One of those was Oliver DeMille, author of A Thomas Jefferson Education: Teaching a Generation of Leaders for the Twenty-First Century. We invited him to Austin and soon found ourselves sitting with him over iced tea in our living room.
“My family had great expectations for me,” he said, his long arms draped across the back of our couch. “I was sociable and inquisitive, and they lovingly believed I would excel at everything I tried. But I could not learn to read.”
His family had no television, and his parents read to each of their kids for hours. His parents were even teachers in his school. Still, he couldn’t read.
“The school district performed extensive testing and decided that I needed to be included in the special-education class for students with special learning needs. I was confused and worried as I left my classmates and joined this ‘special’ class.”
It wasn’t long until his father came to the door of the class and motioned for him to join him in the hall. “My dad took me by the hand, led me to the advanced class, opened the door, and simply said: ‘You belong in here.’ With those four words he changed my life.”
His parents continued to work with him at home, and through several years of difficulty and patience, Oliver became a fluent reader. This experience helped him develop one of his core beliefs.
“My father was the one who believed that no one should be a teacher unless he or she believes that each child is a genius,” he told us. “His belief in me is why I am who I am.”
And then he repeated his gold nugget of advice: “No one should be a teacher unless he believes every child is a genius.”
Every child is a genius. Radical, wonderful, and quite upside-down from the current labeling and classification of children at every turn. It felt natural to put this belief first in our work at Acton Academy; it became our fulcrum.
Later that night, after we said good-bye to Oliver, we pulled yellow notepads from the kitchen drawer and wrote down the heroes of learning who would be our muses.
Socrates
Socrates, the ancient Greek teacher and philosopher, taught by asking questions and claimed to know nothing. He inspired youth to seek the truth through relentless questioning. The Socratic method has been proven over the centuries to be the best path on which to hone critical thinking and seek understanding of the human condition beyond simply learning facts.
The key to being successful within this method is more than creating strong questions to provoke students to think. The power lies in a commitment not to answer questions at all. With this commitment comes the understanding from the students that they are in charge of figuring out answers rather than being given them from an expert. The students themselves become teachers and seekers of knowledge and wisdom.
Thomas Jefferson
Our third president, and principal author of the Declaration of Independence, believed in learning by doing. He taught by example; he believed in the value of apprenticeships and mentors.
“Do you want to know who you are?” he asked. “Don’t ask. Act! Action will delineate and define you.”
In our approach, students would seek a new apprenticeship each year of their middle school and high school journeys in areas of their greatest curiosity. This would begin with personal inventories to pinpoint interests and potential passions. Then, they would research opportunities and create a list of people to contact. The students would learn how to write an email that would be answered, secure an interview, and finally practice how to master the interview itself. Then, they would do the real-world work, spending 40–160 hours of their school year working at the knees of a master in the field.
Maria Montessori
Maria Montessori was a doctor and innovative educator in the first half of the twentieth century. She developed a schooling philosophy based on student self-direction that is in use across the world today. The main tenets of her method are mixed-age classrooms for peer teaching, with emphases on hands-on and self-paced learning experiences. The adult guide’s major role is to set up the environment properly, with expectations and boundaries that enable the children to take charge of their learning rather than wait to be told what to do.
Sugata Mitra
Sugata Mitra may have captured our thinking the most, as he knew the power of technology and how it freed children to learn without an adult teacher standing in front of them to deliver knowledge. He trusted children with big questions and knew their curiosity would rule the day. He also knew young people could lead and manage each other.
Jeff had met Dr. Mitra at a gathering of the John Templeton Foundation to honor philanthropic innovators. Although his PhD is in physics, Dr. Mitra is most recognized for his inventions and innovations in the fields of cognitive science and education technology.
His stories of children in the slums of Calcutta learning without adult supervision are surprising, yet they made so much sense to us. He simply set up a computer kiosk in a village and left it alone for the children to play with freely. He had cameras so he could watch what happened.
Within hours, the children had figured out how to use the computer and had hacked into the Disney website, even after being blocked. After a few weeks, these kids were clambering over each other to use the computer. It was chaotic until a twelve-year-old girl took over and organized the group. Soon, they were learning everything from DNA replication to the English language—with no adults in charge.
Dr. Mitra coined the term minimally invasive education and continues these experiments today.
“Minimally invasive education—that’s what I want for our children,” I told Jeff, “so they can be free and joyful in their discoveries while working on things that matter to them.
“And I want to be courageous enough to let them fall into chaos until one of the other children steps up to lead. I want to be as strong as Sugata Mitra.”
I knew I had a way to go on that one.
Sal Khan
Sal Khan became an early mentor as we formed Acton Academy. We met him at an education conference when Khan was making headlines with his free online videos teaching math concepts (called Khan Academy). We bonded quickly over our shared belief that given the right tools, children could drive their own education. Soon after that meeting, the three of us shared ideas on the phone. After we hung up, Jeff summed up the data available for online assessment perfectly: “Never in the history of time has more information been available for parents to see how their child is doing in math. I’m just glad I’m not a math teacher, with Khan Academy taking over.”
Sam, Charlie, and Taite Sandefer
We knew that it was our children who would teach us the most about learning. They already had as we watched them learn to talk, walk, read, write, build, sell, create, persuade, and plan, all without an expert teaching them. They would also be the ones to give us feedback—quickly and more honestly than anyone in the universe. And they’d be our guinea pigs as we tested projects, schedules, and programs.
Ramping up our bandwidth: technology and learning
We found ourselves in an auspicious time in the history of education for such work. Technology was changing everything. The wave of online learning was building so much momentum that it felt like a tsunami hitting the old bastion of tradition. Though the wave had been growing slowly for decades, by the end of 2009, millions of American students in K–12 schools were engaged in some kind of online learning. Technology was freeing up access to learning and lowering costs of delivery.
We saw the impact at home with our young children, too. They were using online games to learn everything from math to entrepreneurship to civil engineering. Technology was making my children into independent seekers of learning—with very little need for me to guide them. It seemed natural and intuitive to them. This spoke volumes about the opportunity that awaited all methods of schooling.
But there was still fear and skepticism from parents, as
there always is when new technology enters our lives. Even Wilbur and Orville Wright faced flak when they made bicycles more readily available to children: Wouldn’t those bicycles take children far away from home, to places where danger lurked?
We knew we’d be battling such concerns by providing laptops and Internet access to each of our students; but the quality of online learning programs and the numbers of users kept growing exponentially. There was no turning back. It was time to embrace the Internet for what it was worth. And we saw lots of worth.
We also saw the risks and problems we’d need to solve. We knew the children would use computers for only about a quarter of their work time, but could we free parents from the fear their kids would be glued to a screen all day? What safeguards could we install so inappropriate material wouldn’t pop up? What laptops would be most economical and user-friendly? Could instruction on the Internet truly replace real, live teachers? How should we test for quality in content and delivery?
We had many questions but were ready to test and experiment until we found the best online programs for children available. This was one tsunami we were going to ride.
I look back on the day Jeff came home that afternoon telling me “we are done” with traditional school and wonder what would have happened if I’d had a crystal ball. If I could have seen the challenges that lay ahead, would I still have said yes to this journey? On that day, the decision was clear and simple. Of course we could create our own school for our children.
I had no idea what I was getting myself into.
Chapter 3
Becoming Real—First a Fair, Then a School
“There is not another school on the face of the Earth where we’d rather our daughter go. It’s truly mind-boggling good fortune, and we owe it all to you and Jeff.”
—Jamie Jones and Alejandra Fernandez, Acton Academy parents
The Children’s Business Fair
Twelve white-peaked tents sat in a row on our front lawn, and each tent contained a six-foot table and two folding chairs. It was our inaugural Children’s Business Fair, October 2007. Sam’s idea was coming to life. Little did we know the prototype for our school was about to become a reality. This fair was our vision of how children should learn, and it was being born.
Our young entrepreneurs arrived before the sun came up. Sam was selling hot chocolate, Charlie was selling his homemade dog biscuits, and Taite had her mysteriously delicious chocolate-chip cookie treats packaged and ready. The other children emptied boxes and bags full of homemade products on their tables—jewelry, stationery, swords, painted rocks, and hand-painted T-shirts. They unloaded small cash boxes and handcrafted banners and tablecloths to complete the setup of their individual booths—their very own small businesses.
Ranging from four to ten years old, these children hailed from public and private schools, along with a couple of homeschoolers, all from Austin, Texas. Our application to participate required them to write a business plan, including start-up costs, pricing, and projected revenue. More important, it specified that each business was to be purely driven by the child—no parents were allowed to help. They’d keep the profit as well, minus a $10 booth fee. The children signed a contract stating that if they had to borrow money from their parents, they would pay them back from their proceeds.
Hundreds of people streamed into our yard to check out this little fair. Our flyers had done the trick. People were buying products, and children were haggling, calculating, smiling, and working really hard.
By noon, we had learned two important things. First, children can do far more than we imagined. Second, parents have a very hard time stepping back when there is a possibility that their children might fail or even simply be uncomfortable. But they felt success, too, as they watched their children beaming.
“It worked!” Sam said, who had sold out of his hot chocolate quickly. Charlie and Taite were too busy counting their revenue to look up and acknowledge Sam’s excitement.
This first fair was our introduction of Acton Academy to the world. As the customers meandered through the booths and spoke with the children, word had spread that we were starting a school based on the principles of this fair. Hands-on learning. Children leading themselves. Real-world problem solving.
The Children’s Business Fair was a true experiment, with no grand plan but for our own children to have a fun learning experience and practice some entrepreneurial skills. Our initial approach to the school was much the same. We pulled together ideas and strategies until we found the ones that worked best.
Keeping Austin Weird
At the same time that we were launching our first Children’s Business Fair, Austin was becoming one of America’s hot spots. For decades it had been a town built on state government, live music, and academia, all strung around the University of Texas.
Starting in the late 1980s through the turn of the century, Austin began attracting innovative industries, including technology, gaming, and filmmaking. By 2007, we were surrounded by creative genius and hot conversations about disruption in education through the advent of online learning. This—along with the burgeoning homeschooling population, alternative school options, and the rising cost of a college degree with no guarantee of a job afterward—was sparking questions about traditional schooling.
Although what we were thinking of doing seemed crazy to some, we were in the right place at the right time to begin something radical. “Keep Austin Weird” is our town motto, and we fit right in.
Now nearly a decade later, Acton Children’s Business Fairs, like Acton Academy, have expanded across the country, in particular in cities like Detroit, where they’re led by strong moms and community leaders wanting to give their children a chance to become entrepreneurs. Each one still reflects the most important ingredients for a thriving Acton Academy—children on a mission, with clear boundaries, great freedom, and responsibility. And a chance to show the world what they can do.
But we didn’t pay much attention to the fair. We had a school to launch.
Finding a home for Acton Academy
After six months of looking for an initial location, we saw a For Lease sign on a property about two miles from our house. It was love at first sight—a small, charming home with wooden floors that had been converted into an architect’s office, close to downtown.
Our sweet little building did not have a yard, but it was within walking distance of a park. The tiny parking area out the back door became our “field.” We could paint a Four-Square court, pull in a mobile basketball hoop, and stick a ping-pong table under the carport.
I now had something I could dig my hands into. I was driven to create a home more than a school. I wanted it to smell good when you walked in the door—bread-baking-in-the-oven kind of good. And warm lights, not fluorescent. I wanted windows without blinds and living plants we could feed and watch grow. I wanted soft, inviting textures in pillows and rugs. I veered away from bulletin boards with preprinted happy faces and apples. I wanted the children’s words and ideas painted on the walls with their own hands. I wanted our space to feed our sense of intimacy and trust. I wanted it to be a place that lingered in their minds as they left each day. Place matters.
One afternoon I walked my friend Carolyn Robinson through our little school. As we were closing the door behind us, she said, “How do we sign up? We’ve been hoping you and Jeff would start a school!”
Her son, Cash, was in Charlie’s Montessori class. He and Charlie had become bonded over the Hank the Cowdog book series. She and her husband, Rhett, had been looking for a small, hands-on learning experience for Cash, since our Montessori school didn’t have an upper-elementary program. She knew us well and trusted that what we would build for our own children would suit Cash just fine.
Her trust was humbling to me—and a breath of encouragement that kept me strong as I was taking my steps into the unknown.
Hi
ring our first guide
At this point we were a small, merry band—not a school.
We were missing one vital piece of our quickly evolving plan—a teacher. I knew it was critical for us to find the right one if we wanted to attract more families.
Even though our ultimate vision was to have no teachers, only guides, we knew the credentials of a Montessori teacher would bring expertise in the area of setting up the environment and communicating with parents about the psychology of learning. A master Montessori teacher would help us build a culture and a community. As time went on, we would train this person to use the Socratic method and change the title from “teacher” to “guide.”
Kaylie Dienelt had been Charlie and Cash’s teacher at the Montessori school. She was smart, creative, entrepreneurial, and worldly. She was fascinated with children and learning and the psychology behind it. She had been on my mind as the perfect teacher for Acton Academy, but I didn’t have the heart to pluck her from a school she seemed to be thriving in. As luck would have it, she had just notified the school that she’d be leaving.
I called her immediately. “What are your plans regarding teaching?” I asked.
“I have heard through the grapevine about your school idea and am intrigued. I’d love to talk with you about it.”
I knew as I hung up the phone we’d found our future master guide.
Recruiting fellow travelers
We had core beliefs, a location, a guide—and only three students, two of whom were our own sons. Who would join us? I placed an advertisement in a local parenting magazine:
Acton Academy. Where every child begins a Hero’s Journey.
Do you believe character matters more than tests? And free play is more important than homework? Do you yearn for your child to find a calling and not just a career? Join us at our open house to learn more.
Our open house was scheduled to run from 8:00 a.m. to 5:00 p.m. for five straight days. On the first day, I sat alone. Waiting. The clock ticked. Warm sun streamed through the window and brightened the front rooms. And then it happened. The front door of Acton Academy opened.
Courage to Grow Page 4