Note from Maria: We had several volunteers here again this week, which gave me the luxury of extra time to finish writing the first chapter (only twelve to go) of my book Exploring the Possibilities: Challenging Cultural Norms to Support Young People on Their Self-Directed Learning Journey. I have continued the format from the Introduction—italicized excerpts from thirteen years of blog posts are interspersed within a narrative to tell the Deep Root Center Origin Story in this chapter.  In the book, those excerpts will be indented. This blog format will not let me do that, so I am inserting dividers before and after to separate them visually.  

​This week includes the first quarter or so of the chapter. It is much too long for just one post. This is a first draft; if you are willing, please send feedback.  And for those who have been along for this amazing ride from the very beginning, let me know if my memory of the sequence of events matches yours. Enjoy! 

Saying 2013 was a rough year isn't my attempt to begin this story with dramatic flair. It really was a year wrought with heavy emotion, turmoil, and an immeasurable amount of tears.

First, after a trip to Puerto Rico in March 2012 for a democratic education conference with seven teens and the director of the alternative school where I taught, I found myself solidifying my personal educational philosophy while working in that environment—a place I had considered home for ten years. On the surface, it looked like self-directed education; however, in actuality, it was a progressive school (defined later) that did not follow the principles of self-directed education I had come to consider essential.

After several months of trying desperately to reconcile those differences, both within myself and with the school's leadership, I left the position on April 19th, 2013—coincidentally my son's 19th birthday—ten years, four months and eighteen days after I'd started there as an intern. 

Almost a month after my resignation, my father, of nearly 80, died. I believe I was already so firmly embedded in grief that I was numb to his passing, and to the pain the rest of my family was enduring. I barely remember his funeral and the reception afterward. And I certainly wasn't there emotionally when my mom and three siblings needed me, as the eldest child, most.

A month later, I traveled to Long Island with my second child, then sixteen, to attend the AERO (Alternative Education Resource Organization) Conference.  While there, I met Ken Danford, founder of North Star Self-Directed Learning for Teens in Amherst, MA (now in Sunderland, MA). I should mention that I had already discovered North Star before meeting Ken, through my ongoing Google searches—conducted through streams of tears—for educational alternatives that weren't schools.

I was adamant about not starting a school. My negative experiences over the previous year and a half at the alternative school had solidified that position. Schools, especially alternative ones, are most often a form of progressive education, which, as Dr. Peter Gray—author of Free to Learn, my personal self-directed learning bible—describes it, is based on a benevolent teacher's brilliance, not the child's.

Once I learned more about North Star's philosophy, I knew that was exactly what I wanted to create, right here in Northern New York.
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Ken, along with Joel Hammon of Princeton Learning Cooperative (the first replicator of North Star), set up Liberated Learners, a not-for-profit that streamlined replication. Becoming a member of the network—and gaining access to Ken and Joel's help and resources—required a one-time start-up fee. It was an open-source arrangement: anyone who joined the network could access and use any intellectual property they had created over the years.

Excerpt from: This Ain't New—written January 12, 2015

While Deep Root Center is relatively new (we opened our doors almost exactly a year ago), the self-directed learning model is not. We, along with eight other Centers in the US and Canada, are members of the Liberated Learners Network, which replicates North Star: Self-Directed Learning for Teens in Hadley, MA.

North Star has a proven track record, since 1996, of assisting over five hundred teens in the Amherst/Northampton area to leave school and, as Ken states, "get a life." That is nineteen years of mentoring and advising kids who are miserable, disenfranchised, and who want to engage with the world on their own terms. Nineteen years of providing an individualized, non-coercive education to youth who choose to leave school. Nineteen years of proclaiming: Learning is natural. School is optional. Nineteen years of listening with compassion to teens who are bursting to tell their story. These kids are so grateful to North Star that they are delighted to share their stories with others considering the self-directed learning path, at open houses and info sessions for North Star and the other Liberated Learner Centers.

In truth, however, this method of educating children has been around much longer than nineteen years. In fact, it has been around since anatomically modern humans have roamed the earth. As big-brained primates, we are designed to learn over a long childhood. How could we survive to pass on our genes if that weren't true? And despite current cultural beliefs, that desire to learn does not turn off just because a child turns 5, 8, or 13. It remains with us our entire lives. Personally, I am not entirely happy unless I am in the midst of a learning experience. Think of all the stories on NPR or CBC (for those of you in Canada or on the border), or on the Internet, that capture your attention; you are engaged, thinking, and learning. My beloved Grandma used to say, "It has been a wasted day if you didn't learn something new."

Ken Danford and Joshua Hornick, the founders of North Star, simply took the concept of self-directed learning that has been around forever and built this "new" educational model. I would contend that this form of education only appears revolutionary, unfamiliar, and scary because our society accepted compulsory education as the norm a little over 100 years ago. Public education became the law of the land as a way to combat child labor in factories and mines and to create a pliable, obedient industrial workforce for the future—not necessarily to promote learning. But even then, up until 50 or so years ago, discretion and common sense ruled. For example, children who lived on farms were excused during important seasonal work essential to the livelihood and survival of the family.

Common sense is what the self-directed educational experience encompasses. Each individual is empowered to make the most logical choices based on their own needs, desires, and interests. I'll say it again: it ain't new and it ain't rocket science—we humans have been doing it for a few millennia. These visionaries in the Pioneer Valley of Massachusetts just brought it into the modern age, and we are very fortunate they decided to share their model with the rest of the world.

After visiting North Star for a replication conference in June, an additional two months of grieving, and following potential leads that weren't right at the time, I decided in August 2013 to jump in and start a learning center using North Star's guiding principles, sooner rather than later, with January 2014 set as our trial opening period.

DRC was one of the first to join Liberated Learners. The process has changed over the years, but the concept of sharing ideas across all the Centers remains the same.
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The St. Lawrence University library became my unofficial office. I set up my computer at a table by a large window overlooking the historic Gunnison Chapel every day. I was very conscious about taking phone calls outside so as not to disturb other library patrons—which meant lots of trips up and down the stairs. It wasn't ideal; however, access to reliable wifi was essential, and I am grateful it was there for me when I needed it.

My second kiddo was also homeschooling for their last year of high school (doubling up to skip a year, like their big brother) and was a regular at the SLU library as well—setting up in one of the double-decker study carrels (known colloquially as "treehouses" on campus) every day to work on an extensive research project, create art, and watch a fair bit of Netflix. They definitely felt a sense of ownership over that particular "treehouse," despite not being a SLU student.

During those first few months, I made my way through the long checklists of everything required to start a not-for-profit. Knowing we needed a board of directors, I held a gathering at the local Cornell Cooperative Extension building to vet potential board members. We had a few folks who were supportive but didn't want to take on a board role. In the end, our first board consisted of myself, my husband, and Paul, a long-time friend and neighbor. Meeting with a counselor from the SBA at SUNY Canton to build a comprehensive business plan was at the top of the list. Registering the business name and DBA with the county; setting up a mailbox; asking for help, and then eventually figuring out on my own how to build a drag-and-drop website; setting up social media accounts and posting regularly; meeting with Seedcorn to ask for fiscal 501(c)(3) sponsorship while figuring out how to apply for our own (they said "yes"); setting up a bank account; and learning accounting skills—these were just a few of the thousands of tasks I completed, all while searching the NoCo for a space to call home.  

DRC Weekly Round-up

The DRC Crew had another very chill week.  We hosted seven volunteers throughout the week.  

Monday. Hudson & Raven, our SLU CBL students, came in to volunteer. Hudson played Monopoly, and Raven continued making a cardboard gauntlet with K. K created another Bob Ross-inspired painting.

​Enormous thanks to volunteer and DRC Board VP, Kris R., for coming in on Tuesday to teach a metal art class. The Crew thoroughly enjoyed the project. In Geography class, C gave a presentation about Angola. We talked about the effects of colonization and missionaries on the people of African Countries.

Huge thanks to Pete for volunteering to lead the crew in remodeling our treehouse on Thursday. After meeting for an hour to discuss logistics, they decided the entire structure needs to be moved from the tight space it occupies to accomplish their goal of adding stairs and other improvements. There was lots of brainstorming and problem-solving going on out there. And thank you to Ryan for coming in with his fancy chessboard to play. He introduced two kiddos to the game

On Friday, we had our first Kitchen Sink Science (KSS) class of the year. We tore up green leaves into tiny bits and put them in rubbing alcohol - filled beakers, which we then placed in a pan of hot water. After they “marinated,” for 45 min., we put a strip of coffee filter paper in to see if the color under the chlorophyll would appear. It did not. We wondered if it would have been successful if we had used leaves whose color change is more dramatic, such as sugar maples. That is something to test another day. B made a delicious apple cake. During the afternoon, Debora and Sara, two of our SLU CBL volunteers, helped begin the process of planning a mural for the art/music studio. They may have gotten sidetracked showing the intricacies of a game that they play and painting a landscape. At the end of the day, Digby Doo took over E's lap for an afternoon snooze.

Our Home
Eight years ago, on September 26, 2018, I wrote a few really big checks, and 48 Riverside Dr. became Deep Root Center’s permanent home. After the closing, I went directly to the house and ate my first of many lunches standing in that kitchen. It is a space we are so grateful for—but also curse every day. It is poorly designed, the floors are beat up, and it's way too small for our crew, but mostly functional; we make and eat good food together, do awesome science experiments, and hang out having amazing conversations. 

The dream is to remodel it to be a space that effectively serves its many functions; until that becomes reality, we will deal with what we have with gratitude, even when we grumble about tripping over each other.

​A few weeks ago, I wrote about the inundation of AI in educational settings and the many professionals bemoaning the prevalence of cheating with this new technology. In that piece, I placed the blame squarely on the system itself. Most simply stated, we have removed curiosity and creativity from our educational system and replaced them with compliance. Our young people are fed the correct answers without being given any context for the whys or hows. They spend their time focused fully on staying inside the proverbial lines, chasing carrots and avoiding sticks. Of course, they will use AI or whatever else to get the answer or the needed product with the least amount of effort. They have learned that creativity can be outsourced—not that it is an essential part of problem-solving, and thus human survival. 

Today, I am stepping outside of education to look at the ubiquitous use of AI in the workplace and in our private lives.

As an extremely independent-minded individual who takes great pride in being creative, I find the prevalence of AI slop appalling and embarrassing—especially when artists and other creatives use it wholesale to generate a piece from a few prompts, simply to save themselves a little time. AI-generated "art" is obvious even to the untrained eye. It's ickily slick and, at least to me, feels deceitful. When I see it, I am immediately turned off and distrustful of that company or organization—the opposite, I have to assume, of the effect they're going for.

With that said, I want to return to an important concept from that earlier post: AI is not inherently evil, and using it doesn't make you morally corrupt. It can be helpful, with the caveat that judicious best practices are applied. For example, I occasionally use Claude to polish a piece when I feel my grammar needs help or things can be tightened up. Once I get the recommendations, I use them as suggestions to revise my original piece. It's one more tool in my arsenal—not to write for me, but to make my writing the best it can possibly be. 
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On the other hand, I avoid using AI features when creating anything in Canva—a task made a bit harder now that they've fully integrated it into the platform. One of my pet peeves, and the reason I actively seek out other resources, is companies with once-great tools that devolve into peddling corporate garbage. Mailchimp and QuickBooks (decidedly not coincidentally owned by the same company) are two more examples, and why I switched to Substack for this blog and Wave for all of our accounting needs. If anyone has suggestions for a free platform similar to Canva, minus the AI slop, please let me know.

Bottom line: if you need a graphic or any other kind of art and don't feel confident creating it yourself, find an artist to make it for you.

If we continue as we are, we ensure the death of creativity, and ultimately the death of society—which may be exactly what the leaders of the AI companies were warning us about this third week of September 2026.
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Creativity is what sets humans apart. Without it, we are nothing. 

This week, the DRC Crew happily welcomed eight volunteers. On Monday, Raven and Hudson from the SLU CBL program and Pete, a community member and DRC supporter from the beginning, all came in. Between discussing cosplay and building cardboard gauntlets, sorting out hundreds of Magic: The Gathering game cards, and brainstorming carpentry and woodworking projects, such as fixing up our treehouse, with cool conversations swirling through it all, we had a busy and productive Monday morning.

On Thursday, Carol, our community volunteer for the day, arrived just in time to help make apple crisp from the two enormous bags of sliced apples that the SLU Campus Kitchens team delivered with our Bear Packs. Afterward, she and E & H went out to our woods to explore. They found some very cool items, including a Pepsi can from 1976.

On Friday, the DRC Crew welcomed four more volunteers. Ryan, a community volunteer, was a former student member and an apprentice for two years. He will be volunteering regularly to play chess and piano. Yesterday, he and T started investigating the piano in the garage to see why many keys aren't working. It seems that humidity, dust, and dirt are the culprits, not a rodent's nest as I suspected. They spent a couple of hours exploring the guts and learning how a piano works. 

Journeih, Sara, and Debora are SLU students in the Community Based Learning program. They are super excited to spend Friday afternoons with us. They created art, played music, sang along to the Hamilton soundtrack, and we happily discovered that Sara will take on the Dungeon Master role for D&D starting next week. I also overheard that they plan on creating a DRC Band. One of them said she would learn to play the electric guitar. Another had the violin out, tuning it. 

We are so very fortunate to be able to tap into the SLU CBL Program; it is an amazing resource. Our student members benefit greatly from spending time with young adults who eagerly and excitedly share their interests and talents with them.  

Making your mark: we humans have been obsessed—since the time our earliest hominid cousins roamed the earth—with leaving something behind to say, I was here. 

As someone who is both neuro-spicy and a trained anthropologist, I have always been intrigued by the patterns that show up on repeat in human behavior. At the very heart of it, I am a people watcher—an observer endlessly curious about what I see. 

A couple of days ago, I noticed tire skid marks all over the freshly paved road I drive on every day going in and out of town. There were too many to be explained by people braking suddenly for a deer or other critter crossing the road. I realized it was intentional—someone was leaving their mark. Frankly, it isn’t all that different from Neolithic humans using their hands as stencils to make handprints on cave walls. 

That got me thinking about the other ways we humans leave our mark, figuratively and literally. Something you might call a legacy.
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Abject cruelty—breaking and hurting things for the sake of breaking and hurting—is one kind of legacy. To be clear, this behavior isn’t accidental. It’s coldly calculated to harm as many people as possible, and I’m sure you’ve noticed it has been amplified and celebrated in recent years by the people with the most to gain from it. There’s also the pettier cruelty, including obnoxious behavior towards service workers and harsh judgment, the kind that shows up in shitty comments from keyboard warriors. 

Related is the particular type of narcissistic vanity that makes sure your name ends up on buildings and the like—whether through “charitable” contributions or straight-up bullying, never through honor or genuine appreciation. I sometimes wonder whether they understand it isn’t the kind of legacy they think it is, whether they’re really just that oblivious, or simply don’t care.

Kindness, empathy, and working for the good of all are another way to leave your mark. Often these endeavors are carried out quietly, without fanfare, with the understanding that the point isn’t performance but the people who will benefit. Frequently, the extent of their giving—whether in dollars, time, or attention—isn’t broadly recognized until after they’re gone. Sadly, we’ve seen a few examples of this in the last few weeks. 

You don’t need fame or fortune to leave a positive mark. All it takes is a dedication to kindness, a willingness to put your talents to use, to recognize your privilege—no matter how large or small—and to utilize it to serve others. To put it simply: make a difference.

The legacy we leave behind is up to each of us. Knowing you have a lifetime to build it, do you want to be known for cruelty and breaking things for the sake of vanity or advancing yourself, or for lifting others and making the world better for everyone? I certainly know where I stand. Honestly, it isn’t that hard—the golden rule of common decency is the only guide you need. Don’t be an a$$.

The DRC Crew had a great first week back from summer break. We're settling into a routine that honors each student member—their interests and goals—which we then build into a schedule that supports everyone's requests and needs. Our morning check-ins are a time to make requests, discuss the things that arise, and review the day's opportunities. The morning academic period is designed for independent study (with support as needed): each kiddo has a folder with a list of activities and resources, whether worksheets, books, websites, or apps to choose from. On Thursday and Friday, I met with each of them to discuss which items they wanted on their lists, typed them up, and printed them for their folders.  

After that session each morning, we usually bake something for lunch. Then have a class that focuses directly on particular requests. For example, on Thursday, we had our first geography class where they decided to begin with the southern portion of Africa. Each week, they will study maps, choose a country to research and share with the group, and ultimately fill in a blank map of that area of the world. One teen suggested the class, and several others wanted to join.

There are usually a few kids who help to make lunch each day. We all create the menu together on Friday during Morning Check-in for the following week—largely based on what we have available in the cabinet and the freezer. 

We decided that our afternoons would mostly consist of hands-on and creative pursuits. This week, we had art sessions with some inspiration from social media reels. After someone brushed Digby and accumulated a pile of fur, B spontaneously decided to needle-felt a tiny sculpture of Digby with it. Luckily, we had some needle felting supplies that a volunteer donated a few years ago.  

This is what self-directed, non-coercive education looks like. Everyone is fully engaged and making conscious choices about their day.  

Imagine a world where every person is unconditionally supported to become the best version of themselves — to be who they're meant to be. Where each of us is not only allowed but encouraged to be fully authentic, follow our interests, explore every possibility, and work toward our own goals and aspirations, without being offered silly rewards for it. Where judgment simply doesn't exist, because everyone practices advocacy instead. This isn't to say such a world is free of hard work, struggle, challenge, or critique — those remain a natural part of exploring possibilities, making mistakes, owning them, and learning from them. We just ask that none of it be dehumanizing or traumatizing. But blame, harsh criticism, and punishment? Those become obsolete. Sounds nice, right?

Instead, we have today's world — one where judgment is the first thing we reach for, before curiosity, before kindness, before empathy. And when we're not judging others, we're blaming them. To paraphrase a popular social media reel: immigrants are not the reason your life sucks. LGBTQIA+ folx are not the reason your life sucks. Black and brown folx are not the reason your life sucks. A different religious affiliation from yours is not the reason your life sucks. These are the groups people in power want you to believe are the problem, because it shifts focus away from what actually matters — the things they have no intention of fixing, since doing so would hurt their own corrupt bottom line.

As a result, creativity and empathy get drowned out — by trauma responses on one end, and the pursuit of ease, perfection, and corruption on the other. Contradictions that seem lost on most people, leaving us with a final result that's utter slop.

So what would it take to get to that imagined world? I believe the first step is providing everyone access to the basics. Because despite what some might claim, everyone deserves — yes, I said deserves — good food, clean water, housing, universal healthcare (including mental and dental), and comprehensive disability accessibility, without gatekeeping. When you don't have to struggle to survive, battle trauma, or fight others' negative perceptions of you, your energy and focus go toward creativity and pursuing your own path instead of judging others. 

The second step is recognizing that the oligarchy actively campaigns for the status quo, pitting us against each other because they want us to believe these ideas are radical — when really, they're simply humanizing.

In the end, for the most part, we each want all of these things for ourselves; why not broaden our wishlist to include everyone?  With enough folx working toward this goal, we can place the blame squarely where it belongs, and absolutely achieve equity for all. 

Ready or not — our first day is Tuesday!  I am looking forward to welcoming the Crew back to an organized and (mostly) clean Center. (Digby is still shedding gobs and gobs of fluff!)  Stay tuned for the first week in photos.  

...currently in an educational environment that doesn't give them the freedom to explore their own interests and goals.

...feeling bored, anxious, or disenfranchised. Many have tried to make school work for them — in different ways, in different places — with similar results each time. School simply isn't for everyone.

...seeking a hands-on, interactive, and dynamic environment where they're free to be creative, imaginative, inventive, and curious — to explore, make mistakes, and get their feet wet, both figuratively and literally. A place to follow their dreams and spread their wings, surrounded by people who accept them as they are and support them unconditionally to grow into their authentic selves.
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If this describes your child, you can learn more about Deep Root Center by clicking here or contacting Maria.