Mini-society

It is a truism that a school is a microcosm of society, but nowhere is this more vividly illustrated    than during a week each June, when the whole school literally is turned into a Mini-society. After the excitement and hard work of the Fair, children come to school on the next Monday with eager anticipation ready to start a new kind of work - that of paid employees in a corporate world of "bosses", unions (sometimes) and all the trappings of commerce. This huge week-long simulation game, that turns teachers into bosses and children into workers,  allows them to explore the World of Work in a hands on way. It culminates in Market Day on Friday morning in which the school is transformed into  a  marketplace with stalls selling various handmade items, food concessions, games, spas, buskers, paid advertising and mobile vendors.  It is much more than a training ground for young entrepreneurs, as it explores a range of workplace issues such as equity, benefits, savings, workers' rights, currency issues and more.

The week before, the all important detail of the name of the currency for this year's Mini-society is discussed and voted on by all the students in the school. Everyone is allowed to put forward suggestions, and an elaborate system of weeding out less popular (and sometimes inappropriate) names is done through several meetings. Over the years, some very imaginative currencies have seen the light - it always amazes me that names such as "Googoogagas", "Dylonges" or "Oodles" roll off the tongue so easily after a few days of use. Once the currency name has been decided, the older students create design for the different denominations and stacks of coloured, photocopied bills are produced ready to be handed over to the Mini-society "bank",  run by Middle School students.

On Monday morning, the day starts with a whole school meeting, where the elementary children are divided into 5 multi-age producer groups, and reminded of some of the basic elements of Mini-society. They are told that they will be paid 12 oodles for their work from 9:00 to 10:30 each day (and one afternoon),  that the 5 workplaces are Snack, Newspaper, 2 Crafts, and Gardening, and that on Friday they will have a chance to buy some of the crafts from a "warehouse" at wholesale prices and resell them during the marketplace, as well as items that they have made at home. They are told that after worktime is over, (at snack time), they will be able to deposit their money in the Mini-society bank, thus gaining interest over the week of 10%, but to be sure to save out some oodles to buy the snack (produced by the Snack group) and the newspaper.

Then off the various groups go to their workplaces, where they work with one or two teachers to make their product. The children are partnered up within their groups so that an older child is always looking out for and helping a younger one. Just before 10:30, the bosses pay the salaries to the workers, sometimes to the shock of a few children, docking pay for not working hard enough or giving bonuses for work beyond the call of duty. Then the children line up to deposit their earnings in the bank (the 5 branches are conveniently located outside each classroom workplace and staffed by Middle School students). Outside the lunchroom, vendors are hawking the daily version of the newspaper, hot off the presses, so that children have something to read as they munch on the daily snack, purchased from a stall within the lunchroom. Then, all the children run outside to be children again, ready to start all over the next morning in a different activity. Over the 4 mornings and one afternoon, all children experience each workplace and get paid for 5 "days" of work.

At 11:00, after play time, daily meetings reinforce some of details of how mini-society works as well as deal with issues that arise during the sessions. The younger children are often confused about what happens on market day, and don't understand why it's a good idea to trust their hard earned cash to the banks. Stories of lost or stolen money, as well as the advantages of earning interest are shared, but it always surprises me that some children refuse to patronize the banks and prefer their pockets instead. Issues of fairness or equity are raised: One year a student who was sick and missed a day of "work" thought it was unfair that she didn't get paid, so sick leave at half pay was instituted.  Another year teachers forgot what the rate of pay the previous year was, and salaries were set at a lower rate, and a union was formed to agitate for higher pay. The system of handing out bonuses is often considered to be arbitrary by the children, and lots of discussion  ensues about how to make it fairer.

What is actually produced during these work sessions?   In the Snack group, the children make healthy but fun snacks designed to appeal to them and then sell them for 2 oodles at snack time. They also realize that advertising will promote their product, so a small group produces a roving commercial that visits all the other workplaces, singing or acting a jingle

In the Newspaper group, children brainstorm  and  are assigned various topics on which to report, and then despatched with clipboards to conduct interviews, polls and observations of what is happening in Mini-society that day. They are given a strict deadline in which to return, so that they can edit and finish their good copy on small pieces of paper which are then cut and pasted onto a 2 sided legal sheet of paper. A name is chosen for each paper, comics, games and puzzles are drawn and sometimes there is a theme that drives the topics chosen. On some days, ads are solicited (at a price) to promote some of the businesses which will be appearing on Friday.  It can get very hectic towards 10:30 when the competing pressures of uncooperative photocopiers, unmet deadlines, a public clamouring for their daily read and employees needing to be paid can result in some palpitations on the part of the editors, but it is all worth it for the sight of a room full of children absorbed in reading their papers, while munching on the snack of the day.

A variety of items are produced in the two Craft groups each day. Most often the craft is something that can be made by children of all ages, and is appealing for children and adults alike. Friendship bracelets, hand-made diaries, mandalas, bubbleprint cards, origami animals, games, toys, and painted rocks are just a few of the types of items that have been produced. Sometimes a Craft group produces something that has a real, and practical use for the school. When the school was hosting a fundraising run, the children became button producers, and designed and made buttons to give out as participation medals. Another year when the Native garden needed a fence built to protect it from soccer balls (and players), the Craft session became a Fence Factory, where each child painted a fence picket. These were  later assembled and installed into a colourful, funky picket fence that the children enjoy every day on the playground. But the main purpose of the Craft sessions is to produce items that can then be bought and sold on Market Day.

The Gardening group performs a real service. The children help with  planting and weeding in the vegetable or Native garden, as well as pruning and labelling various crops. On rainy days, they create garden crafts to be sold on Market Day - painted plant pots, child-designed packets of seeds, bottle birdfeeders, or concrete paving stones to name a few.

Friday morning, or Market Day, is easily the most exciting, eagerly anticipated day of the school year. Some children plan what they are going to do months in advance. A few days before, all the children have had an opportunity to buy licenses for the particular business they and their friends are going to have. Food licenses are very popular, so there is  a lottery to decide who gets them. Mobile vending licenses (the right to use the trolley carts from the kitchen) are also popular, and as there are only 2 of them,  a lottery is often needed there too. Gaming licences are issued, as well as busking licences,  and licences for retail outlets.

Market Day starts as the children withdraw all their money from the bank and then  are called down in groups, according to a lottery system, to buy goods from the "warehouse". Items are grouped in batches of two or three, with a price designed to reflect the amount of work put into them - some items are made by one child alone in a session, while others are the work of several children together. This is the time where many children need to have it explained why they can't just buy the one item that they made themselves, and some need to be encouraged to "spend money to make money". Younger ones often need some counselling on what sort of mark up on the items they buy will allow them to make money, but not price themselves out of the market. If sales in the warehouse are not brisk enough, the teachers will  reduce the wholesale price in order to stimulate the economy, and get the goods to the market.

While all this is going on, the other children are setting up their stalls in classrooms around the school, displaying licences and making price tags. The lunchroom is set aside as a Food Court, and all vendors are anxiously awaiting the warehouse to close so that they can set up. As soon as it is, the blenders come out and the trays of cupcakes and cookies are attractively displayed. At 9:30, the Market is declared open for business, and the school starts to buzz.

Groups of Littles and Youngs, accompanied by parents, start their shopping expeditions, with pockets bursting with cash. They take it in turns to leave their Littles Carnival or Youngs Marketplace, so that some are always on hand to run the stalls.  The adults with them help them make the difficult decisions about what to spend their oodles on, and make sure that they are happy with their purchases. As they travel around the school, they come across a girl lying on the floor with her legs wrapped around her neck, and a hat out for donations. They hear the blare of music coming from

Values Education

The poet Samuel Taylor Coleridge once had a discussion with a man who argued that children should not be given any religious training, but should be free to choose their own faith when they were old enough to decide for themselves. Coleridge later invited him into his garden. It seems our Mr Coleridge was a great poet but not a great gardener. “Do you call this a garden?” the visitor asked. “There are nothing but weeds here!”

“Well, you see,” Coleridge replied, “I did not wish to infringe upon the liberty of the garden in any way. I was just giving the garden a chance to express itself.”

Source: Reported in Daily Walk, March 28, 1992

If we change the words "religious training" to "values education" this quote illustrates what can happen in schools where values and the skills of empathy, compassion and mediation are not dealt with consistently and systematically  throughout. How often do we hear that high schools are like a jungle? In Nova Scotia today, the challenge of dealing with children and adults who do not have these skills is magnified with the rise of social media. Every day we read in the papers about bullying in schools, and the sometimes tragic results that can occur when it is disseminated and compounded through Facebook or texting.

Halifax Independent School is a religiously non-religious community. No religious holidays are celebrated, unless in a range of celebrations as a part of a comparative religion unit. Although children are not discouraged from sharing their beliefs or from asking questions about another's religion, they are reminded that not everyone shares the same beliefs. The diversity of religion within the school population, as well as diversity of cultures, is celebrated, and treated the same way as children are encouraged to treat differences in personality or height - with respect and appreciation.

From the earliest age, children are taught to respect each other's beliefs, their feelings, their privacy and their bodies. This type of Values Education is taught both explicitly in classroom discussions, and implicitly through example and modelling. Specific language is taught to give children the tools to tell each other when they feel that boundaries are being breached. "I don't like it when you..." "I feel hurt/sad when you....." " When you grab that from me, I feel..." The idea that every human being is a whole being deserving of our respect is modelled constantly by the teachers and older children through emphasis on positive comments and separating the behaviour from the person. Children are taught through example that when they misbehave, it is their behaviour that is being castigated, not them,  and the basic respect for them never wavers. The expectation is that they will behave in the same way to their peers. 

Perhaps one of the strengths of HIS is the way in which interpersonal relationships are at the very heart of the school culture and curriculum....not only are there many opportunities within the school year, week and day for teaching and talking about such issues, but the adults behave in ways that reinforce them. One of the most fundamental ways that this happens is the fact that no one in the school uses a title...all teachers, administrators and parents are known by all by their first names. Many visitors to the school look askance at this practice and ask, "How do you maintain the respect of students for their teachers if they are calling them by their first names?" The answer is simple: in a culture where everyone is respected, regardless of status, titles are not necessary; in fact they promote the idea that there is a hierarchy of respect and that adults are more worthy of it than children.  This does not take away from the teacher's authority and role as keeper of the rules. The smallest child is granted as much respect as the Headteacher, and is entitled to be listened to with the same attention. However, it is clear that age, experience and training do give some weight to one's opinions, so that when teachers do give an opinion in Meeting, it is sometimes considered the "last word". One  teacher who demanded to be called, "Miss A.", found  that the title did not garner her  respect; in fact the opposite was the case.  

It sometimes happens that a child may see  part-time, younger staff members (often university students hired as lunch monitors) as lower on the hierarchy than regular teachers. These children may  believe, mistakenly, that lunch monitors do not need to be heeded; that if a lunch monitor asks a child to stop doing something that is against the rules, they can be disregarded. Much discussion ensues about the role of adults in the school to keep children safe, and help them navigate through any social problems they may have; it is made very clear that lunch monitors play that role, and deserve respect accordingly.

It is recognized that social problems between children, and sometimes between children and adults will occur, and when they do they are dealt with seriously. The school policy called "Solving Children's Social Problems" covers both what is traditionally called classroom discipline, and issues between children, and is referred to whenever necessary.  This chapter will show how Values Education and the importance of human relationships are two central pillars of the philosophy at H.I.S., and how they are implemented.


Sally and Amir are chasing each other around the play structure. They seem to be having fun, but suddenly shrieks are heard and they are observed locked in battle: Sally is clutching Amir's coat, while he is attempting to wrest a stick from her hands. The playground monitor separates the two, asks them to cool down and calls over Graeme, an older boy wearing a blue sash. 
"Do you need a Peer Mediator?" he asks the two. Sally nods slowly, while Amir, still crying, kicks the gravel with his foot. The monitor melts away, while Graeme leads to the children to a quiet corner. He asks Amir, "Are you willing to try to work this out?" 
This time Amir, wiping the tears from his face, says reluctantly, "Okay." 
Graeme asks Sally if she would like to tell what happened. "We were playing Lost in Space, and I was the Spaceship commander and we were fighting aliens.I had the magic light sabre..."
"But I had it first!" interrupted Amir.
"Remember the rules of mediation: no interrupting!" Graeme said.
"But I am the Commander!"interjected Sally, "It is my job to protect the spaceship! I was just zapping the aliens with the light sabre, and Amir started trying to grab it from me. So I ran away."
Graeme: "Okay, so how did you feel when that happened?"
Sally: "Really bad."
Graeme: "Now, Amir, it is your turn to tell what happened."
Amir: "Well, like Sally said, except that I got the stick from the bushes and I had it. Then when the aliens attacked, she just grabbed it from me and said that she had to fight the aliens because she is the Commander."
Graeme: How did that make you feel?
Amir: I was really mad!
Graeme: So it sounds like you both feel pretty bad about this!  Sally, can you think of anything you could have done differently?
Sally: Well, I guess I could have asked Amir for the stick.
Graeme: Amir? What could you have done differently?
Amir: I guess I didn't need to try grab it from her.
Graeme: Okay, how do you think you could solve this problem?
Amir: Well, sorry Sally. How about you get the stick to fight the aliens, and then it will be my turn to be the Commander, and I can have the stick?
Sally: Okay. I'm sorry I just grabbed the stick. That sounds like a good idea.
Graeme: Are you both okay with Amir's idea?
Amir and Sally: Yes. Can we go play now?
Graeme: Here's the stick, Sally. Good mediation, you two!
Amir and Sally scamper off

"Sticks and stones may break my bones, but names will always hurt me"

making up rules

Excluding

property rights - snow forts

soccer, 4-square - cheating

lying 

stealing

Meeting

Peer Mediators

A Garden of Children

When the grey, rainy days of March start eating away at the snow, and glimpses of brown earth and grass start appearing, my hunger to get outside in the garden becomes overwhelming, and I find myself sometimes raking away at frozen ground with frozen hands, desperately searching for signs of life. Tiny green shoots of ground elder give me a stab of happiness, even though I know that in a few months I will be waging war with these same shoots. Usually, after this first session in the garden, I vow to wait until I can work the soil a bit, until the first tiny leaves are unfolding on the bushes and until the points of various perennials are pushing through, before getting out again.

In the meantime, I dream and plan and try to visualize the next stage of my garden. I order bulbs from Vesey's, visit the seed store to discuss organic fertilizers for the tiny patch of shady lawn and when the rain takes a break, get out with my secaturs  and start cutting back on the shrubs that are threatening to take over. It is as I clip away at the unruly growth, allowing the shape of the bush to emerge, that the similarity between my approach to gardening and to educating children suggests itself. I think about what all children (and gardens) need to flourish....lots of love, healthy food and stimulation (sun, water and nutrients) in a safe environment.  But they also, like gardens, need gentle guidance to encourage them to discover their own capacities and inner strengths while acknowledging and working on their weaknesses.

As I look back at the development of my teaching philosophy, I think how it parallels the development of this garden that I have been privileged to tend for the past 13 years. As the garden has matured over the years, so have the children that I have been teaching and so has my teaching approach . Each year my garden surprises me with the juxtaposition of colours and shapes, as do my students.

So here's a description of my gardening style:
Although when I moved into my house, I spent a fair amount of time planning the bare bones of the garden (and even engaged a garden designer for a brief time), my approach to planning since then has been characterized by a lot of mooning around in the springtime dreaming, punctuated by numerous visits to nurseries where I often buy things on impulse. Serendipitous finds come from plant exchanges, gifts from friends and sometimes "volunteers" which appear unbidden in the springtime.  I make sure that my soil is good, enriched with bone meal, manure and compost, but my one experience with the scientific method (a $4 soil-testing kit) resulted in my not applying lime when I should have, and has not been repeated.

I prune carefully and religiously, but sometimes have to push myself to do the really hard pruning  required by roses and other shrubs. When I do, I find myself amply rewarded, so I am getting better at it with time. I weed enthusiastically, but perhaps not regularly enough, and I am always looking for ways to minimize the weeding (mulch, close planting etc). I enjoy exposing sensitive plants to the sun and air, rooting out the creepers and weeds that threaten to choke them.

I love watering the garden in the evenings during a dry spell, and often imagine the plants sucking in the moisture as children soak in knowledge.

Sometimes, plants self-seed, and show up in places they are not supposed to. I have a hard time pulling them up, so my garden may have bachelor's buttons growing in the middle of the patio, or forget-me-nots in the lawn. I don't allow all of them, but generally, I love the random effect. And since I don't always plan every last detail, there are other surprises in the garden that show up as the season goes on -  unplanned groupings of colours and shapes that complement each other or a shady nook surrounded by ferns and white hydrangeas that is very inviting on a hot day.

Generally, my garden is a slightly overgrown tumult of colours and greenery, a place where birds, cats and children play together (usually without grief) and where people can socialize on a warm summer evening. It is a source of delight as it grows and fills in. Each plant or bush has its place, and its season to shine, and all are loved in spite of their spikes or thorns. I like to think that my classroom, and indeed HIS, parallels this garden:  the underlying planning is there, but it is never so rigid as to disallow the spontaneous happenings and discoveries that create excitement and a love of learning; "sensitive plants" are given extra care, while the "weeds" of distraction or whatever else is choking them are pulled up; there is lots of cross-fertilization of ideas as teachers, parents and children talk to each other.  My classroom is a slightly eccentric, but stimulating place, in which children thrive with a combination of enrichment, love and encouragement, with a little bit of judicious pruning thrown in from time to time.




The trend in education in North America in recent years, lead by a drive to standardize and make schools more "accountable" has resulted in more testing which in turn creates an atmosphere in which the "right" answer is paramount. An environment where students and teachers alike are  under pressure to perform to a set standard, and where there are real, life altering consequences for failure,  is not conducive to experimentation, spontanaiety or creativity...indeed the type of garden it would create would be

Theme in the Olds

Vignettes:
The day starts with a circle on the floor. The teacher gathers the children, and begins by reading from a the current novel, ....by Karen Hesse, a fictionalized diary of a cabin boy from Captain Cook's voyage around the South Pacific. Each entry starts with a log of the latitude and longitude, so the globe is brought down, and a child volunteers to find the location, sparking a discussion about the distance travelled since the previous entry.

The children are researching some historical background for the stories they will be working on.  The week before, they had visited Pier 21, Canada's Immigration museum, which tells the stories of the thousands of European immigrants who arrived in Canada by ship during the first part of the 20th century.. During their visit, they learned about some of the experiences of typical immigrants, including the types of things they might bring with them, conditions on board the ships, and events in the world that made Canada seem like a beacon of stability and prosperity. While there, they were getting ideas for  a setting, characters and a plot for the story that they would be writing and were encouraged to ask questions of the volunteer dosuns who showed them around. After returning to school, each child chose a geographical area, and a precipitating event that caused their character to leave Europe.

Today, they are researching the events causing their characters' departure from Europe. One group is researching WWII, another the rise of Naziism in the 30's, the Soviet takeover of the Baltic states and still another the British Home Children. Books are spread around the classroom as children search for answers to the questions they have brainstormed together. Coloured slips of paper mark places in books  with information worth a second look; children show passages or pictures to others they think might be interested and everyone is jotting down facts in charts in their "theme" notebooks. The charts have been drawn up based on the questions generated during the class brainstorm.

During this time, the teacher is moving around the classroom, sitting at each table, helping children fill in the gaps in their charts, finding new information, and in some cases reading aloud difficult passages. She is gently reminding some children that conversation needs to be about the topic at hand (not telling them not to talk) or redirecting others back to their assigned task. Occasionally she reminds the class that in a few days, they will be starting to write their stories and that they will need as much background information as possible.

The next day, a parent, who is also an immigrant from Central America, comes in to talk to the class about her experiences moving to a new country - the difficulties she faced, the reasons for coming, and what she learned throughout the experience. The children take notes in their theme notebooks, and ask questions which show that they have been thinking about the issue. After the parent has left, the class discuss their reactions to the presentation "What struck you most about the difficulties Maria faced?" "What can you use for your story from Maria's experiences?". The children then write thank you letters in which they are encouraged to reflect on what they have learned, and what from the presentation they will incorporate into their stories.

After this, the teacher judges that it is time for the children to start writing their stories. Even though they have not finished all the research she had planned, she wants to maintain their interest, and capitalize on the freshness of the information already gathered. In a circle, the children share a little bit about their characters, and the events that have made it necessary for them to emigrate, before heading to their table to start writing. The teacher reminds them about writing good paragraphs, and about using quotation marks for dialogue. At this stage, she  requests quiet, explaining that it is time for  concentration and thinking. Some children immediately start writing, while others stare blankly out the window. The teacher waits for a few minutes and then softly asks each of the blocked individuals if they need help - sometimes a suggestion for where to start, or just chatting with the child about the causes of their characters' departure is enough to get them writing. After about 25 minutes the teacher notices that one child is still fiddling around with her pencil, and hasn't written anything. She stops the class, and compliments the children for their hard work (thinking is hard work, too). One child volunteers to read his opening paragraph out loud; others join in  for an impromtu sharing session which lasts about 10 minutes, before everyone gets back to work. By this time, the last hold-out has had an idea, and is soon busily scribbling.

By snack time, the children have written various amounts, but all leave the classroom excited and chatting about their characters. Some will ask if they can continue to write at home (of course!)

Introduction

It seems like a regular school day in dreary, late November but as soon as the visitor walks through the front doors of Halifax Independent School in the mid-morning, she is aware of the muted buzz of excitement that seems to emanate from the very walls of the building. Two 4 year olds burst from a classroom and begin a charge down the hall until they are aware of the visitor in the lobby, whereupon they slow to a suppressed run and approach the front desk, hand-in-hand and bursting with importance.

“Valerie, we have a message for you” and they hand her a piece of paper. Valerie, seated at the front desk,  helps the children read the note out loud, “Please give us 2 sheets of red paper” and goes to fetch the paper from the storeroom. She gives it to the children, and they begin walking sedately back to their class.

From above, the sounds of children singing emanate from the music room, and across the hall tables and benches in the lunchroom are being moved to create an open space. The “Work-a-ma-jig”, a kinetic sculpture designed and made by all the students in the school a few years before, is lit up and ready for action. Walking down the hall, the visitor sees glass doors covered with cloth and signs saying “No Pirnts Aloud”. This is no ordinary day at Halifax Independent – it is Fair Day!

In the late morning, parents of the four year olds – “the Littles” will begin arriving for their Fair presentation, and throughout the afternoon each class will treat their parents and other interested people to a presentation about the “theme” they have been studying for the past 2 months.

Let’s take a walk around and visit these presentations; Fair is the culmination of the children’s research, the showcasing of their knowledge and skills and a chance for them to hone their presentation skills.

We’ll start in the lunchroom with the Littles who are seated in a row on two benches with pirate hats on, and who sing an action song before getting up and going to fetch their own parents. Taking them by the hand, each child leads their willing parents into the classroom which has been transformed into the various levels of the ocean – one corner represents the intertidal zone, another the depths etc. The parents gather around their children, who are in groups of two or three, intently listening to them talk one by one about the sea creature that they have fashioned out of papier mache, occasionally asking them a question or two. The children proudly show them the paintings they have done, the writing on the labels and signs, the sketches and brainstorms that have been part of their "study". In a few minutes, at a signal from the teacher, the parents move on to hear another group.

Moving along the hallway, we visit a middles class in which one whole corner has been built up into a “rocky” ledge around which various little tide pool animals are perched (the giggles let us know that these are in fact children). Two  girls with a papier mache microphone enter and begin  to interview the creatures, who stand up and one by one tell the enraptured audience all about their unique habits and characteristics. A song with original words written by the children finishes up the formal presentation, whereupon the parents are invited to view the exhibits of research booklets, models and artwork. In another Middles class, a teacher plays the role of very careless boater while students point out all the environmental mistakes she is making while telling the audience why it is a problem and what we can all do about it.

Upstairs, the Olds are engaging parents in a spirited game of “Are you smarter than an Old?” with the MC firing off obscure facts about oceans and then asking “Believe it?” or “Believe it not?”. Naturally the Olds win handily. Thereupon, the students talk about the research they did preparing to write historical “novels” about a child emigrating by sea to Canada from various parts of the world and read selected passages from their self-published books. A beautiful map of the classical world with scenes from Homer’s Odyssey painted by the children with the help of a mural artist adorns the walls, as do other framed art works. Later, the parents are invited to buy their children’s books, with the proceeds donated to the Ecology Action Centre to help with their campaign to set up and maintain Marine Protected Areas.

In the Elders, children dressed as various adult “types” are attending a public meeting to discuss the fate of an area of shoreline which is under threat from development. A large model of the wetland, labelled with the various habitats, is in the centre of the room. Everyone gets their say: environmentalists, the developer, contractors, residents; even  the various creatures native to the area make presentations. In the end, the group votes to preserve the area.

The visitor overhears a parent say, "Wow, he's only 6 and he's using words like 'bathypelagic'!"    As she mills about listening to the parents’ comments, seeing the proud glow on children’s faces, viewing the artistically presented displays and listening in on little “experts” answering complex questions on their areas of expertise, she wonders, “How did all this happen? Why?” 

The 90's - my first decade

My first contact with Dalhousie University School was sending International speakers to do presentations with the children. I was always intrigued with its "alternative" reputation, but had never actually set foot within it...until one day, after I had finished my Masters of Education, left the IEC and was looking for the next job, I spotted a small box ad in the newspaper. Teaching jobs in Nova Scotia were few and far between in those days, and indeed after my 8 years at the IEC I feared I would never have a regular classroom job again. Therefore, I wrote a very careful cover letter and polished up my resume to  highlight my "alternative" qualifications...my cross-cultural experience, my experience with adapting curricula, and my belief in a hands-on, discovery approach to learning. I was thrilled when I was invited in for an interview, and prepared more than for any other job I had applied for (can't remember how!). I did not read the Book beforehand (this was before the internet, and I don't think I even knew it existed) and barely knew what "theme studies" entailed, but probably did go and dust off my copies of "Open Education" and "The Integrated Day in the Primary School".

The big day arrived, and I was interviewed in the upstairs main lobby of the Education building, seated on modern looking armchairs, by a group of 3 women who consisted of Ruth Gamberg, Heather B. (a teacher) and a parent from the school committee whose name I have forgotten. All I remember of the interview is that I felt very comfortable with these women, and felt that we had had a good discussion. I know I spoke about cuisenaire rods, and how great they were for teaching basic math concepts (I was fresh from home-schooling 5 year old Winnie) and later when I discovered how central they were to the math programme at DUS, I believed that this is what got me the job (I should check on that!). After the interview, I wanted the job more than ever and prepared for an agonizing wait for a phone call. I did not call or write to thank the interviewers for interviewing me...I just crossed my fingers and in the end,  I didn't have to wait too long. When Ruth called, she started out with, "Well I have bad news and good news..." and my heart sank. The bad news was that they had a candidate who had been working in the school, but who was British, and could not be hired until they had established that there were no suitable Canadian candidates. The good news was that she was pregnant, expecting in May, and would be on maternity leave for the fall term. So Ruth asked if I was interested in a short term position in the Youngs class to replace Cate A. I don't believe I thought too much about it before I said "yes", as I was very excited to be back in the classroom, and I knew that a foot in the door was the next best thing to full time job.

I spent several days volunteering with Cate in her classroom that spring, and remember being continually amazed that all sorts of things that I had only read about in my radical literature  were happening in the school - things like 5 year olds running around doing polls on various topics and then graphing the results (while many other activities were simultaneously happening), stuffed animals taking on elaborate roles in various scenarios devised by the children (weddings were very popular during those early years) and a atmosphere of respect and trust that was at all levels. One memory stands out - Cate and I took the children outside to the Quad, the grassy area in the centre of some of Dalhousie's oldest buildings, including the Administration Building and the Faculty Club. It was Earth Day, and we were cleaning up garbage - a typical rainy April day with daffodils brightening up the gloom. A roving photographer from the Daily News came by and took a picture of the children, and then of course wanted to know all their names. I was shocked that Cate did not know the last names of any of the children and had to go inside to get a list; this shocked and amused me because my experiences with registers and daily attendance in my previous schools meant that my pupils' full names would have been ingrained. I had a lot to learn!  At this time,  I got to know Heather, who was teaching the Middles, and Janet N.L., the Headteacher who was also the Olds teacher and I felt very lucky to have such a supportive team to work with in the fall.

What did this tiny theme studies school look like when I first started? Located at one end of the first floor of the “temporary” post-war Education building, a low ivy-covered structure which graced Dalhousie’s central quad,  2 small classrooms and 1 tiny classroom along with a tiny office, kitchen and library were arranged around the “lunchroom” which doubled as a central meeting spot. A cloakroom had doors which led outside to the small fenced playground, which had a set of swings, a few wooden structures to climb on and the Playhouse which had been built during the World of Work year. The  playground was surrounded by lovely mature trees, and set against the grey stone buildings, it had a very peaceful, academic air. The Youngs’ classroom had a playhouse built in one corner, known as the Wendy House, but the majority of the furnishings were shabby cast-offs from various university departments. Broken tiles, ancient blackboards and grimy paint characterize the decorating style, but the whole was enlivened by the children’s art work displayed, the in-progress projects lying around and the brightly coloured toys and books everywhere.

Who were these 37 students whose parents were paying good money to attend this not very prepossessing looking establishment? About 1/3 of them were the children of faculty and staff of Dalhousie University. The rest were from the larger community – in those days there was a sizable chunk from the fairly newly established Buddhist community and more than a sprinkling from the arts community. There were “hippie” kids and the children of doctors and lawyers, new immigrant children and scions of Halifax business owners. Parent meetings and social occasions were always lively affairs.

Not only was the school located within the Department of Education, teachers were considered faculty and paid by the University (tuition fees covered salaries and the university covered the rest of the expenses), and the school was administered by a School Committee consisting of Education professors, parents and teachers. This close relationship was widening by the time I started as Dalhousie stopped training elementary teachers (who had previously spent considerable time observing and volunteering in the school) and it seemed less and less relevant to the secondary education students who came in batches of 5 at a time to observe.

In my first full year, I taught the Olds – about 12 grades 3 and 4 students. The theme was Nova Scotia and that year we studied fisheries, the Mik’maq, and Black Loyalists. One of our biggest projects was researching real Black Loyalists, making marionettes of our characters and writing and performing a puppet show. Another Fair presentation had the children debating what could be done to save the Nova Scotia fishery – several years before the moratorium on the cod fishery, these children were calling for drastic reductions in fish quotas.  On a typical day, you might find a group pouring through books researching Loyalists, another in the lunchroom working with a parent sewing their puppets’ costumes and another painting backdrops for the puppet show. Children are chattering to each other, but generally they are focused and on task – they know that their parents will be watching their show in a few weeks, and as well as the subject matter, they still have to master the art of puppetry!

At snack time, the children would eat quickly in the lunchroom and pour out the cloakroom door into the small playground sandwiched between the Education building and the Faculty Club next door, shaded by couple of large elm trees. There they would play on the swings, climb on the 2 platforms and chase around through the playhouse (built a few years earlier by the children during “World of Work” theme). Stuffed animals played a big role, and animal “weddings” were frequently staged between various children’s stuffies whose personalities were well known, and quite distinct from their owners.

The month of December was largely devoted to the production of 3 short plays which were written and/or  adapted by the children, and performed in one of the larger classrooms in the Education building. All the props and backdrops were made by the children, and the stage was demarcated by a line of jury-rigged stage lights on the floor. All the parents squashed themselves in to the room, and the heat would be intense as the children acted, sang and danced, reaching a climax when the whole school gathered on the stage for the finale song. Afterwards, the children would bask in the glow of appreciation from their audience at a pot-luck dessert back in the lunchroom.

Even before I arrived at the school, change was in the air. The shifting focus from elementary to only secondary education meant that most professors were no longer interested in theme studies or elementary education; but the real death knell was issued at the beginning of 1991 when the Nova Scotia government decided to “rationalize” the universities, and Education departments at Dalhousie and Saint Mary’s were closed. Most  teacher training in the province was centred at Mount Saint Vincent University.

Parents and teachers alike were upset at the prospect of losing this tight knit community of students, parents and teachers, and a small group began investigating the options around moving off campus and becoming independent.

The Very Beginnings - the 1970's

HIS was born in the early seventies as a part of an education renaissance, the more extreme manifestations of which saw the education system as a tool of oppression by capitalist society, a way of entrenching class divisions and ensuring a pool of minimally educated working class drones to feed the machinery of capitalism.  Thinkers such as Ivan Illych, Paolo Friere, John Holt, and AS Neill proposed alternatives which were aimed at unlocking the human potential within each child, developing analytic skills and creativity, thus breaking down class divisions and contributing to a more just, equal society. So the “free school“ movement was born with its “open classrooms”, and  child-centred philosophies.   

Dalhousie University's  Department of Education operated out of a large house on Oxford St., and trained elementary and secondary teachers. It was not insulated from this intellectual ferment: somewhere  during this time, Dalhousie hired Dr. Edgar Friedenberg, author of the Vanishing Adolescent and Coming of Age in America, and appointed Dr. Doris Dyke as  Dean of Education. Dr. Dyke later became the first woman professor at a United Church theological college where she taught educational ministry and feminist theology, but during her time at Dalhousie, she had the foresight to establish a small school, and give the responsibility for it to Anthony Barton, a newly hired professor. The year was 1974, and the  "Dalhousie University Experimental School" gave new meaning to the term "lab school" as it was housed in a 1960's Skinner Psychology Laboratory, complete with a one-way mirror so that children could be observed. Its purpose was to teach Bachelor of Education students to work with children, most of whom were the children of Dalhousie faculty.

The curriculum, which was developed by Barton, and his brother Charles Barton, an educator from Singapore was called "To the West" and was inspired by the writings of Marshall McLuhan. Anthony Barton, author of "Didactic Tales" and "On the Methods of Famous Teachers" was also influenced by the Dalton Plan, an educational philosophy with its roots in the turn of the last century thinking about education. The Dalton Plan was created by Helen Parkhurst, and aimed to achieve a balance between the needs of the community and the talents and needs of the individual student. She developed this progressive philosophy during her early years sharing a classroom with Maria Montessori and later on at the Children's University School which she founded in Dalton Mass. This philosophy lives on today in the Dalton School of New York, and a scattering of schools around the world, particularly in the Netherlands and the Czech Republic. The Plan has 3 parts as its foundation: The House, the Assignment and Lab. Each child is part of a House according to their age, and enters into a contract to complete an assignment. The lab refers to the interaction between the child and the various specialists who guide them in their examination of each theme or assignment.

The tiny D.U.E.S did not directly adopt this system, but its curriculum did involve "lots of physical activity and discussion". To teach themselves about evolution, for example, the children created a tunnel into which one entered into "the chamber of primordial ooze at the beginning and crawled along the tunnel (your parents in tow, if they were brave enough) and passed through the Age of Sharks, the Dinosaur Era and emerged in the end into the Present Day." (Barton) Initially there was one teacher, who was followed by two graduates of the B.Ed programme, Anne Everts and Gail Waddington, who shared one position. They were later joined by Gail's husband Marcus.  By 1976 there were about 25 students, divided into 3 groups called Young Ones, Middle Ones and Old Ones, and there were annual plays, often satirical in nature written by Barton and featuring the personalities of the children. One  character  popped up constantly throughout a Play and uttered its one line, "Batteries not included" - obviously based on a very active (perhaps ADHD) child.  Another of Barton's ideas was the "Fairs", where students presented their work to parents and others each Friday afternoon. During these afternoons, the students  taught the audience (parents and B.Ed students)  and  that became like an examination. After 6 weeks there was a "Super Fair" which went all day. The teachers displayed everything people had made so it was a lot of work for them. The children learned good presentation skills, and gained confidence -- but I'm pretty sure the teachers were exhausted! Finding an audience for these weekly events must have been difficult too, although with a steady stream of B.Ed students who were required to be there that may not have been an issue.

Marcus Waddington described Barton as a genius with "incredible vision", who had very high standards and expected a lot of the children. Among his other talents, he was an amateur architect, and built a room within the laboratory for the Old Ones which resembled a monastic cell. He would not approve of our present system of having the children write their own plays, as he felt they did not have the skills to do it properly, and would learn from good writing (his own). One of the plays was based on Gerald Durrell's "Talking Parcel" which had been read to the children.  Waddington remembers a couple of activities in particular: creating a "Paper City" where the children would send constant memos to each other, thus simulating a bureaucracy gone wild. Another time, they had "Machines Week" when all kinds of machines, including audio-visual and other media were brought in and explored. This was very exciting for the children, who generally learned without the benefit of audio-visual aids, and the changes observed in their behaviours were thought to prove some of McLuhan's basic principles.  Waddington left the school after only a couple of years to join the public system where he was paid almost double the salary, and regrets that the demands of raising a family made it necessary. He says that he had some wonderful relationships with his students and their families at the Experimental school, and learned much from Anthony Barton. So much in fact that when he was later granted a sabbatical from the school board where he was teaching, he went back to Dalhousie to work on his M.Ed with Barton.

Barton arranged regular meetings with the parents to discuss the issues of the time, and states that parents were very involved in the activities of  the school. As he says, "Some found the curriculum innovative and interesting, while others wanted more direct instruction for their children in the three R's." When he moved on to other responsibilities at the end of the decade, it seems the parents and the School Committee were ready for a change, and tasked Winnie Kwak, the newly hired teacher, with developing a curriculum which would allow the children to learn more about their own environment. Thus the Nova Scotia theme was developed. 

"What does a pupil do when given, as he* is given by the Dalton Laboratory Plan, responsibility for the performance for such and such work? Instinctively he seeks the best way of achieving it. Then having decided, he proceeds to act upon that decision… Discussion helps to clarify his ideas and also his plan of procedure. When he comes to the end, the finished achievement takes on all the splendor of success. It embodies all he had thought and felt and lived during the time it has taken to complete. This is real experience. It is culture achieved through individual development and through collective co-operation. It is no longer school---it is life." ~ Helen Parkhurst in Education on the Dalton Plan, 1922

"What does a pupil do when given, as he* is given by the Dalton Laboratory Plan, 

My Early Experiences with Education

Born into the height of the post-war baby boom, I attended public schools in the east end of Ottawa in the 50’s and 60’s; the smell of stencil fluid from Gestetner machines

on damp copies still evokes vivid memories of quiet classrooms of 35 plus children, all working away at the same task. Penmanship, good spelling and circling the right answer were rewarded; teacher/student interaction was limited to the teacher asking questions and a smallish number of children waving their hands frantically hoping to be chosen. Being chosen too many times however could get one labelled “Teacher’s Pet” – an epithet which for some time I mistakenly thought was a compliment. We were only dimly aware that there were a large number of children who never put their hands up; as we grew older we realized many of them were no longer in school with us.

It was the age of the “Reading Group” – reading ability groupings of children with cute names like  Chickadees, Hummingbirds,  Ravens and Turkeys. We actually had inkwells in our desks, and in grade 5 were privileged to be given straight pens which we learned to use. Not many of us mastered them however, and were relieved when we were allowed to use new-fangled  ballpoint pens. When I tell children now about nibs and inkwells, they look at me in disbelief; however, I still have some of my scrawly, blot-strewn notebooks to prove it. Up until this point, school was largely squirm-inducing boredom – its main saving grace was the long outdoor play times, when we organized our own baseball games, played singing ball and skipping games and established a strict pecking order through fighting, running and other informal competitions. However, I was very lucky that mine was a very small elementary school, whose principal and Grade5/6 teacher, Mr. MacLaren, eschewed the strap (fairly universal at the time), encouraged us to make up plays and perform them for the class and taught problem solving in math – he was definitely ahead of his time!

In Middle School, we learned grammar, (how to parse sentences), the facts of life (according to Kotex), and how to be good homemakers ("Homemaking is an art, the skills of which, to a mere male, seem to be part and parcel of a woman's make up. But she is not born to these skills, and must be trained...This we do in the Ottawa Public Schools - and do very well." W.T.MacSkimming, Home Economics Manual). I also learned about the effects of streaming, as each grade was divided into 8 sections, each one of which was known to us for the ability level of its students. I’m pretty sure the learning opportunities for the “C-stream” children were much more limited.

By the time I finished high school and first year university where I enrolled in an Honours Math programme (because it seemed to be the only thing I was good at), I was ready to escape formal education, and took a year off to explore the world – it was the early 70’s and what I discovered outside my cozy middle class existence changed me profoundly. I set off to explore Europe, hitchhiking and backpacking around, but quickly settled in a little town in the Highlands of Scotland. I worked at a couple of low wage jobs, including as a housemaid in a geriatric hospital. This came to an untimely end, when I managed to wind the cord of the Matron’s TV around the floor polisher (which weighed more than me), yanking it to the floor. I’ll never forget the Matron’s words when she fired me, “I don’t think you are suited to this type of work… you might do better working in a shop.” During this time, I became part of a sub-culture of working class young people, many of whom had left school at the minimum age of 14 and were forced into menial jobs, but whose intelligence and grasp of world affairs impressed me. My ability to flee this lack of opportunity, back to my university place, brought home the effects of the class system and made a huge impression on me.

When I came back to university, I dropped all my math courses and switched to experimental psychology – I was fascinated by the workings of the human brain and all the ways it can be tricked, moulded and manipulated.

I think I had always wanted to be a teacher; as a child I forced/bribed my younger brothers into playing endless games of  school, and even taught one of them to read (thereby probably contributing to some of his later behavioural problems in school). However, it was a serendipitous event that found me enrolled in the B.Ed programme at Acadia University in the fall of 1974. The coursework seemed boring and irrelevant – however I fell in with a group of other disaffected education students and along with organizing protests, sit-ins and hunger strikes we also were introduced to the writings of  educational thinkers such as Ivan Illich,  John Holt, A.S. Neill, Neil Postman. We formed a tight knit group who met frequently, sometimes with one of the younger faculty members, and had several weekend retreats where we discussed these "radical" ideas. These group discussions became more influential for me than anything that was taught in the courses. 

 My first teaching job, again a serendipitous appointment in August after a job in Scotland fell through, was in Great Whale River, a fly-in community in Northern Quebec, teaching Inuit and Cree children. Here I was introduced to the poverty and social issues facing aboriginal peoples, as well as being thrust into the middle of the great language debate, having arrived in Quebec just after the passage of the infamous Bill 101 which declared among other things that English should not be used on signs and all children should be educated in French unless they had a parent educated in an English school in Quebec. This did not go down well among Quebec’s native people, who were also in the middle of negotiating the James Bay agreement…I arrived into a highly divided community, with 4 distinct language and cultural groups (Inuit, Cree, French-speaking provincial employees and English-speaking Federal employees). It was also divided physically with the runway neatly separating the whites from the natives: on the one side, bungalows with electricity, phones and running water and on the other side overcrowded, ramshackle wooden houses with none of the above.

My first classroom was one of those wooden houses in the “village” with a large oil stove in the middle. I had about 15 Inuit and Cree non-English speaking 7 year olds – it was their first year of English, and the first year without a native-speaking assistant in the classroom. The Inuit and Cree children couldn’t talk to each other either, except to say things like “Eskimos eat dog”, so language became a major issue. I realized that I didn’t have a clue how to teach reading (my education degree dealt almost entirely with theory, and gave me virtually no practical strategies for classroom management or how to teach anything), and all the children were non-readers – I was expected to use the Ginn 360 series of readers,  “The Dog Next Door” all about a lovely white suburban family. Since I didn’t know what I was doing, I fell back on how I was taught and wrote vocabulary lists on the board, used a pointer and, horror of horrors, divided the children into ability groups for reading. I thought I was being very modern by naming the groups after local animals that in no way implied speed or slowness. However, the whole thing fell apart the day a few months in when we encountered the word “park” in the reader; even with the picture in the book of a treed, grassy space, I could not make them understand. So that was the end of the Dog Next Door, and the beginning of my theme teaching. The children wrote journals everyday (for months, some of them wrote “Today I had bannock and tea for breakfast.” every day), we played ESL games, wrote stories using the “Language Experience” approach and built models. I still remember the papier mache beaver dam we worked on for weeks!  I found the Creeways series of books about life in the north, but there were far too few of them, so we wrote our own books. 

Since my classroom was isolated from the main school and was down in the “village”, no one from administration ever came down and I got away with ditching all the textbooks. I have no idea how much the children learned that year – it seems that most of them learned to read a little, and I think their English became more fluent, but I doubt that they met too many of the benchmarks for grade 2 (since it was a federal school, all of which were gradually being fazed out, it’s possible we didn’t even have benchmarks).

My second year, I taught kindergarten, Inuit children in the morning and Cree in the afternoon. I was blessed with two wonderful native speaking classroom assistants who taught me so much about their respective cultures, and helped me adapt local folk tales into little dramas the children would act out. It was here that I learned more about the innate differences between boys and girls – it didn’t matter that guns and weapons were banned from the classroom. For the boys, any block or toy would substitute, and whenever a flock of geese or other noisy birds flew over, regardless of what was going on in the classroom, all the little boys would race to the window with whatever gun substitute was closest to hand, shooting wildly at them. 

It was at this time that my good friend Joanne from the rebel group at Acadia joined the staff, and the two of us banded together, starting clubs and drama groups. Our first  production was a full scale musical of“The Wizard of Oz”, chosen because I had a record of the songs, and slightly adapted to the culture. The next year’s production “Kung Fu and Cowboys” was written by the children and totally reflected the local culture: the movies shown weekly at the Rec Hall. As time went on, Joanne and I felt more and more at odds philosophically with the rest of the staff; quite a feat in a teaching environment which definitely attracted oddballs and loners, one of whom used to brag about napping in the classroom with his feet on his desk while the children “worked”!

In my third year, I was teaching grade 4, up in the big school on the other side of the runway. By this time I was receiving a little more attention from the administration, and was told that my classroom was too messy, I needed to follow the curriculum more closely etc. When the James Bay agreement was signed, and the Inuit and Cree took over their own school boards, I took the opportunity to transfer to another Federal school in Nova Scotia. Three years of “isolation” were enough, and a Mi’kmaq reserve in rural Cape Breton seemed like the height of civilization!

However this is the year I learned about “mainstreaming” children with special needs; I had a grade 4 class of about 20 children – about 10 of them were bright nine year olds who were motivated and fun to teach. The others ranged in age from 12 to 16, and had an array of difficulties such as Down’s Syndrome, what I now recognize as undiagnosed autism and every known behavioural problem. One 14 year old girl came about once a week to school, another teenage boy who today would probably be labelled with “Oppositional Defiant Disorder” used to make a great show of coming into the classroom with a wad of chewing tobacco stuffed in his cheek and when I asked him to get rid of it would spit it into the waste basket from across the room, often missing it completely. Another boy, whose father was a prominent local politician, called me an unprintable name whenever I asked him to do anything he didn’t like; this was echoed by the Down’s Syndrome child constantly… When I tried to speak with his parents, I was told that this type of language was the local dialect and reflected Mik’maq culture. I also learned about how the politics in the community can affect school atmosphere. I was unfortunate enough to arrive just after the long-serving non-native principal was fired by the band council and replaced with a prominent (but not local) Mik’maq educator. A petition was started by the other faction, and the first principal was reinstated; to make a long story short, there were two principals that year, but neither seemed able to take charge.

Another important lesson I learned from this year; how not to set up a student government/peer mediation team. Someone had an idea of how to tackle the discipline problems in the school – make the students responsible for monitoring each other’s behaviour, on the theory, which I think is fundamentally sound, that if you want to change a child’s behaviour, give them more responsibility and put them in charge of something. However, having older children (some with violent tendencies) barging into my classroom and dragging children out to "question" them started to give me the feeling of teaching under a despotic government with the habit of "disappearing" the opposition. A few of these children did let the power go to their heads, and after some children were hurt, the programme was stopped.

After this difficult year, I resigned from the Department of Indian Affairs and Northern Development and took a break from teaching for a couple of years. My year at Eskasoni had been positive in many respects: I had the privilege of teaching next to and getting to know some excellent educators : Sister Dorothy Moore and Murdena Marshall, people whose paths I would cross later on in the multicultural milieu in Halifax.

 My next job was with CUSO; a two year contract as part of the TESL programme teaching English in Nigeria. I was sent to a boys boarding school in a medium-sized town called Pankshin,  Plateau State. In addition to teaching English literature to the secondary school boys, I was also asked to teach in a staff primary school situated on the compound. By my second year there, I was the Headteacher of the Staff School, by virtue of being the only teacher on staff with an education degree (indeed a degree of any kind). Here I learned a multitude about cross-cultural issues, about running a school with few resources and no trained teachers and about the impact on a culture of an education system which does not reflect that culture at all. Nigeria inherited the British education system and the Cambridge examinations which it applied to its secondary schools with little or no adaptation. As a result, students who started learning English in first year of secondary school were expected to write the same type of exams at the end of their 6 years of school as native-speaking English students.  Understandably, the pass rate was about 2%, and a great many bright  students missed out on going to university.  The statistics do not reflect the huge effect on a nation’s psyche caused by the sense of failure this engenders, and as a teacher, I can attest to the loss of many teachable moments when students are demanding strict adherence to the syllabus. Understandably, students do not want to “waste” time learning things that they will not be tested on – with such high stakes testing, it makes perfect sense.

Coming back to Canada after 2 years in a developing country was a difficult transition, particularly since it was a time (early 80’s) when teaching jobs, and employment in general were scarce.  I began working at the International Education Centre at Saint Mary’s University in Halifax, one of a network of Development Education Centres across Canada, funded by CIDA whose mission was to work with schools and the community to educate Canadians about global, multicultural and enviromental issues.  My first job there was as Speakers Bureau Co-ordinator, linking up international students and others from the developing world with classrooms and community groups around the province. Because it was not well known as a resource (and it was free!) we used to take groups of speakers on tours to schools in different regions, and  I spent a lot of time promoting the service and travelling to schools. One school I didn’t have to promote to, but which used lots of speakers was the tiny Dalhousie University School, an “alternative” school on Dalhousie campus. They made up in enthusiasm for what they lacked in numbers – sending a speaker for 12 or 13 children didn’t do much for our statistics (# of contacts), but the speakers always spoke highly of the children, their knowledge and curiosity. Later on I became Education Co-ordinator, and worked with teachers supporting their work on incorporating a more global perspective in their teaching.

By 1991, the International Education Centre along with all the other Development Education Centres had lost its CIDA funding when the government of the time changed its focus from educating Canadians about global issues to promoting Canada’s business ties with the developing world. Its legacy can be seen today in the generation of students of the 80’s who benefited from attending IEC programmes on topics ranging from liberation movements in Central America to World Food Day to Amazonian deforestation, whose teachers were inspired by Global Education for Teachers conferences and by two courses (Global History and Global Geography), now part of the Nova Scotia curriculum, which were promoted and nurtured by the IEC.

After obtaining an M.Ed from University of Ottawa, it seemed like fate when I was hired as a contract teacher at the same Dalhousie University School to which I had sent so many speakers in the 80’s. From the beginning, I was ecstatic to find a place which so closely reflected my personal philosophy of teaching – the theme approach with its integrated, discovery based, hands-on teaching.  Although I was hired to replace a teacher on maternity leave (in those days it was only four months), by the following year I was on a one year contract and the year after, I was Headteacher. With only 37 students at the time and 3 teachers, two of whom were part-time, this was not the mercurial rise it sounds like – I had found my niche, and no one else wanted the job.

Assessment at HIS

I have a confession to make: in my early years, I was an enthusiastic test-taker, test creator and test administrator. Since I, myself, was good at taking tests,  I made all kinds of ridiculous assumptions like: everyone enjoys taking tests; tests really measure what they are supposed to; if you don’t do well on tests, a) you are not working hard enough or b) you aren’t smart enough. I really believed that testing helps people improve by telling them what they are doing wrong; it worked for me, so why wouldn't it work for everyone? The idea of tests being used to compare schools and teachers, thereby creating a culture of test-driven teaching did not occur to me; for me tests were all about helping children learn and improve.

As a young teacher teaching primary school, I enjoyed designing tests, and administering them. Marking not so much... but I did love compiling all the results and building up records of test results that one could show to parents. Since my first job was teaching non-English-speaking Cree and Inuit children, I was fairly quickly doused with some cold realities, and had most of my assumptions overturned. I found out that most children don’t enjoy tests – a tiny proportion might, but a much larger group finds them extremely stressful, boring, or if they don’t do well (according to their standards), devastating to their self-esteem. Years of seeing children work very hard, but still do badly on tests, blew away my assumptions, - dismissing more than half the children as “not smart enough” just didn’t work. Going over tests and correcting them with the children, seemed to benefit the few who made just a few mistakes, but lost the majority who quickly became discouraged when confronted with many errors. I came to see that at the primary level at least, the negative emotional side effects of testing outweighed any benefits.

Later on teaching in a secondary school in Nigeria, I was exposed to yet more realities of an exam-based curriculum.  At the time, (early 80’s) Nigeria was following the Cambridge curriculum, complete with final school-leaving exams all set in Britain, with no worry about making them culturally appropriate or taking into account the fact that most students were exposed to English for the first time in secondary school. Our teaching was completely bound by the syllabus, and I got a good lesson in “teaching to the test”  and the human toll of this "high stakes" testing. It all seemed very futile when we realized that only about 2% of our students were destined to pass the exams; for those that passed the stakes were very high indeed (entrance to university, international scholarships). For the huge majority who failed, their options were much more limited - second tier colleges (including teachers college) or more commonly an end to formal education.

When I came to HIS I was overjoyed to find that formal tests were not part of the philosophy. This does not mean no assessment; on the contrary, keeping detailed notes on children, selecting representative samples of their work to keep in their portfolios, checking off their accomplishments on the extensive benchmarks which have been developed over the years, and frequent meetings with parents ensures that children’s progress is well monitored.  Curriculum meetings with parents familiarize them with the skill benchmarks for each level, as well as the topics to be covered. Fairs, and other presentations provide opportunities for all to see how the children have integrated what they have learned. As the children approach Middle School, feedback on their work becomes more formalized in the form of written comments, rubrics and exposure to occasional tests and quizzes. Infrequent Math tests are introduced, and the process of reviewing work, and strategies for effective test taking are seen as important as the test itself.  When students get to Middle School, testing is one part of the overall evaluation. Since the majority of our students enter high schools where testing is a large part of the curriculum, these tests are seen as essential preparation for the “real world”. All the tests given at HIS are designed by the teachers and based on the material covered as well as the benchmarks for the particular level.

After about 8 years at HIS, years in which its assessment procedures were  strengthened and formalized, I took an unpaid sabbatical leave for the school year 2001-02. During that time, I worked part-time in an English junior school, where I was introduced to a system so dependent on standardized testing that its effects were felt everywhere. Before we arrived, we were advised to check the League Tables (charts that report the average student scores on standardized tests for each school) to find a "good" school for our 15 year old daughter. After choosing an average Comprehensive school for her, we were startled to find that based on her age, she would be spending the entire year revising (reviewing and studying) for the "GCSE" exams - apparently all the new material and actual teaching had happened the year before. Then when I started teaching, I was immediately surrounded by anxious teachers, worried about the impact the results of the next round of standardized tests would have on themselves and their students. The Headteacher was worried about the funding implications for the school if their results should slip, or not improve enough. But the biggest effect of all this testing was the impact on the children themselves. My job was to teach two groups of children, both of whom had "failed" the Key Stage 2 (for 7 year olds) exams the year before. The first group consisted of 12 8 year olds, who had failed the literacy portion, largely because their reading skills were low. A small number of these children had some severe learning problems, but the majority were normal, bright 8 year olds who had taken a little longer than average to learn to read. It was easy to see the impact this streaming had had on their self-esteem and desire to learn. (exerpt from diaries)

Britain underwent an educational revolution in the 1980's under Margaret Thatcher, a revolution which reversed the "child-centred" education that had spawned Theme Studies,  and which culminated in the Education Reform Act of 1988. The drive for more accountability led to an increased reliance on standardized testing which became the stick for educators charged with raising standards. A similar process happened in North America - over the past 25 years, the "steroidal school reform movement" described by Andy Hargreaves (the 4th Way) has seen the stakes of standardized tests rise to a point where

How we can operate in a world without report cards or tests? How do you get the children to work without the reward of marks or grades? These are questions frequently asked by both parents and educators from other systems. The answer can be found in the HIS motto “Learning and Loving it” - the strength of the theme approach is that curiosity and excitement about learning is built in, modelled by the teachers and expected of the students. Each child is expected to do their best work, and is held to a high standard...but it is a standard unique to each child, made possible by the teachers’ in-depth knowledge of her/his abilities. Small classes ensure that teachers get to know each child and their strengths well. Children are also encouraged to know their own limits and strengths, and to get satisfaction from knowing their work is the best they can do. Comparing themselves with others is discouraged; the emphasis is on  constructive criticism and honest feedback, from both peers and teachers. External rewards such as grades pale in comparison to the praise children receive from their parents, teachers and peers for a job well done at Fair, or in class. Read Alouds, when children prepare and read a passage from a book they are reading, are a good example of  this type of feedback. It is not uncommon to hear a comment from a child listening to a reader such as, “I think you chose a good book, but you should have practiced a bit more - there were a lot of difficult words.” When a child or teacher identifies a weakness or a difficulty, strategies are put in place to help the child surmount it. Usually it can be done through grouping the child with others at a similar level. Sometimes extra practice work is given; occasionally a child will get extra help outside the classroom. 

 "Certain uses of achievement test results are termed "high stakes" if they carry serious consequences for students or for educators. Schools may be judged according to the school-wide average scores of their students. High school-wide scores may bring public praise or financial rewards; low scores may bring public embarrassment or heavy sanctions." (American Educational Research Association, Position Statement 2000) at that time only existed in other places, and had been eliminated in Ontario. Provincial Grade 13 exams had disappeared the year before I would have had to take them (1969?), and even when they were in existence, I don't remember high schools being compared on the basis of their student's results. 

How do we know that our students are performing as well as students in other school systems? Anecdotal evidence coming from children who have left the school tells us that our students often excel in other systems, and have an advantage in that they are motivated learners, who can take a leadership role when tackling group projects. Solid research skills, honed through years of theme studies, are utilized as students tackle essays and other independent projects. Nonetheless, there are times when it is useful to have an objective measure of our students’ basic skills. Hence, yearly graded spelling and reading assessments are done with each child, and this information is used to help the teachers decide who needs extra help, or some extension.




In 2011, teachers decided that it would also be useful to have an objective writing assessment tool that would inform our teaching, (and reassure ourselves that our teaching of writing was on track). Two separate writing tasks were developed; one for the upper elementary (Olds and Elders) and one for the lower elementary (Youngs and Middles).We worked over several days with experts to develop a rubric to use in evaluating samples of children’s writing, and then, with graded writing samples from other jurisdictions, the levels were calibrated to give an idea of where on the writing continuum students were. For example, the upper elementary rubric was divided into: Ideas, Organization, Voice, Word Choice, Sentence Fluency, Punctuation and Spelling. By rating  a piece of writing in each category on a scale from 1 - 6, we were able to refine our feedback to both students and parents. Each piece is rated independently by at least two teachers, which allows us to check our perceptions against those of our peers. When reporting to the students and their parents, the emphasis is always on what the children do well, the progress made since the last assessment, and what they need to work on next. Because each assessment requires at least a day and 5-6 teachers, it is done sparingly. However, the process of developing the rubric has been extremely valuable, for the teachers and the students.

When I started teaching, I believed absolutely in the virtue of tests as a means of measuring children’s progress. I was well started was on the road to seeing tests as an end in themselves. Now,  I think that the development and refinement of assessment   should be about improving tools to aid teachers in doing what they do best – encouraging children to love learning, and to bring their curiosity and critical thinking to every task they undertake, and to create work that is their very best.