A Letter to my Young, and not so Young, Friends: there is a revolution going on.

From the snow capped mountains I walk across the brown-green fells of the Lake District, up past the noisy waterfall to the placid tarn – a place of mirrors and reflections…  As the logs crackle in the fire and sparks explode when they are moved, thoughts move from past, to present, to future….  Is it possible to live without conflict?

What of my young friends?  I wonder if I might call you friends; you who have been the students with whom I have shared my life during the past three decades and more; despite the pressure to control, to manage and make demands, maybe there was some sense of affection.   And what of the students who, in two day’s time, will return to the school community of which I am now part?  In this environment, pressure, control and authority are the subjects of questioning, and affection is seen as an essential element in living.  My young life, like many others of my generation and background, was almost completely devoid of affection – it was not part of the education, an education that was specifically designed to produce rulers of the world!  I have learnt affection through my relationship with my wife, my children, through friendship and through nature.

 I watch the light on the snow as we drive away from our week of reflection and activity together.  Fresh snow has fallen in the night, whilst coming as heavy rain into the valleys.  Even from this distance the newness of the snow creates a cleansing effect on the mind and, for a fleeting moment, there is a sense that this mind soars like an eagle, hovers over those softened sharp rocks and gazes down on this magnificent scene.

Our own children are caught in the conflict between the creative and the mundane.  And, as a family we sit by the fire of a house we have now deserted, consider and explore together the need to earn money to exist, whilst maintaining vital involvement in writing, music and art which give our lives meaning.  Our sons still hold on to their profound interests whilst all the time they are under siege from the world of exploitation, aspiration and conformity.

So, my friends, as it is the beginning of a new year and I have had the birthday which takes my aging, hesitant steps further into my seventh decade, may I ask your permission to participate in your revolution?   I know it is going on.  I have seen it in the eyes of the young and not so young in many places of the world.  I have seen it in the faces of the children who refuse to be coerced, to fit in despite the weight of the adult world that in its stupidity and arrogance thinks it knows how we all should live.  I saw it a few days ago in as I was sitting on a rock by a lake eating my lunch after a walk that took me past that noisy, tumbling waterfall.  I saw it in the smiles of the two children feeding the ducks and laughing as their big, black dog plunged in to deprive the birds of their food.  I heard it in the call and laughter of their mother and the accompanying laughter of strangers.  I see it in my grandson in his second year of school, who loves learning; and my other grandson, who is in his third year of life and loves living.

Will you let me join you in negating a world that supports violence; that accepts people being driven out of their homes in Syria, Sudan and many other places in the world?   I will question with you the values in life that put the earning of money and owning of things as more important than treating the earth and all it contains with care and affection.  And, as I move with that sureness of step which unites us all in death, I will give you what little insight and understanding I have to contribute to the conversation that feeds your revolution.  But I will not hate; I will not lead, for that implies followers and then you have already joined the deadly game; I will not specialise in exams, academic theories or intellectual speculation; above all I will not be part of a movement!

A friend in India once called Maggie and me, ‘nomadic cross-pollinators’, as we travelled around the country having discussions with many people and observing the different work that was being done to alleviate poverty, engage with social justice, tackle environmental degradation and bring about a transformation of human thinking.  It is possible that this is what I can give to this process of revolution – for the revolution is not like any other that has gone before it.  There may be enemies, but there is no blueprint or dominant ideology; there is urgency, but that urgency consists of moving slowly and carefully for there are many traps; and above all there is no separation, because it is that very process of fragmentation that has brought us to the necessity of the revolution.

Perhaps we can talk about this?

What is the Role of the Teacher?

Outside our new home we have a magnificent black walnut tree, from all aspects of our small apartment we can see the solid grey/brown of its sturdy trunk, at night we hear the wind rushing through the leaves and the soft sway of its boughs.  Its height dwarfs the newly built wooden pavilions; it has come from another land, as have so many in the community we have recently joined.  

Lately I have been reminded on two separate and very different occasions of the power of the technological advances that have been made over the last decades, notably in the area of communication which has increased the potential for human connection all over the world.  However, this is not being mirrored with any sense of change in the quality of human relationships: wars continue; fragmentation of communities continues; greed and exploitation abound.  In addition to this there is ever increasing evidence of the dehumanising of much of humanity.  Systems, profits, economics and policies are destroying the lives of the poor, the vulnerable, the weak and the powerless in all parts of the world.

So what as an educator can I do?  For I must do something.  Years ago, just before finishing my course in education, I heard some people discussing teachers referring to that group as ‘a bunch of mischief-makers’.  Since then I have caught myself from time to time being drawn into the mass of people whose view of the young has not changed much since the Victorian era, finding myself being inadvertently institutionalised.  However, where I am now this role of the teacher is being challenged and that is why I am here.  In a community where the intentions of the place are explicit in learning about the whole of life, then it is incumbent upon all of us to explore all aspects of living.  However, there is a danger here that in such beautiful surroundings, superb healthy food, comfortable living, where there is intentionally no pressure, day to day life slips into a goldfish bowl of self-absorption and complacency that separates the community from the outside world: the inner from the outer. So finding a means to connect with the outer world is very important and to explore the conditions where the teacher becomes the student and the student the teacher, and falling back on the authority of knowledge and experience is not enough.   Being a conduit of expertise to furnish the desire for certainty is no longer the role of the teacher in a world where living is a process of uncertainty.  Interestingly, many of us, staff and students, have been experiencing moments frustration, inertia, and doubt, typical of the transitional stage in the movement towards radical change.

One of those groups that have been dehumanised are adolescents; not necessarily children, nor young adults; but those in their teenage years who are coerced into schooling, regimented, uniformed, and plagued by exams.  Across the world this section of humanity is being programmed into becoming economic units, exploited, dependent on the stimulation of entertainment, shaped by narrow ideas of success and haunted by the dark shadow of failure – whatever that might mean.  It seems to me that it is the role of the teacher to question these assumptions with the students, to listen and not to preach, direct or adopt the authority of superior knowledge.   For this to happen there must be a relationship that is based on trust and affection and that may not happen quickly for these qualities are not necessarily found easily.  Steps are being taken, hesitantly, carefully for we are all human beings.

The Next Step – Engaging in Educating the Spirit.

The long days of summer are shortening now, but for the last few weeks there have been many days of blue skies and warm sunshine.  Through the shadows of the trees a warm breeze flows playing with the leaves, bringing the scent of the newly harvested fields and the dust of the dry ground.  Copper leaves shine and glint among the dark and light greens of the other majestic trees.  The soft sounds of the pigeons float across the mottled browns and greens of the lawn.  For now the place is deserted; devoid of human activity.

Tomorrow we begin the next step in a process that began just under three weeks ago.  What has emerged through a flurry of questions and chaotic confusion is the skeleton of a framework for further exploration into education.  For over forty years this place has engaged with the challenge of ‘learning about the whole of life’.  Many students and staff have passed through contributing to a sense of constant change in the heart of the English countryside.  Now another change is being brought into being.

As the state sponsored systems of education throughout the world narrow further and further, funneling young people through rigid steps of disjointed learning towards a view of success that is only a reality for a lucky few and is almost entirely measured in economic terms, we are attempting to move significantly away from that approach.  After thirty five years as a teacher I have found myself in a place that is asking the question; what is the function of the teacher?  Here the content of my teaching is new as is my work in helping those students who will be finishing school take the next step in their lives; so, thankfully, I cannot fall back on past experience.  It is an enormous responsibility, but it does not weigh heavily on my shoulders, as, for the first time since I began training as a teacher nearly forty years ago, I do not feel that someone is looking over my shoulder waiting for me to make a mistake.  Accountability is a word that has been given greater and greater importance over the last few decades, its harsh spectre haunts many teachers, often making the process of teaching and learning into a crass commercial exchange.  The teacher has been made accountable for the progress of the student and, especially when it comes to exams, has to explain success and failures in terms of her or his own performance.

Here I am responsible, not as a separate entity, but as an integral part of the community and the students are responsible for themselves.  So in a sense they are also responsible for me as we work in shared exploration and understanding.  They will be teaching themselves and teaching each other.  I will also be learning.

…

This is my first description of the tentative beginning I am making to my time at Brockwood Park School.  So far I have been eating delicious vegetarian food, cleaning the place, washing up, waling, sitting, listening, talking and getting to know all the other people who make up the community of about one hundred and twenty young people and adults.

I intend to keep writing this blog as a contemplation of my life here with this question in the background  – Is this educating the spirit?

Leaves upon the water.

The question asked may be like leaves that rest upon the silent water; floating for while before sinking to the river bed providing vital nutrients.  It may be like a dropped pebble creating calm concentric ripples, reaching out to the lake shore.  It may even be a vast boulder cast into a placid sea, plummeting into the depths and making waves of disturbance taking all before them.

Teaching is the art of questioning; encouraging doubt and inviting exploration.  The small child slips its hand into that of the adult and seeks protection, but she still asks the question.  They are connected, not just through words, but in a feeling of safety created through understanding.  The adolescent looks with an assertion of independence, sometimes with a sense of challenge, other times with a studied lack of interest; gauging the reaction and judging whether the adult is really interested in her as an individual.  Her question might be a challenge, but the response, even though it may be just a smile, may the beginning of a connection.  However, many an adult has learnt to manipulate, to exploit, and often this means that the trust of the young has been replaced with a self-absorbed cynicism.  Nevertheless, the ground for connection for all humanity is the same:  the absence of judgement, no fear and no preconceived outcome.

Teaching is the flow of relationship: the waves of the sea, back and forth.  The adoption of rigid roles, student, teacher, learning, play work, effort discipline; the inability to explore outside predetermined parameters; and holding on to assumptions are all barriers to this flow relationship.  Authority, status, formality, formality and hierarchy stand like vast concrete dams of control;  controlling learning, controlling behaviour, seeking to mould, to ensure obedient servants to a corrupt world.  Teaching is a unifying process, where difference is understood as being part of the whole; so no division is caused by competition, comparison and the constant creation of categories.  The conventional approach to teaching is to break things down, to fragment and seek out disparity, and to look for disconnections.  There is very little holistic in this approach to learning.

…

Mostly they are friendly, smiling and wanting to enjoy our time together.  At the beginning many were suspicious, withdrawn and unsure of the grey haired, bearded man who had appeared in front of them one day in April, taking the place of the teacher they had expected to see and who had been there for them since September.  In a school that encourages openness, where there is no uniform and everyone is on first name terms, the teacher can appear to be vulnerable, even lack authority.  Direct questions are asked and, as with many teenagers, there is a fine line that divides genuine interest from outright rudeness.  I am instantly reminded of my humanity and recognise the relationship that holds us all together….

Now it looks as though Maggie and I will be joining the staff of Brockwood Park School in Hampshire, where I will be teaching full time.  This is a unique opportunity to inquire deeply into the activities of teaching and learning in a community that that is 'place where one learns about the totality, the wholeness of life.'   I intend to continue to write and will take the opportunity to reflect on what actually happens.

Mindfulness in Education: Educating the Spirit

Snow is still on the ground and the air is driven by an icy chill.  Here in Berlin the grey gritted snow is piled by the pavements and the roadsides.  It should be the time when the buds are appearing on the trees and the first flowers bring colour chasing away the drab grey of winter.  However, the trees are black in the wintery light and the grass maintains its dull, muddy semblance of green.  Perhaps it is fitting to be observing this city for the first, brief time against a winter that does not want to release its icy grip quite yet.

We take a boat ride along the river and through the peaceful canal waters.  Occasionally we pass groups of small children all woollen-hatted and buttoned up against the cold, their enthusiastic waving and smiling faces warm us.  We ride the bus along the road of recent history and we walk along the edge of the city’s large, still dormant, park and through the modern shopping complex.  Our friend shows us around and we stare silently at the remains of the wall that, until quite recently, separated families and friends with cruel threats of terror and death.  Outwardly there appears to be much prosperity; a city now raised from the appalling destruction of the Second World War and the following decades of drab ideological fragmentation.  Yet our friend talks of psychological fragility, the legacy of individual and communal experiences of the suffering and horror in this lifetime of conflict.  The collective consciousness of such violent suffering cannot be healed by economic rebuilding alone.

On my return I watch original film of the destruction of Berlin as the Second World War came to a close and the building of the Wall some fifteen years later.  Watching the scale of violence is horrifying and it is possible to feel that the determination to kill is a strong as the fear of being killed.  Evidence of humanity’s cruelty, arrogance and stupidity is all too clear.

The present contains all of the past and the seed of the future; this is not a separate, isolated moment.  Consciousness is the movement from the past, through the present into the future.  As human beings we are constantly trapped in this seemingly endless prison of thinking, which is dominated by conflict.  This thinking is expressed in the predominant world mind set of a militaristic/industrial system where ideologies, structures, organisations and institutions are considered more important than the Earth and its inhabitants.  What has happened to Berlin is stark evidence of this mind set.  So how do we change this way of thinking, because if we do not then we shall surely destroy all of humanity? We have cleverly ensured that we have the capability of doing this, and we are successfully destroying many other species of living beings.

It seems to me that the answer to this lies in our approach to education.  However, our current system of education is of the same mind set, indeed it is the cornerstone of militaristic/industrial thinking.  Our friend, Manish Jain, in his essay titled ‘McEducation’, describes this approach to education as ‘a devastating system of social control, cultural genocide and modern servitude to a suicidal economy.’*  However, if we look at education as an exploration into living, with the essence of this being the developing self-awareness of the individual within the clear understanding that the individual is undivided from the world, then there is the possibility for the emergence of a compassionate, balanced society. 

An interesting development in exploring self-awareness in an educational setting is the growth of mindfulness in schools.  Last month I attended the Third International Mindfulness in Schools Conference in London.  The main speaker was Jon Kabat-Zinn, and a large audience also heard from teachers and students who are putting the Mindfulness in Schools programme into practice.  Much was said about the technique of being mindful, giving attention to the moment and becoming aware of one’s breathing.  Emphasis was put on the effectiveness of mindfulness in alleviating stress and anxiety, especially in relation to exams.  The practice of mindfulness was discussed in term of training the mind to be watchful; aware of the process of thinking and gaining the skill of being mindful.

Unfortunately, I was left with the impression that mindfulness was being used essentially as a technique to enable young people to more effectively fit in to the prevailing mind set; a tool for coping with modern life and to help the individual perform more successfully.  And, although the practice would undoubtedly have some effect on a few young people, it was a very separate aspect of the school curriculum.

‘We have to alter the structure of our society, its injustice, its appalling morality, the divisions it has created between man and man, the wars, the utter lack of affection and love that is destroying the world.  If your meditation is only a personal matter, a thing which you personally enjoy then it is not meditation.  Meditation implies a complete radical change of mind and heart.’  J Krishnamurti

Interventions in the present school system, even those as important as mindfulness, cannot bring about the radical change that is necessary.  First we have to question the predominant world view for otherwise we are merely getting our children ready for destruction and with the weapons we have at our disposal Berlin may well be the last city capable of being re-established after a human conflict.

•  An 18 minute talk by Manish can be seen here - http://youtu.be/qGfuY9ivnW8   and the full text of his essay can be read here - http://www.criticalliteracyjournal.org/

Well-being: Educating the Spirit

The sky is a heavy grey and it has been raining for many hours.  Sitting at the front on the top floor of a double-decker bus, I can see the water soaked fields and the streams spill on to the road as we take this familiar journey.  I get down from the bus close by the cottage which we lived in for three years, not so long ago.  I put up the hood of my jacket against the incessant rain and the memories surface of a dying family dog, the life of a cat cut short on the road and now buried in the woods nearby and the final independence steps of four children.

It is not as cold as it has been and the rain eases off as I make my way up the familiar hill.  It is now nearly forty years since I first ascended this road with the lady who has been my wife for almost as long.  At that time the summer was giving way to the first touches of autumn and the beech trees created a magnificent copper canopy that shaded the road from the afternoon sun.  Those trees are no more and young ones have been planted in their places; I will be long gone before those beeches reach the splendour of their forebears.

I pass the lodge and enter the parkland home to generations of sheep ascending the single track that climbs towards the large, imposing house.  In all this time I have been visitor, friend, parent and teacher at this place and, as I set foot on the gravel of the drive, I reflect on what my relationship might be now.

***

This morning the sun is streaming in and the sound of the birds outside seems to proclaim a welcome spring.  I have returned with a request to consider the psychological well-being of young people and have the opportunity of putting the question, ‘To what extent do you feel equipped to deal with the challenges of living?’ 

It became clear quite quickly that this was not a question that immediately touched the students; nevertheless several concerns began to emerge.

Possibly central to the thinking of many of these teenagers was a sense of who they are and their feelings of self-worth.  The destructive power of self criticism was clearly felt by some and was described with clarity as never being able to look at themselves without a feeling of they could have done better, leading to a deep sense of they could always be better.  On the other hand others stated that they had never had that feeling and what that their experience was one of acceptance of who they were, not out of complacency or certainty, but more that they were not accustomed to comparing themselves with others.  An observation was made concerning the part played by emotional support from others in their lives; from relatives and friends in particular.  It was this sense of being cared for that was seen as significant in their well-being from a very early age.  This led on to comments about happiness as being connected to feelings about oneself. 

An intricate web of observations arose from happiness and the sense of despair that some felt about the future.  Firstly, a student from Portugal was experiencing that many of her contemporaries had been distracted by the promise of material happiness and the economic and consequent social crisis in the country is leading to many young people feeling a mixture of despair and powerlessness.  However, this student felt that this was not being translated into questioning the relationship between having things and being happy.  Others from Europe echoed her comments.  Then from a student from Brazil came the observation that life in that country was very different, with many people struggling for basic survival against a background of an almost non-existent framework of social infrastructure.  Here there is very little of the level of comfort that is expected in Europe, and yet a dramatically lower level of happiness was not apparent. 

Again, it is a delight to be with these young people.  In these classes there is a sense of interest, ease and respect for each other.  Some students are silent, but that is not a problem for they appear to be listening.  Some are quite forceful in what they say, but this comes out of passion, not that their own point of view should be dominant.  There is no feeling of conflict that is so often apparent in classrooms around the world.  It is a privilege for me to be here.

‘The difficulty in all these human questions is that we ourselves, the parents and teachers, have become so utterly weary and hopeless, altogether confused and without peace; life weighs heavily upon us, and we want to be comforted , we want to be loved.  Being poor and insufficient within ourselves, how can we hope to give the right kind of education to the child?

That is why the major problem is not the pupil, but the educator; our own hearts and minds must be cleansed if we are to be capable of educating others.  If the educator himself is confused, crooked, lost in a maze of his own desire, how can he impart wisdom or help to make straight the way of another?  But we are not machines to be understood and repaired by experts; we are the result of a long series of influences and accidents, and each one has to unravel and understand for himself the confusion of his own nature.’

J Krishnamurti – Education and the Significance of Life.

It seems to me an essential part of the responsibility of educators is listening to students, whatever their age, for education is more than a one way process. 

Letter to my Grandchildren: How are you going to avoid getting caught up in this mess?

This world has many faces, some of which I have seen.  Some are beautiful; the monkey swinging from tree to tree, the elephant in its silent swaying walk, and the sea’s deep rolling sound.  Others are ugly; plastic littering the undergrowth and choking the rivers; the violence and greed of humanity.  You both have beautiful smiles, and as you run towards us with your arms outstretched it is like being drowned in warming sunshine.   You are happy being you; neither of you want to be anything other than what you are.  Your parents care for you; delight in your company when you are awake and relish the quiet when you are asleep.  You are both very young: one embarking on a new, larger world; the other experimenting with sight, sound and movement.  Steadily, almost imperceptibly, you are moving towards independence, standing alone, thinking for yourselves, being yourselves.

How will you fare in this world of many faces?  Will you be devoured by the brutality of it all?  Or will you hold on to that sensitivity that you both so cheerfully possess?   Will the violence of competition, ambition, aspiration engulf you so that you are left struggling in the mire of life that has so carelessly been left by me and my generation?  I have seen them on the streets of the towns and cities and in the villages of India; children of your age struggling to survive, their thin bodies clothed in rags.  I have seen their smiles, fleeting and questioning under the weight of intense hardship.  I have seen them in the streets of Britain, cowering under the rage of desperate parents, already consigned to the role of the under-class.

Will you continue to learn about life, about who you are and feel free to explore?  Today you play by the sea and walk in the hills; you breathe the air that carries the promise of spring, the scent of a summer to come and feel the bite of last chill winds of winter.  Will you when, hard times come to you, as they do to us all, walk quietly to the trees, the shore or the rivers to gather yourselves, to reflect, to find strength?  You both delight in the flight of birds, the scurrying of animals and the swift, darting movements of fish.  Will you care for them?  Will you share your world with them and not crush them under your feet?

When each one of you sits on my knee and we read a book or look at the world outside, your breathing and your bodies are so strong and yet so fragile.  Sometimes you put your arms around my neck and hold your face next to mine and we are together, all of humanity, timeless in communication beyond words, beyond explanation:  the old man and his grandson, for that moment cease to exist.  Then you laugh, slip off my knee and go back to your playing, whilst I watch and learn about you and me.

Will you be forced to fit in?  Will fear come to dominate your every move, as it did for me when I was young?  Will you have to be the best, or will you decide you are no good?  Like us you are the product of your parents, and yet you carry all of humanity within you.  Will you find out what you really love doing and do that?  Will you care for others without being asked?

Both of you are so full of life; interested, thoughtful, over-flowing with questions.  Your lives are just beginning, whilst mine is approaching its final phases.  Yet our lives, yours and mine, are touched by the same fragility and we share the same uncertainty of our continuity. So, though we are divided by time and separated by distance may we learn together without judgement – you need neither my condemnation nor my approval.  It is the joy of being related to all living things that nurtures our spirit, and it is the delight of discovering this that unites humanity.