss this with different people, I frequently hear that the person wishes s/he may have had this type opportunity during their developmental phase as they still have a bad taste from traditional education or they feel this type experience would have enhanced their later choices. And everyone seems to know someone who was/is ideal Sudbury method material.

As an academician I have a great desire to verify what I observe with an evidence base. I have read the studies conducted about Sudbury graduates and appreciate these. However, my grandchildren are of a generation/group of children who have spent little or no time in the traditional learning environment. I await the evidence that they, too, can develop and present a thesis paper indicating an acceptable level of mastery of the language, including writing and thinking. I look forward to Mark McCaig’s next book!!!!!

Conversion continues. I am closer today than I was three years ago and hopefully not as close as I will be in the coming years.

FairHaven is an ideal choice for the name of this school – a wonderful respite and personal developer – which, regrettably, does not happen often enough in the ‘regular’ education environment.

Gene Gary-Williams, Ph.D. is a grandmother and former health care professional and academician. She is retired and volunteers with a number of organizations, including AARP.

Bell Tower in the Fall

After sixteen years at Evergreen Sudbury School in Maine and Fairhaven School in Maryland, I retired in June. It was time to go and I have exciting plans, but leaving was hard. (And I hope to be back now and then as a sub.) I was tempted to write a thesis about how school has allowed me to prepare myself to become an effective adult, but at 65, if I’m not effective already, the chances of my making it are slim. I do know, however, that being a staff member has enriched my life beyond measure, and has made me a better and more useful person.

Getting to know and work with people like Danny, Hanna, Mimsy, and the bright, dedicated, funny staff at all the Sudbury schools, has stretched my mind and warmed my heart. The parents of our students are courageous, intelligent, and just basically outstanding, and then there are the kids—killer funny, outrageously smart, and adorable. Being surrounded by people who are dedicated to the idea that children are equally deserving of respect and freedom has been deeply satisfying, and a true learning experience.

So what have I learned at Evergreen and Fairhaven? For starters, I’ve learned that jumping enthusiastically into new projects without a lot of thought can have surprising life repercussions. I thought I could run a business and start a school on the side. That was sixteen years, a closed business, two schools, a major move, and two children graduating ago. I see jumping first/looking second as both a failure of imagination and a habit I acquired in conventional schools of always feeling rushed. Students at Sudbury schools have the time to develop their imaginations and to think things through. Because some of this has rubbed off on me, I jump into things more judiciously nowadays. But I’m everlastingly grateful for that Evergreen jump.

I’ve also learned some much-needed good habits. I pick up after myself, for example, before I move on to a new project. I learned this important lesson in my 40s at Evergreen, unlike our students, who learn it while still young. I became a professional organizer on the side five years ago because the process and aesthetics of being organized grew to interest me. Students, even the ones labeled ADD or ADHD learn (some immediately, some eventually) to use the systems set up in the art room and elsewhere, putting supplies back in their places, knowing that everything has a place. One of the pleasures of being a staff member has been the opportunity to see kids become competent, responsible members of the community.

I’ve learned that our view of our own kids isn’t the only view there is. We all think our kids are special and brilliant and couldn’t possibly do the bone-headed things other kids do. As a staff member with two kids at school, I was able to see that my kids—although, of course, brilliant and special—were among peers who were equally brilliant and special, and that my kids were just as capable of spinning tales at the dinner table about why they’d been hauled into JC through no fault of their own. And yes, even brilliant, special kids can do bone-headed things.

Working at a Sudbury school has taught me the benefits of a balanced life. As a student I was always studying; as a parent of babies, always changing diapers and playing baby games; as a graphic designer always hunched over my light table and then my computer. As a staff member I was a conversationalist, mentor, librarian, administrator, School Meeting member. And I had to remember to eat lunch. In fact, I had to remember to sit down and take a break, to jump up and bandage a knee, to play a game, to go see the skinks by the stream with enthusiastic six-year-olds. To do, in other words, what all students at Sudbury schools learn to do: create a life balancing work and play, solitude and community. Parents of gamers or bookworms or social butterflies often think that their kids do nothing all day every day but pursue their particular passion. They don’t. Readers read a lot at school, but they also, like the talkers and gamers, play outside, serve on JC, and talk endlessly with others. Shy kids learn to open up, extroverts learn to be quiet in the Quiet Room. And they all have to figure out, as do staff, how to balance their lives.

Being both a parent and a staff member has taught me that children are exquisitely attuned and vulnerable to parental feelings. Over the years I’ve made many mistakes as a parent, and even though my kids are grown, I’m sure they’d be happy to say that I’m making new ones all the time. I’ve toughened up, though. My stance now is that mistakes are inevitable, and it’s best to just be forgiving. One particular mistake, however, is important to try to avoid. As staff members, we see, over and over again, that the hardest hurdle for students are parents who show a lack of faith in the child and/or the school. Kids can deal with parents who get cranky, who forget to pick them up on time, who wring their hands about too much sugar. They can even deal with divorces and illnesses and money worries. What demoralizes them to the point of not being able to succeed at school is when their parents clearly lack faith in them or the school, and threaten them with being pulled out if they don’t do whatever academic thing the parent has decided is important. “Yes, you can be there, but you’re never going to succeed if you don’t [pick one] learn to read this year/learn math/focus on science.” Even subtle worrying can sap children’s morale. Will our students end up following a path their parents are comfortable with? Maybe, maybe not, but it will be a path they want to be on, a path they will follow with confidence—if they’ve had the whole-hearted support of their parents. As a parent I still worry about my children, but I think the routine expression of confidence and faith in them is absolutely critical.

Being at Sudbury schools has taught me patience, a virtue that has never come naturally. Watching many kids grow up over the years allows staff to take the long view. Kids can “waste” days, weeks, months of their lives playing computer games or collecting sticks in the woods, or sitting on the counters in the kitchen talking, and somehow grow into themselves—unique, irreplaceable, with all the survival skills they need to be effective adults. Growing up well isn’t testable. All the little epiphanies people aren’t even conscious of themselves, all the bits of information that add up to a whole, all the small decisions that add up to the development of a fine person—all of them are rarely visible from the outside. It’s hard to take the long view when it’s your own child and your friends are asking what her grade point average is. It’s much easier to take the long view as a staff member, who can see all the stages of growth all around us. One of the jobs of staff is to share our confidence that all will be well. Patience. Patience. Patience.

My years at Evergreen and Fairhaven deepened my respect for children. Parents are so busy taking care of their children (and worrying), that the luxury of just spending time with them as equals seldom happens. Being a staff member at Sudbury schools taught me, on a daily basis, how intelligent and interesting kids are, and how much they have to contribute. A five-year-old showed me how to peel the back off labeler tape, a trick I hadn’t figured out in years of use. A nine-year-old made a point in School Meeting that made me change my position on an important issue. A twelve-year-old shared facts about nature I had never learned in 20 years of schooling. A thirteen-year-old took photographs the equal of any professional’s. A fourteen-year-old made a witty remark that cracked me up. A sixteen-year-old had insight into another student that amazed me, and a seventeen-year-old dealt with family tragedy with a courage and resilience I tried to emulate when my mother died. Every day I shared my knowledge and experience, and every day students shared right back—their poetry, art, passion, humor, intelligence. The enormous resource we have in children is unseen in the larger culture. Only at Sudbury schools, and in some families, are young people treated with the respect all human beings deserve.

Watching students arrive, grow up, graduate, and leave, and watching other students arrive to take their places has taught me that no one can ever replace Thor or Alison or Jen or Eric or Marlee or Max or all the others, each one unique and fascinating. But it’s also taught me not to wallow in nostalgia, and to look ahead as students do each day, to a new and exciting future. Students and staff come and go, but what each of us contributes to the school stays, and makes it richer in tradition and experience each year. I’m so glad I’ve been able to be part of this best of all possible educations, the Sudbury schools experience.

— Lisa Lyons, August, 2009

I was reminded of how important it is (and sent him links to Danny Mydlack’s so-cool documentary)* that we have some other options, other models, other modalities of “education.” So glad — so very glad — that there are other options demonstrated, even celebrated, within Fairhaven.

A while ago I had a different conversation with a father of a Fairhaven student, who literally feared he was truly ruining his son’s life forever, by allowing him to attend Fairhaven. Most importantly, I told him that I had likewise been fearful throughout those five years at Fairhaven, fearful that I was taking a risk with my son’s life and future. Then I told him flat-out that I had been wrong –that my son, who had spent five years “doing nothing” at Fairhaven, had just graduated from college with a 3.51 GPA, and was unquestionably a stronger, happier human being because of his five years of freedom, unimpeded curiosity, and direct, responsible democracy.

I wasn’t as eloquent with him, of course, but he did seem a little less fearful after hearing a happy-ending story. Parents will always be fearful of making a mistake that ruins their children’s lives. I sure was, though I feared it less and less as my own “unusual son” blossomed over those five years.

It’s important, what Fairhaven has done, and continues to do. Staff and students: I want to pass on my appreciation of what you guys are doing, and how important the work you are doing is, to those who must confront stupid educational models, educational structures, educational missions. Thanks, guys!

Michael Jensen

Parent of Alumni

Fairhaven School, Inc. Board of Trustees member

* http://www.newamericanschoolhouse.com/

Lori Kronser

AV Corporation meeting

My son was coming home from school, grabbing me by the arms, and growling in 3rd grade. He was getting good grades and was well-behaved, but it didn’t take a rocket scientist to see that something was wrong. When he got out of the car to walk into school, I could see him stiffen up, preparing to go into the stress of the day.  It killed me to see it. No eight year old should have to put on defenses to weather their day. He deserved to be relaxed and happy at school. In tears, I went into the woods, dropped on my knees and begged for guidance.  I heard two words, “Home School”.  I called the only parent I knew who home-schooled her children. When I told her I agreed with Aristotle’s philosophy (children should learn through playing until the age of twelve), she said, “I have the school for you.” It was almost summer, and Fairhaven School would be opening in the Fall.  We were blessed enough to be able to help build that first building.  The support from the school community was amazing.

What was more amazing to me was the relaxed demeanor of the parents and staff with the children. They were actually allowing their children to jump and play in dirt piles. I didn’t hear them saying, “Be careful, you’ll get dirty” or “be careful you’ll get hurt!” They were just allowing their kids to play. The kids seemed freer somehow. We signed our son up.

For the next 9 years he attended Fairhaven School.  The school had no structured classes. If our son wanted to learn something, he had to initiate it. He played a lot of computer games. My husband and I worried. Were we being neglectful parents? Were we being irresponsible? Were we sending our son down a path to failure in the “real” world? What about study skills? Our whole way of thinking was challenged by this new idea of how children learn.

But I’d look at him when he came home from school, and he was genuinely happy. He loved his school; he loved his life. The light in his eyes that had begun to dim when he was in his previous school had come back full on. He LOVED computers.  He told us how it was teaching him strategy and lots of other things that I don’t remember because I was too busy worrying.  I just knew that when I took a deep breath and trusted my instincts, they said to keep him where he was happy and thriving and we did.

Our son graduated from Fairhaven in 2006. After attending a local community college for 1 year where he maintained a 4.0 both semesters, he was accepted into DigiPen Institute of Technology in Redmond, Washington. It shares a building with Ninetendo of American and shares a neighborhood with Microsoft.  He just completed his first year of college with 6 A’s and 3 A-’s. His major is “Real Time Interactive Simulation”. In layman’s terms, that’s coding computer games.  He’s going to play for the rest of this life.  Thank God for Fairhaven. There he learned that it was ok to be himself,that is was great for him to follow his dreams and that he was capable of making happen whatever he needed to make happen to realize his goals.

If your kid is struggling and unhappy in the school they are currently attending, you may want to try letting them spend a visiting week at Fairhaven and see that light come back into their eyes.

A Parent of  a Fairhaven School Alumnus

May, 2009

I’ve been a Fairhaven parent for many years. You’d think by now I’d be quite accomplished. Think again! Each year and each developmental stage brings its own triumphs and trials, joys and sorrows. Subsequently, I have the opportunity to discover new things about myself as I grow in this process with my children.

When my children were young, my concerns radiated around safety issues and whether their exposure to profanity would scar them forever. I fretted about their relationships with other kids, their JC sentences, their lost shoes and the annual outbreak of poison ivy.

In spite of weathering years of challenges and their eventual resolutions, I am now facing my most serious time of doubt and worry as my children are nearing the end of their Fairhaven School tenure.

Now my worries take on a higher pitch and a stronger energy. I worry about their future as they enter the unknown territory of the adult world. I am afraid that they do not have the skills they need to succeed. I am afraid they will not be able to accomplish their goals and will be trapped in dreary, meaningless jobs. I am afraid they will not be happy, successful adults.

Every parent worries, I know. But I think that Fairhaven parents wrestle with this demon to a greater extent. We have given our children an unprecedented measure of freedom and responsibility. We have given them rights in a culture that does not fully respect them and the power they have. We have given them the ability to choose how they will live. We have chosen to respect their inner wisdom and to trust that they are following a path that we cannot control.

Just at the point in their lives when my teenagers need to strengthen their self-confidence and fine-tune their ability to hear their own true voice, I panic. I am tempted to grab back the trust I have given them because I am too afraid.

But then I think back over all the worries and concerns of previous years and how my children tackled each problem and I am greatly comforted. They learned to navigate the stream safely. They learned how to use their “shocking” vocabulary with finesse, expression and responsibility. They learned to read (without lessons) and how to get at the core of complex ethical problems. They are very good at getting answers to their questions and know how to ask for help when they need it. And most significantly, they are well on the way to knowing who they are and what is important to them in this life.

Yes, I will continue to trust them. And I will continue to trust the universe to guide and support them on their path.

A Fairhaven School parent

April, 2009

Playing cards in the Circle Room.

My son is funny and witty and full of life- and information. At not quite sixteen, he has started pondering what he wants to do with his life. But things weren’t always this good. Three years ago, Simon was almost immobilized by migraines, crushed by depression, harassed by the public school system for absenteeism and totally bored by the school when he could attend. He was threatening suicide. Nothing could be further from the marvelous baby and little kid Simon had been.

In 1993 my husband and I adopted a beautiful baby boy we named Simon. From the beginning, he was special. Born six weeks premature, he was healthy but sometimes forgot to breathe. He spent his first five weeks in a neonatal intensive care unit on a cardiac care monitor entertaining the nurses. By graduation from the NICU, he could pull his leads off to make the monitor alarm and nurses come running. He would be holding the lead wires laughing. The nurses, struggling with many really sick babies, loved his antics and said he was one of the special kids, aware of the world from day one.

We brought him home and that sunny personality and driving curiosity continued to flourish. While he met all of his physical milestones on times, he was way ahead in the cognitive areas. We talked to him, read to him, and showed him the world, and he soaked it up. By eight months he was talking. At eleven months he spoke his first sentence, “Momma, read book now.” He could carry on a conversation before he started to walk at thirteen months. At eighteen months the pediatrician asked me if he had any words and I said; I had stopped counting at one hundred and fifty. He was fully conversant and understandable to anybody. By two he had learned the alphabet and his numbers and colors. If he heard a word he did not know he demanded a definition and from then on the word was his and was used appropriately. At some point he started to read, but we were not exactly sure when.

Simon and I would read a book, or see a bug, or watch a TV show that would lead us down a discovery path. Simon would want to read all the books on a topic. For example, at two-and-a-half he saw a Magic School Bus show on volcanoes. He had me read to him everything available on volcanoes in the library. He decided to be a volcanologist and to that end dictated and illustrated his own book on volcanoes. Between two and five he followed this path on a variety of topics- bugs, fish, rocks, dinosaurs, ancient Egypt, the ocean and others I can’t even remember.

Simon also loved music and could sing any song he ever heard. Once, while driving in the car, a Strauss waltz came on and Simon at two described it “like chocolate.” In listening to Beethoven’s Pastoral symphony he told me he saw the storm. Only recently did I discover that Simon still has that synesthesia and sees music.

Before he turned five, Simon and I lost his Dad suddenly. It was only then that I discovered that my husband, who was chronically ill, had been preparing Simon for this and “downloading memories” that would be triggered during Simon’s childhood. Months later when I took him fishing he told me stories about Daddy fishing as a little boy, and a year later told me stories about Daddy camping. All stories I could confirm with siblings. It was an amazing gift and the memories kept coming for many years.

Despite the wonderful memories, it was hard for Simon to lose his Dad. Fortunately we found a wonderful private kindergarten with before and after care where he thrived. By second grade, however, they were concerned about his handwriting, his fidgeting and periods of depression. His curiosity and intellectual drive were fading. An extensive cognitive and psychological evaluation indicated he was extremely bright, possibly had attention-deficit, and had some depression and poor fine-motor coordination. We all assumed the depression was a combination of the loss of his father and hereditary since his birth father suffered from depression. This is where our downward spiral began. We were referred to both an occupational therapist and a psychiatrist. The occupational therapist made him go backwards from cursive to printing and caused such turmoil that to this day he does neither. The child psychiatrist put him on an antidepressant not recommended for children. This led to a condition called abdominal migraines which lasted six months and led to significant absences.

By this time Simon was in third grade, and struggling with math (the only subject he was average in) and handwriting. An insensitive math teacher humiliated him and he shut down. Sadly, he equated poor handwriting with poor writing, and wrote virtually nothing for years. The words that had poured out were gone. This was the year jet liners crashed into the World Trade Center and life changed for everyone. So much loss. My sensitive child had lost his father, and now he felt no one was safe. School was a place to go when Mom went to work. He was  learning nothing. The books being read in school were books Simon had devoured at four but he was not allowed to move ahead. Subjects were covered at third grade level and Simon was not encouraged to go beyond. When he was bored, he fidgeted and stared out the window longing for escape. They punished him. When I suggested that he be allowed to read beyond when he finished his work they said no. We knew we needed to find another school.

After searching we gave our neighborhood public school a try. The principal, with a PhD in Latin, was the kind of person who could appreciate Simon. He matched teachers and children with uncanny perception. Simon was immediately given an electronic keyboard to move beyond the handwriting issue and his fourth grade teacher spent a year trying to make him more comfortable with numbers. Testing at this time indicated that he had the broad knowledge of a 39-year-old. There was no gifted program, but there were gifted teachers who helped him grow. But still there was no intellectual challenge and his frustration and anger grew. The set county curriculum and pressure of “No Child Left Behind” left little leeway for this child. Simon pointed out that going to school was getting in the way of learning, and he didn’t like that. The migraines (this time in headache form) came back as did the depression. A week of psychiatric day treatment helped. He returned to a nurturing environment and started to blossom socially. His sixth grade teacher was a quiet and intellectual young man who finally inspired Simon to start creative writing again, something that had been suffocated by the handwriting issue. A novel and wonderful poems poured forth. Middle school was the next step and we were assured that they had a talented and gifted program which would inspire Simon.

In middle school however, Simon went from a warm and supportive place to a prison camp. No breaks, no water, no talking, no respect for children and very little learning. No understanding of his challenges despite an IEP and accommodation. On back to school night the principal told us our children were troublemakers and had to be controlled and restricted and she kept her work. My sensitive boy, again suffering from migraines, was not allowed to get a drink of water between classes or carry a water bottle. The nurse would not allow him to stay in her office when he had a headache and the teachers would not allow him to put his head down or close his eyes. When he stayed home we were both harassed over absenteeism and threatened with dire consequences. The vice principal told him him this was the best time of his life. He threatened suicide. Teachers, on some sort of work slowdown, refused to post homework on the site available for that or provide it to parents. They then punished Sim0n for not turning it in. The touted “Talented and Gifted Program” he was in simply meant they put him in Algebra, a class he was not ready for. There were no challenges in other areas. He came home once in total disgust and said, ” Mom, they covered the Renaissance in two days, what is wrong with these people?” By April I pulled him out of the school, unsure what to do or where to go.

Then I remembered that when Simon was younger, his pediatrician had mentioned Fairhaven, a new Sudbury School which was a wonderful place for another gifted patient of his. I looked at it, but at the time this place with no curriculum or classrooms seemed extreme. When and how did the kids learn? My husband, a PhD in psychology, had been a product of the Catholic school system, while I had done well in public schools and earned an MA myself. I passed on a such a far-out place. Now I was desperate. My concern was no longer ab0ut a good college for Simon, but survival.

A visiting week at Fairhaven cinched the deal for both Simon and me. My earlier concerns about his academic needs dimmed when i viewed his unhappiness. My goal was getting a happy, healthy kid back. He came back, bit by bit, over the last three years. The abandoned kittens found the first day of school seemed an omen. We brought one home and she joined our dog and other two cats and helped our family heal. The first year he mostly sat around or slept when in the grip of migraines. His companions at school that year seemed to be the younger girls. He could read to them and tell them stories and they let him retreat to a more comfortable social situation. It was at that time he also found a mentor among the older students. Anne was a wonderful young woman who had fought depression and school issues herself, and supported Simon in his healing. He also found male staff members who were interested in ideas and words and not just sports. The migraines were still around, but they were accepted as part of Simon.

By the second year Simon was relaxing and becoming more integrated into school life. Another mentor, Paris, had been at Fairhaven since the beginning, and educated Simon in the inner working s of a democratic school. She also reawakened his intellectual interests and introduced him to the joys of the theatre and music. He would come home bursting with ideas and arguments about politics, religion, economics and the world order. He became an expert on the Broadway musical, malaria, sharks and rays, and European history.

Unfortunately the migraines didn’t go away, and the depression they brought on deepened. His psychiatrist felt that hormones where causing the increasing intensity and length of the migraines. He also felt that emotionally Simon was approaching a crisis not uncommon in children who lose a parent so early in life. He was going to have to come to terms with becoming a man without his father. The crisis might be rough and it was. Simon spent a week in a residential treatment facility and returned a happier person. He was flooded with cards and love from students when he was hospitalized, and welcomed back with open arms. His migraines reduced and he threw himself into school life. He would come home that spring covered with mud and dirt from exploring the school’s stream hunting for fossils. He even completed a weekend school-sponsored camping trip on the beach.

Over the summer Simon attended Fairhaven Camp with his best friend, and grew six inches. The migraines retreated, then returned. Simon may live the rest of his life with migraines, but at Fairhaven he is learning that he can live with them and learn and grow. He is funny and witty and full of life as well as information. He turns sixteen soon and has started pondering what he wants to do with is life. He tells me he will know when his is ready to leave Fairhaven. I have no doubt that he has the tools and the confidence to make decisions that are right for him. I don’t know whether I will agree with his choices or not, but I know that they are his to make. I also know that he now knows how to manage and prevent the depression that has followed him. The other day he said, ” Life is generally good,” to one of his fellow students. He then looked at me and said “and I never used to think that at all.” Fairhaven gave him that confidence and joy. I have my son back.

A Fairhaven School parent

March, 2009