Like any good theater project, Fairhaven’s recent outdoor production of MacBeth proclaimed its merits on many levels.  Student actors, crew, and sound all executed their jobs with distinction. Fulfilling the doomed Scottish king’s prophecy–Blood…there will be blood–oh, yes, there was blood.

The autumn trees made a perfectly gloomy backdrop. The witches bewitched and the swordplay thrilled. Befitting the curse of the “Scottish play,” numerous leads fell ill a week before show time (see previous post “What Are We Teaching These Kids”), yet all but one cast member trod the boards. An enthusiastic audience came both days, and the familiar feeling for those of us who participated or watched was, indeed, the feeling of witnessing a small miracle.

This piece, however, is not meant as a review. Both my cameo as the Porter and my longstanding membership in the Theatre Corporation here at school taint my objectivity. Watch our website for more photos.  If still intrigued, re-read the play itself! Thinking about the production has refreshed my understanding of the educational milieu here, and has led me once again to the most common activity on campus: play.  Paraphrasing something Sudbury Valley staff member and writer Daniel Greenberg once wrote, “play” is any activity where the activity’s outcome is not pre-determined. It can take shape at school as dress-ups, make-believe, knitting, sports, cards, video games, hide-and-seek, and acting in a Shakespearean tragedy. Or maybe it is more nebulous: playing with ideas, joking with your friends, planning a fort, doodling, fooling around on the piano. A paradox is that play looks trivial, but is also a serious activity for our students, a crucial accelerant for growth and development.

One image from Greenberg’s piece that stuck with me was the idea of “play” in a rope. A rope with play has a little slack, right? Watching my colleague Ruth direct MacBeth reminded me of how this notion of play, well, plays out here at Fairhaven. I ran lines one day when the director was absent. Goodness, it seemed to me nobody knew their parts! Fighting my urge to control, I gave gentle reminders and prompts. Later, in classic theater fashion, the dress rehearsal was a mess. Ruth was almost pleased: “Bad dress, good performance.” When the adage proved right-on, I realized that directing theater is so much like working at Fairhaven School. In any good example of work or play, doesn’t the art lie in the lovely line between controlling and letting go?

Staff members draw this line and re-draw it every day on campus. In School Meeting or JC, how much should we dominate the discussion? How much should we hold back? A student needs some support putting on the Talent Show: how much is too much? Somebody has stopped coming to Writing Class: do I encourage her once to keep coming or just let it go?

Students also ask and answer these questions about their lives at school. Some have elaborate schedules and plans; others flow from day to day, capricious. Some free-flowers become planners over time, and some planners learn to go with the flow. The art lies in the lovely line between controlling and letting go. He wrote truth, when Shakespeare wrote, the play’s the thing. Maybe this synchronicity between school dynamic and theater dynamic explains Fairhaven’s incredible run of successful plays through the years. We Theatre Corp members hope they continue, knowing one day they may cease.

All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players.

Mark McCaig

November, 2009

Tickets for the Scottish play: "There will be blood..."

I recently had the great honor of directing a play at Fairhaven. Many know that theatre is very near and dear to my heart. I formally taught it in the public schools for many years. Throughout my time there, I was constantly battling budget cuts, focus on core subjects, emphasis on the sports program…one gets the idea. I saw myself as a champion of the arts (theatre in particular). It seems to me that one could learn just about anything one would need in life by just putting on a play.

Time management skills are a first big skill that comes to mind. I hand out a schedule early (before auditions) in the process and ask the students to work their lives around it. It is a thrill to be in a place where students want to do theatre and can commit as much of their time as they wish to the endeavor. It also proves a challenge in that, here at Fairhaven, there seems to be so many ways students can spend their days:  it’s  a capricious situation.

Commitment: a show just won’t be as successful if everyone isn’t dedicated to the project. The cast of this production, unfortunately, had a run-in with illness. In production week, the week leading up to performance, we were missing three of our leads. I had many conversations with worried actors and parents and discussions about postponing the show. In those conversations and at Theatre Corp (the decision-making body), I whipped out the old “the show must go on” adage which prompted the quote that I’ve used as the title of this piece.

Yes, we were down some very important actors. Yes, the show would not be as it had been dreamed or rehearsed. Yes, I had made a commitment to the rest of the 18 cast and crew members and community to have a show on the days I said I would. Please understand, it was never my intention to question parents as to how to convalesce their children. I am not a “what price glory?” (sorry, another cliche) sort of person. I am also not about questioning the commitment of the ill actors. I know they were deeply invested in the play, and it was a huge disappointment for the one actor who was not  able to perform. Perhaps Malcolm said it best in Act IV: “I would the friends we missed were safe arrived.”

However, we honored everyone else’s time, energy, and commitment. What are we teaching these kids? That everyone worked hard, and that sometimes, the show does have to go on.

Bravo actors, crew, and audience. It was a play well done.

Ruth Yamamoto

“She wouldn’t play with me, even after I asked her!”

She’s young and she’s upset. Her friends at school console her in the stairwell when she cries about the incident. Staff members, including me, check in, see she’s upset but okay, and move on. Although the intricacies of why these friends are in conflict are lost on me, whatever happened out on the swings really matters to them. I listen to their concerns, but do not try to “fix’ their dispute, leaving them in the capable hands of an older student.

Although the adults at other places may intervene, here is where our school culture stands: the other girl does not have to play with her if she doesn’t want to, even if her friend is very upset. Our students have the right to decide their playmates. Many, many elements compose the educational experience of Fairhaven and other Sudbury schools, including an array of freedoms: freedom of speech, freedom of movement, and  freedom of thought. Add to these freedom of assembly, a civic right that usually calls to mind people gathering to protest government actions or policies. The right of our students to play with whomever they want, and to not play with whomever they don’t want, is perhaps a cousin to their freedom of assembly.

If curiosity compels me to dig into why someone doesn’t want to play with someone else, there’s almost always a compelling reason. Sometimes it is “I want to be alone,” but more often a it is version of  “she’s not nice.”

Welcome to the world of honest feedback, people. At Fairhaven School, we value candor. A recent School Meeting had many questions and comments for Judicial Committee (JC) candidates, questions that did not pull punches about their qualifications for the crucial job of overseeing the system that maintains order at school:

“Both of you are intense and passionate, and you’ve had problems with each other. Do you really think you can work together?”

“No offense, but sometimes when you ran it before, JC was really slow.”

“Because you stay up too late, sometimes you lose focus during JC.”

Straightforward debate and inquiry, the lifeblood of a free society, is a hallmark of our school culture, nowhere more than at School Meeting. After hearing what her peers said, one JC Clerk candidate smiled knowingly, nodding. She did not storm out of the room. She knows herself and is comfortable with hearing about her shortcomings. After everyone had their say, including the candidates, the School Meeting Chair called for a show of hands: “all in favor of Lucy and Daisy for Clerks?” He counted hands. “All opposed?”

Every six weeks, we elect new clerks, and often people do not succeed. School Meeting members (staff and students) have a keen sense of who’s qualified for the complexity of running daily judicial meetings. One student tried for years before getting elected. Each May, candidates for staff undergo the same rigorous scrutiny during our staff election process. (Nobody has tenure at Fairhaven.) Is this candor difficult? At times. Is it beneficial? Absolutely. In a transparent, honest, democratic community, people at Fairhaven tend to know where they stand.  Establishing this culture has taken time, but could there be a better starting place for healthy development than “knowing where one stands?”

Ten minutes later, the stairwell is quiet again. The girls have worked out their differences. Despite a little redness around her eyes, the upset girl seems fine. Or maybe she’s a little better than fine, because she’s on firm footing as she runs out back, laughing with her friends on the way to the swing set  for another go at this thing called life.

Mark McCaig

October, 2009

Student Art 1

How does a mind grow?

How does a person become a person?

Sometimes the best measures are collages, as thoughts take shape before our eyes. In no particular order, then, here are some things we’ve seen and heard in this, the first month of our twelfth year at Fairhaven School :

The twelve-foot swings arc all day. So does the forest tire swing.

Staff and students debate and modify a complicated policy about attendance sign-out. New voices emerge at School Meeting.

Board games proliferate.

Macbeth is cast for a  Halloween production of the creepy “Scottish play.”  Rehearsals take place on the covered porch under the watchful eyes of the director. Leaves turn as cast members hone their fight scenes.

Oak trees drop more acorns than any year in recent memory, many thunking on the metal roofs.

JC sentences a student to remove acorns from the driveway circle flower bed.

The Pr Committee launches a new website and tables at two festivals.

Half the school field trips down Route 301 to the corn maze and pumpkin patch.

A student crafts cute yarn critters for her new friends in the Lyons Den (the Art Room.)

New students discover the perimeters of behavior by way of JC and School Meeting. Peers weigh in on every judicial decision.

Many classes start; some continue.

Day after day, dozens try to capture the flag on the field.

Computers, computers, computers.

Students play “Hunters and Prey” in the woods.

Some of us follow the strange saga of “Balloon Boy” live on a computer, horrified when the homemade helium craft crashes, relieved the next day when it turns out  he is alive and well at home.

School Meeting elects JC Clerks and alternates. The wheels of school justice turn and turn.

Corporations elect their executives as well. These students  run the meetings that will manage the computers, the art supplies, the Macbeth production, the kitchen, the shop, and other aspects of the daily life of the school.

Alumni visit, checking in about their lives after Fairhaven while reliving the singular experience of being here.

Conversations outnumber even the acorns.

A new young boy trots by and says to his pal, “You’re a bad dog, and I’m a bad dog.”

Still running, his fellow canine says, “No, I’m a good dog.”

Dog boy 1 regresses, saying only, “Woof.”

And so it goes!

Mark McCaig

October, 2009

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.

When Congressman Wilson of South Carolina shouted “You lie” during President Obama’s speech the other night, it became yet another example of the coarsening of the political dialogue in the nation. What’s become of civility?

Picture, if you will, a different meeting that also convened this week, not far down the road from the chamber where Wilson achieved his You Tube infamy. We held the first School Meeting of the school year at Fairhaven, called to order by a brand new School Meeting Chair at one o’clock Wednesday afternoon in our spacious Chesapeake Room. Ninety minutes of orderly business ensued, including electing new Judicial Committee Clerks (congratulations Sarah and Rebecca) and three alternate clerks, tabling a motion to charter a Board Game Corporation, and deciding to extend the facility use agreement with the startup church that rents space from us Sunday mornings.

In each discussion, no one tried to “spin” any of the facts. Although we voting members sometimes disagree, we share a genuine desire to come to the best decision for the individuals and the school. A shouted  accusation of “you lie” would sound out of place at School Meeting, and would not be tolerated. Of course we disagree, and we try to advocate our positions. Yet the over-riding concern of discovering what’s best is constant.

The meeting was humorous at times, but never crude. The new Chair and Secretary ran the meeting with skill and fairness. No one violated our rules of decorum.  We discussed issues, and then we voted. At the adjournment, we folded up our chairs and went on with our days, one meeting further into developing a culture of dignity, equality and civility. These are the things we value, and our students embody them. Despite the remarkable reality that a dozen or so students and six adults voted on all the business of the school Wednesday (and will do so for the next forty or so Wednesdays, on hundreds of issues, some minor and some quite major), it was so respectful that the event could almost be described as boring. (In fact, many students and some staff describe it as just so.)

So here’s to civility and tedium, hallmarks of a democratic culture of honest dealing and, above all, respect.

Mark McCaig

September, 2009

Welcome back to Fairhaven!

As we begin our twelfth year, we give thanks for the opportunity to provide young people a unique educational environment, a place where freedom meets responsibility.  Sometimes we marvel at the contrast between the light-filled experience of starting the school year at Fairhaven as compared to starting at a traditional school.

In the following poem, Ron Koertge of California captures this contrast.

First Grade

Until then, every forest
had wolves in it, we thought
it would be fun to wear snowshoes
all the time, and we could talk to water.

So who is this woman with the gray
breath calling out names and pointing
to the little desks we will occupy
for the rest of our lives?

Here’s to a marvelous 2009-2010 school year!

Mark McCaig

Fairhaven School staff

(Poem used with the author’s permission. Ron Koertge’s latest book of poems is FEVER (Red Hen Press). He is also the author of numerous children’s books.)

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 recently spent an hour explaining the Fairhaven/Sudbury model to a relative and friend, whose brilliant, unusual son is dealing with a public school system that expects normalcy, appropriateness, passivity, and neutrality from its students.

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/

I can’t begin to express what Fairhaven has meant to our family and to Robbie’s success in finding out who he is and how he wants to interact with the world.  As you may know, he was a defiant, rebellious, unmotivated youth when he came to you.  He is now a more level-headed young man with direction, self esteem, motivation and a sense of ethics that we were not sure would surface.  We thank you from the bottom of our hearts.  Fairhaven offered him the freedom of choice to learn about himself and to find out what works and doesn’t work in a community.  He had the opportunity and appropriate interactions to develop his fun-loving character, which had been buried by the pressures of performance in the public schools.  I love the fact that he is interested in studying law because of his experiences with JC.  I have told him for years that he would be a great lawyer because of his ability to debate and argue.  He has learned that he has a very developed sense of justice and equity (not always mainstream) and that arguing does not have to have a negative connotation.  I loved what he said at the February Graduation Intent meeting about learning that there are lots of disagreements that are not worth the fight.  He never would have walked away before.  I also loved that he said he learned a lesson from each of his many JC referrals and from mentoring his younger peer.  As a long-time public school teacher, it has been a challenge for me to let Robbie choose not to pursue any academics at Fairhaven.  I do believe that he is and has always been intelligent enough to learn those academic lessons when the time is right for him.  Obviously, his time at Fairhaven has been spent wisely learning much more important life lessons.  Fairhaven has indeed provided a fair haven for Robbie to become himself.  We are truly grateful.

Lori Kronser