Weeks 6 & 7 2025-2026 in Review

We began this learning cycle with intention that may have looked from the outside like slowness - and the pace was slow some days, but it was slow with purpose and focus. We were (and are always) building culture, and creating a relational roadmap for where we're headed. Lots of conversation and connection unfold around questions like, "What do we want to feel like when we're here together? Who do we want to be - how will we make that happen?" We honed in on these answers and refined them a bit - what are my needs? And what do I need from others when I'm here? 

We smushed so very many things into the final two weeks of this cycle in what felt like a wild crescendo - both between offerings on the board and what we refer to as the "shadow schedule": DnD; musical explorations that culminated in a jam session around the fire; The Kitchen Frenzy that included homemade donuts, from-scratch pumpkin pies, homemade marshmallows, green tomato salsa, and other delights that we're probably forgetting; cyanotyping with guest artist Christopher Woodward; our pumpkin patch field trip; all-day pumpkin carving; so much Cardboard City; a forest expedition that produced multiple treasures from the forest floor; cartography and map-creation of the campus land; experimentation with sunlight and magnifying glasses and SPARKS; mud play; tree-hugging; garden-harvesting; watching monarchs pass through our native gardens; various tabletop games and cards; examining and identifying lichen on a felled tree; and more.

The ever-expanding Cardboard City occupied everyone's attention and focus, a truly free-play adventure that has spanned the course of more than two weeks (and is still ongoing). As it's evolved, the young people have experimented with themes of civic structure, majority-rule voting vs. consensus, leadership, punishment, community services that meet basic needs, mental health supports, jobs, and beyond. When conversations within the context of play evolved to include implementing a police force in the city, the group soon realized there simply wasn't a need for law enforcement. "The job itself was boring because no one was committing any crimes," we heard, so they abolished it. The group created "laws" centered on community safety, primarily. Residents generated cardboard currency that could be used to pay for goods and services. A was appointed the city therapist, and her services were free to all, with some residents enthusiastically pursuing them. Others stuck close to home, puttering happily with constructing their living quarters and polishing their mailboxes. The mail delivery system in the city was a very efficient municipal service. The city has seen a few "presidents" or mayors since its inception, and it remains to be seen where city leadership stands when we return from our fall break. 

Children naturally explore themes of domination and punishment in their play, because these are themes that exist in our shared world, and this is one way that they exert healthy power and control within that reality as well as refine their own growing moral selves. The role of the adults adjacent to this play is to remain attuned and aware, and to say, well, just about nothing - unless hazards emerge or true physical or emotional safety is threatened. We intervene if we see a need to check on whether what is unfolding is fully consensual, and if there are complex social, racial, or power dynamics at play.

And - if we step in, the children almost always look at us, grin broadly, and emphasize that yes, they're fully consenting, and that yes, this is FUN, with a "And go away now, please" energy. So into the periphery we return.

Prior to leaving for our fall break, we had to face the difficult reality that Cardboard City would need to be temporarily moved and stored so that the structures were protected from the weather and other elements. As a beautiful reminder of the truth that we never know where fully free play might lead, at least one contingent of young people has expressed interest in constructing a "real apartment" out of wood and other construction materials. We'll touch base about this curiosity and where they'd like to take it - what materials do they envision using? How might they plan the construction before getting those materials? What's a possible budget for this project? And so on. 

Every day here, we're holding the tenuousness of supporting young people in their autonomy in a world that seeks to erode that autonomy - through building and communicating trust, nurturing connection, and encouraging empowerment and agency. Paradoxically, that often means we are saying less, not more - and any questions we pose are what we think of as lateral or horizontal - open-ended, and coming from a place that recognizes that the young people here are people. They're sovereign human beings, and we actually don't know best or better, just because we're adults. Sometimes we might be inclined to "nudge" - and if we do, our relationship and the trust we've built with the young person remains central and paramount. As a space dedicated to the rights of young people, we practice collaboration, not coercion. A young person here offered recently, "I was glad for the nudge - I ended up (really enjoying a given process). What you said didn't feel coercive or persuasive; it just felt like you were offering an idea and I could take it or not. And sometimes, a nudge DOES feel coercive, because we can tell when you want us to do a thing." We don't nudge if that nudge will erode trust or undermine the relationship we've built. Kids can feel it when we're moving with a spirit of coercion; when we're bringing our own ideas to the table with the fervent hope they'll finally pick them up and run. We love this conversation about the difference between nudging and coercion on the Rethinking SDE podcast - give it a listen! This question is ever-present in SDE spaces, and one worth exploring together.

The next time any of us feels compelled to offer a young person a nudge, or ask a pointed question, or make what we think is a benign suggestion, consider: what's our intention? Is it rooted in shared humanity and personhood, or is it rooted in something else? Like fear, or a hidden agenda, or an outcome we'd like to steer the young person towards? To what extent might we be so attached to the outcome that we'd feel something like disappointment or even frustration if the young person rejected it? Do we feel steady and empowered in our body, or…something else? A litmus test we like to ask ourselves as adults in this space is: "Would I say this to a peer or my partner or any other adult? If I did, how would that go?" And if you realize you wouldn't, we invite you to consider why. 

What do we believe about the children in our lives, and our relationships with them, and what our roles are? 

What are we willing to shift and do differently in those relationships so that they're rooted in shared personhood, humanity, and trust, rather than fear, domination, or coercion? 

With gratitude, care, and ongoing shared struggle in this work,

Emily, Sarah, and Zoey