This week the US celebrated Thanksgiving, and as usual it hit me with conflicting emotions and sentiments. As a child, I called this holiday my favorite—but honestly, I was all about the food. My family celebrated with my maternal grandparents, the ones I highlighted in last week's post. My mother was an only child, so it was just my parents, grandparents, and three siblings gathered around the table. As you can imagine from my descriptions of cooking with my beloved Gram, it was always a feast to behold. We'd watch the Macy's Parade, then eat and eat and eat. None of the adults were really football fans, so I wasn't exposed to that part of the tradition.

As a child of the '60s, I was taught the story of the first Thanksgiving as a rite of passage, without question. No one—at least that I heard—thought to challenge it. It wasn't until my mid-30s, when I was majoring in Anthropology at SUNY Potsdam, that I fully understood the atrocities inflicted upon Native peoples by my own ancestors—atrocities we have so cleverly disguised through sanitized stories and selective retellings of history. I try to reconcile those facts daily: the people I come from made my presence here possible through hundreds of years of colonization—stealing land and lives from the people who were already here, destroying their culture, traditions, and languages in the process.

Which brings me to the following truths that I believe with my whole being:

• I am grateful for my life and my family and proud to be a multigenerational resident of the rural North Country of New York State. (Thankfully, they chose the northern climes; I likely would not survive a year-round warm/humid environment.)
• I cannot erase or alter the trauma my ancestors inflicted; I can only name that harm and dedicate my life to doing good work and making positive change for my community. I am indebted to all the folks who support me in this work.
• On a broader scale, no person is "illegal." First, the word illegal is an adjective, not a noun—it describes actions, not human beings. The people who come here from other places are seeking a better, safer life than the one they left behind—which is exactly why most of us white folks are here. Our European ancestors did the exact same thing. Second, most have followed protocol but are still being hunted down, kidnapped, and persecuted—illegally imprisoned by this current regime. These individuals have contributed immensely to our society, laboring in agricultural, construction, and retail jobs that weren't being filled by the available workforce—they literally do the work no one else will do. As a group, they have paid more taxes than many large corporations and their billionaire owners combined. I am reminded that diversity is the key to our survival and grateful that these humans bravely persist.
• In that same vein, every person alive is entitled to, at the bare minimum, safe and comfortable housing, enough food and water, healthcare, and a supportive community where they can learn and grow. If that statement seems radical, consider the alternative—which is exactly where we are right now. People have to prove they are worthy of those basics. Pearls are clutched when someone accesses something they don't "deserve." Meanwhile, our society rewards the ultra-wealthy and pits the rest of us against each other. The propaganda machine is working in overdrive.
• All human beings are self-directed learners with interests and aspirations. It is societal and cultural norms that, more often than not, shut that down.
• Compassion and empathy should be the starting point for every interaction, even when anger, frustration, or disappointment are triggered.
• "No" can be said from a place of grace and kindness. Additionally, it is a complete sentence all by itself—period, full stop.
• On a related note, judgment rarely helps. Before commenting on someone's appearance or choices, ask yourself: can they fix this in five minutes? If not—whether it's their outfit, hairstyle, life decision, or anything else they can't immediately change—keep it to yourself. Instead, offer genuine support and encouragement. These small acts of kindness are far more powerful in building meaningful, positive relationships.
• Living life in a state of gratitude is essential, especially when things seem the most dire.

I am deeply grateful for the opportunity to share my thoughts (and occasional rants) with you each week. Thank you for reading and engaging with these posts, and for supporting Deep Root Center's vision of an equitable, self-directed education for everyone.

Spontaneous Friday Silliness in the DRC Kitchen

You could also help celebrate my 61st birthday coming up this Tuesday by contributing to a Facebook fundraiser. ​

Additionally you can:

11/9/2015

Trust at DRC reveals itself most clearly in our mentoring relationships. I tell every member from the start: "I will never tell you what to do—or what not to do." My role isn't to direct but to listen, support, and nurture—to help each student discover their own intrinsic motivation. I'm here to help them follow their interests and passions, wherever those may lead.

Mentoring happens organically as we move through each day. Every interaction—whether a conversation during a project, a debate over a game, or a spontaneous exchange—feeds our individual and group creativity and passions and becomes a chance for me to show up with mutual respect while engaging in dialogue that matters. ​

​I also meet individually with students for more formal conversations as needed. Sometimes they request these meetings; other times, I initiate them when I notice something worth addressing. They might last two minutes or stretch to half an hour, depending on what each student needs.

During these meetings, I wear many hats: I'm a sounding board, listening carefully to both words and body language. I brainstorm with them based on my observations. I offer feedback on their progress and behavior and connect them with resources for their projects or classes. Most importantly, I act as their personal cheerleader because my main goal is for them to be successful here.

This past week, one of our thirteen-year-olds asked me for a meeting. I think he was feeling like he really needed that one-on-one time to work through some concerns. When we finally sat down that afternoon, he told me he was feeling a bit worried because he had all these fantastic ideas, created amazing plans, started the projects, and then didn't follow through to completion.

​During this particular session, he was requesting guidance and concrete suggestions—he was feeling frustrated and couldn't figure this out on his own. First, I offered him an analogy: "You're like a hamster who spent seven years in a cage—doing what you were told, running on that wheel, getting nowhere. Now you're frantically racing around because suddenly there are so many possibilities, and you're just so happy to be free."

He laughed in recognition. Then we got to work. We reviewed all his projects—and there were many—chose two he wanted to complete, identified where they fit in his academic plan, outlined the necessary steps, and set a realistic timeline for both.
This simple course of action alleviated his feelings of frustration and defeat while allowing him to remain fully in charge of his education.

The first weeks—or months—after kids are freed from traditional school are always interesting, both for them and the adults in their lives. They suddenly have all this freedom and seem to be waiting for someone to step in and say, "Ha, fooled you!" or "OK, you're feeling lost. I think you should do X, Y, and Z."

This phenomenon varies in intensity (often depending on how long they were in the traditional system) and plays out differently with each child. For some, it looks like that delighted hamster racing around, happy to finally be free. Others feel completely overwhelmed, which shows up as ambivalence, boredom, or complacency. A few have no visible reaction at all. These are all legitimate responses to this revolutionary concept of self-directed learning.

One of our fifteen-year-olds is a classic example of someone who grasped independent learning from day one. When we meet, my job is simple: listen, suggest tutors or internship sponsors, provide resources, then stand back and cheer her on. She's already completed two internships, studies osteology at SUNY Potsdam's Physical Anthropology Lab with a student intern, and is helping design our potential after-school program—all while participating in group classes at DRC.

Another twelve-year-old is still catching his breath after just a few weeks with us. He happily hangs out with other kids, participates in group sessions, and has completed some art projects. He's taking time to adjust. I haven't heard him express specific interests yet, but in time, he'll let me know how I can help. Then we'll watch him take off.
​
These examples show how our everyday interactions offer me opportunities to observe, listen, nurture, play, get messy, and learn—because I'm not concerned about controlling any student's outcome. We're all trusting and encouraging each other to be our best selves. Together, we've created a place where all thoughts, ideas, emotions, and suggestions matter equally.

Weekly Wrap-Up
This week passed in a blur!  On Thursday, our bimonthly field trip kept us closer to home.  We ate lunch at the SLU Dana Dining Hall and then visited the Brush Gallery on campus. The exhibit showcased three artists diagnosed with Parkinson's Disease and highlighted how each of them experiences and uses their creativity as a result of their illness. It is well worth a visit.