Theme and Metaphor in Friends Education
A Sunday afternoon in early May. I had spent some hours on this particular afternoon in my home garden, turning the soil in our new raised beds, planting spinach and peas and transplanting broccoli and cabbage seedlings. The day was bright and tranquil, shafts of sunlight piercing through the branches of the large maple that dominates our backyard. And so there I was when a breeze kicked up high above me and whooshed through the upper branches of the maple and the other trees lining our property – the white pine, the row of spruce. As the breeze continued, off the branches of the maple came a shower of samaras – those winged seed pods, also known as whirligigs, that spin as they float to the ground. I’d certainly been familiar with these pods for as long as I could remember. As a child I’d collected them from beneath the maple tree in the backyard of my first home, and friends and I would peel the ends of the wings apart and stick them to our noses or foreheads. Though I can’t begin to imagine how many samaras I’ve seen twirling through the air in all of my years on earth, never had I experienced what happened on this Sunday afternoon, when thousands upon thousands were – for some reason – released simultaneously, completely filling the air with their pirouetting, whirling energy. For what seemed forever I stood transfixed – absolutely frozen – gazing upward in wonder at this dizzying sight, listening as the pods landed on the roof of our back porch and shed, on the bricks of the patio – tic, tic, tic… And still more came spinning, spinning, and more ticking… When finally the breeze passed and the last of the samaras touched down, our entire backyard was blanketed with these pods. And I was again able to move.
On a spring afternoon of any year this experience would have been noteworthy. But in the spring of this particular year it was especially so, given the fact that for the past eight months, as part of the learning community that is Princeton Friends School, I’d been living Among Trees. I will explain…
Ever since its founding in 1987, Princeton Friends School has been defined in large part by its Central Study curriculum – an annual thematic focus that weaves together inquiry and learning throughout the year across all grade levels and subject areas. Each year’s Central Study theme, conceived and developed from scratch by the faculty as a whole, examines history and the human experience through a particular lens, integrating geography, history, science, literature, world languages, art, and music into a multi-faceted whole. It is through Central Study that we live out the conviction that all of life is connected and that learning cannot and should not happen in isolated pockets of single-discipline study. It is through Central Study that we examine ourselves in relation to other people and to the earth itself, developing through this intellectual discipline a sense of responsibility to one another and to the whole of humanity. And perhaps most importantly, it is through Central Study that teachers model the practice of lifelong learning as they explore side-by-side with students whatever theme is currently under consideration, asking questions themselves and discovering connections all along the way.
Journeys. Walls & Bridges. Work & Play. Earth Matters. Flight & Freedom. Voices. In Motion. Cycles. Food for Thought. And Among Trees.
The principal challenge in choosing a Central Study theme each year is that it must speak to children and adults of all ages. The theme must be resonant enough to inspire teachers, concrete enough to engage kindergarteners, and complex enough to challenge our most intellectually sophisticated 8th graders. A recent theme that illustrates this range of possibility was that of In Motion. Throughout that particular year we noticed and celebrated the many ways that students were literally “in motion” in their day-to-day lives as they tried their hands and feet and bodies at such varied activities as climbing, juggling, cross country, folk dancing, ice skating, soccer, bowling, badminton, and percussive dance. We took note of the power of real experience out in the world as students moved off campus on a regular basis for their community outreach assignments, many of which involved motion of one sort or another – whether planting or weeding at nearby organic farms, cavorting with kittens at a local animal shelter, or delivering meals to homebound elders. Sixth through eighth graders, as part of their study of U.S. History, traveled to Jamestown and Colonial Williamsburg, the U.S. Constitution Center in Philadelphia, and the United Nations. The Dance Club traveled to a folk festival at Berea College in Kentucky, and a group of 8th graders participated in our annual service trip to our sister school in Guatemala. And to culminate the year, more than 300 students, faculty, and parents weathered three days on our annual camping trip – moving all the while – whether hiking the Appalachian Trail, canoeing down the Delaware River, climbing up or rappelling down a thirty-foot wall or rock face, or swooping through trees and across a waterfall on a zip line.
Within the classroom as well, throughout that year, units of study highlighted the theme of In Motion. At various grade levels students studied the migratory patterns of monarch butterflies, whales, and wildebeasts, the beginnings of international trade on the Silk Road, the history of U.S. immigration, the role of protest marches in the struggle for civil rights, and the plight of people in motion today – whether seasonal migrant workers in Florida or Syrian refugees in Turkey. Literature selections focused on journeys of all sorts – both actual and metaphorical – through folktales, fantasy, historical fiction, biography, and memoir, and students composed both personal narratives recounting their own experiences on the road and fiction pieces structured around the archetype of the hero’s journey. In science classes students produced and experimented with mousetrap cars, and in art they followed in the footsteps of Jackson Pollack, creating works of vibrant physicality, color, and energy. One of our teachers gave us the gift of an aloud telling, entirely from memory, of The Odyssey – one of its twenty-four books per week – recounting Odysseus’ long voyage from Troy to Ithaca, home to his beloved Penelope and son Telemachus. And wrapping up the year with the production of “The King and I,” we all witnessed King Mongkut’s inner struggle between the forces of tradition and those of change, a struggle that culminated in profound personal transformation, an elegant illustration of a heart and spirit truly “in motion.”
Often it happens that a year’s chosen Central Study theme not only suggests content to be studied, but brings into focus as well the whole of the learning process. During the year in which our thematic lens was Voices, for example, we were reminded of the many channels through which our students discover their individual voices within the context of the community as a whole. In our weekly meeting for worship, we listen together for that “still small voice” of the Spirit that moves within and among us, whether through the words of a six year-old or a previously timid and reticent 8th grader. We call forth the literal voice of each student through both the written and spoken word – in private through individual writer’s notebooks, and in public through the folktales told at our winter Storytelling Festival, the original poems shared with the whole community at our annual poetry reading, and the Moving On remarks delivered by 8th graders from the porch of the meetinghouse each June. PFS students seize opportunities to make music together – in chorus and in our boys’ and girls’ a cappella groups – and our community is bound together in harmony on a regular basis through all-school singing. At Princeton Friends School ample space exists for students to find their voices – indeed to claim their voices – figuratively as well as literally. In the choices that they are asked to make – from individual arts electives and literature selections to their independent reading and research topics – students are expected to have a voice in shaping their own education. As our students are expected to take care of one another and take responsibility for their community as a whole, they rise to the challenge of living with integrity, their words and deeds guided by their inner ethical and moral voices. And as each student feels seen and known and honored as a unique individual within the community, we regularly witness remarkable acts of claiming voice, of students growing into and expressing their highest selves.
Throughout the quarter century since Princeton Friend School’s founding, the themes that have most inspired us as a community are those that are particularly expansive, resonant, and metaphorically rich. Most compelling of all have been the times in which experiences in our lives beyond the walls of the school echo a given year’s theme and offer unexpected commentary on the broad purposes of our work. And this is precisely what happened on that May afternoon at the end of our Among Trees year. We had spent eight months becoming familiar with a part of our landscape we take too much for granted, coming to know the identities of twenty or so common species that we pass by each day without even noticing, learning about trees as an essential natural resource throughout human history, and focusing ultimately on the Amazon rainforest, the peoples whose livelihood this region supports, and its vulnerability in the face of global economic development and climate change.
And so, given the context of the year’s theme, I was wide open when those pirouetting samaras filled the sky. I fully appreciated, in the moment, the ways in which this happening connected to all that we’d been learning about trees throughout that school year. But even then I knew that I hadn’t yet grasped the full significance of the experience. In the days and weeks that followed I took it upon myself to learn all I could about these whirligigs, and in doing so came to understand the ways in which their release reflected what happens in June each year, every year, in our schools. And in turn I realized that this phenomenon carried a powerful message about the work we do as educators, and particularly as educators in Friends schools.
The samaras are the fruit of the maple, the elegantly designed seeds of the next generation. Rather than dropping directly beneath the parent tree, where they wouldn’t find the sun they need, they are able to fly wherever the wind takes them. And furthermore, they have everything they need to thrive in their new location. In the words of an arborist who taught me about these seed pods, each samara contains “a lunchbox” with enough food and water to sustain itself until it is able to take root elsewhere. This I came to appreciate, personally, in the weeks that followed that May afternoon as I weeded hundreds of tiny maple seedlings that had taken root in the raised beds of my garden.
The samara as metaphor is certainly an apt one for us as educators. As it is with the samaras, the students whom we send out into the world from our schools represent the potential and the promise of our future, and we can trust that these young people will carry out that responsibility well. As it is with the samaras, our graduates are prepared to fly, ready to spread their wings and spin with the wind to other destinations. As it is with the samaras, our soon-to-be alumni have all they need to thrive. They have applied themselves diligently to their academics, they have demonstrated their many talents on stage and backstage, on the athletic field, the cross country trail, the dance floor, and the art studio. They have given of themselves in service to others, whether to the youngest members of their own school community or to far-flung friends in other parts of the world. But most importantly, they have risen to meet the inevitable challenges that young people encounter in these times, and throughout it all their generosity of spirit and compassion for one another – qualities that have been nurtured in our schools – have shined through. Of all that will be required of them to thrive – wherever the wind takes them – these qualities are the most important.
Isn’t this what we’re essentially about in Friends education? We must certainly honor the roots that ground us in the work that we do. But beyond this let us celebrate the spiraling away, year after year, of those who are released from the care of our protective limbs, in full anticipation that their flight will be as dizzying, and as joyful, and as unpredictable as the whirligig’s, taking them to places and into experiences – and indeed, into lives – that we can only begin to imagine.
Jane Fremon
January 1, 2014