A few of the steps I've taken on my path to The Woods:
. . . Jacksonville, Florida (childhood) . . . High Rocks Camp in Brevard, NC (counselor) . . . National Outdoor Leadership School (student) . . . Sewanee, The University of the South (student) . . . Elk Canyon Ranch in Montana (fly fishing guide) . . . Hammond School in Columbia, SC (teacher & coach) . . . Klingenstein Summer Institute (fellow) . . . Carolina Friends School (teacher & coach) . . . National Endowment for the Humanities Summer Fellow . . . Harvard Graduate School of Education (Master's degree) . . . Center for Creative Leadership . . .
These
are some of the beliefs that form the core of my educational philosophy:
1. Young learners can thrive in a small school
where students are known well and cared for by their teachers and peers.
Conversely, the anonymous learner (not really known well or cared for by anyone
on campus) can be at risk of an education that is flimsy, ephemeral, and
superficial. Our choice in keeping Woods
a small school means that Woods is a safe, friendly, and personable place to
learn. Yet, we have chosen to be small for reasons beyond the atmosphere and
the "feel of the place." In
fact, being small has even more to do with our fundamental beliefs in how
students learn to use their minds well. Real, lasting learning takes place in the
context of a relationship—a relationship that extends beyond one class or one
year.
2. The way adults in a school behave—the way
they interact, communicate, solve problems, make decisions—teaches students how
to interact, communicate, solve problems, and make decisions. The
attitudes and values we model as adults are a major part of the curriculum, not
a fringe after-thought. A school that
cares about developing values in its students will be deliberate in thinking
about what teachers are teaching when they are not “teaching.”
3. Teachers who teach well must have, at least,
two loves. First, teachers must have a genuine
love for the particular age group with which they spend their day. Each age of learner comes with different
questions and different “leading edges,” and successful teachers know the
particular kinds of questions to which they themselves are called to
facilitate. I have often quoted my first
principal who said, “You must have a real love for working with adolescents . .
. without needing to be one.” He knew
that teachers who were fascinated—rather than annoyed—by the stage of life that
is adolescence would be able to work with vibrancy, rather than with resentment. To teach at their best, teachers must
fundamentally be energized by the particular age group with which they work—and
not see the questions and quirks of that age as annoyances or problems. Second, teachers must have a passion for
their subjects that is contagious. In my own class, I want my students to
observe daily what it's like to have a real love for something. If they
don't come away with a love for English literature exactly, then I hope they,
at least, come away with a strong impression of what true passion for a
subject looks like. When a school is
mindful of these two loves, and is careful in finding teachers who possess
them, then learning in that school can be alive.
4. A successful school conveys an ethos of
supportive and hopeful expectation.
Students should be made to feel that they are cared for for the very
specific people they are right now, and (and!) they must always feel
challenged and expected to become the very best version of themselves they can
achieve. The message conveyed in a
million forms must be, “We care for you no matter what. And we care that you do your very best!” Over-emphasizing the former can sometimes devolve
to a tone of, “anything goes, just so long as we’re all happy.” Over-emphasizing the latter can, at times, be
dehumanizing and neglectful of the full dimensions of human life. Balancing the two is an essential skill of a
wise school. Balancing the two is the
art of teaching and leading.
