Marines buzz cut and over his folded arms), you could see that he had already diagnosed Daniel. He could see clearly that Daniel was a skateboarder and he knew that was “trouble in River City.” In fact, he once said (while Daniel was in the room), “Kids who skateboard are always trouble.”
It Takes a Village
According to an oft-quoted African proverb “It takes a village to raise a child.” In other words, all the people, values, institutions, and other cultural components of a village should cooperate harmoniously around the nurture, protection, and preparation of each child.
But what happens when the village does not contribute to the safe and orderly maturation of a child? The 2015 “Best Picture” Academy Award went to Spotlight, a movie about the sex abuse scandal in the Roman Catholic Archdiocese of Boston. After quoting “It takes a village to raise a child,” one of the main characters in the film observes that it also takes a village to abuse one.
I agree.
After the Machine damaged Emily, Lisa and I felt wounded, angry, and drained. Naturally, we wondered at what point we had missed an opportunity to support our child. We strained to see what we might have done differently. I thought, “Hell, if my background as an executive, my work as an author and futurist, my understanding of negotiating and championing causes can't budge the Machine for one little girl with a clear need and a clear right – does anyone have a chance?”
Here's the point: two educated, responsible, caring, and hard-working parents could not make the Machine care for, or even protect, those who were entrusted to it.
In addition to all that, we hired doctors and experts to help them. In doing so, we reached out to “the village” as clearly and forcefully as we could. We pushed every button and pulled every lever we could find. I'm sure we made mistakes. But, here's the point: two educated, responsible, caring, and hard-working parents could not make the Machine care for, or even protect, those who were entrusted to it. We felt, whether accurately or not, that the village —our village– had participated in the abuse of our kids.
When Caleb began to show similar reactions to the Machine, we moved more quickly and boldly. First, I gave him the new Gallup student assessment tool, “Strengths Explorer” (it was not available when Emily and Daniel were in school). It revealed that Caleb would do best in a small, safe learning environment that allowed him to explore his creativity. From our experiences with Emily and Daniel, we knew that would never happen in public school.
One day, Lisa called me while I was on a business trip. “Let's homeschool Caleb.”
Of course, I was already very busy in my career. So I began expressing my reservations. But within 10 minutes I changed from feeling defensive about to being skeptical of to expressing full support of the idea. Lisa showed me how home schooling was not only the perfect fit for Caleb but it would also draw upon both our unique gifts and interests.
When we asked Caleb to pick a musical instrument as part of his education, he started playing around on our 15-year-old keyboard. With initial instruction from Lisa, he soon fell in love with music, films, and film score composition.
Over time, Lisa and I watched Caleb step into what author Dan Pink describes as the three elements of total motivation: autonomy, purpose, and mastery. In short, we saw the astounding difference in his experience and engagement level compared to Emily and Daniel. When we moved into the more advanced course work in high school, the Internet became a third teacher in our house. It all worked.
Engaging in education that supported autonomy, purpose, and mastery gave Caleb – and his parents! – a whole new grip on learning. After completing his K–12 education in full engagement mode, he was recently accepted to the Berklee College of Music in Boston. Furthermore, Emily and Daniel are also doing well. At last, the Miller family escaped the great machine.
What grips me now as I review our experiences is the realization that Lisa and I were mature, resourceful, serious about our children, and determined to do and get the right things for them. And we could not do it.
That is because “it takes a village.” Let me explain.
The Machine broke Daniel during his senior year. Ironically he also achieved his Eagle Scout Award the same year. The same as with his schooling, we struggled long and hard with his focus and follow-through in Boy Scouts. Every mile and every moment of his journey was hard. And in the end it was high drama: Daniel completed his final requirement and was qualified as an Eagle Scout only three hours before his eighteenth birthday – the deadline! Kevin Christ, Daniel's Scout leader, was in our kitchen quizzing him while I paced like an expectant father in the living room. Then they emerged from the kitchen smiling and the leader extended his hand to me.
“Congratulations, Mr. Miller, your son is an Eagle Scout!”
He shook his head, sipped coffee, and laughed, “I've never had one get down to the wire like this. But I've never lost a boy who told me he wanted to become an Eagle.” I was exhausted and grateful. And, like most fathers, I played no part in the delivery.
Schools that were failing 56 years ago are still failing. Our business model makes no sense. And we have run out of time!
So, what was the difference? Education had become a soul-crushing Machine, but the Boy Scouts was like a family. Daniel's troop was a community of caring parents and Scout leaders; we were all in it together. I was part of this community; I camped, hiked, and provided merit badge counseling and mentoring to a number of kids. We were a village. We took every child seriously and personally.
Today, I so often think about those who live in “underserved” communities. What hope do they have? How can they conquer the Machine? No wonder that educator Geoffrey Canada says (of his own K–12 path), “Schools that were failing 56 years ago are still failing. Our business model makes no sense. And we have run out of time!” Underserved communities now represent, not years or even decades, but generations of K–12 failure and abuse.
No matter who you are or where you live, this thing is personal. This story is about every city, community, parent, student, teacher, administrator, and citizen.
After two years of research and work with more than 60 educators and others with a stake in seeing our schools work and our kids succeed, I and many others are convinced that it just doesn't have to be this way.
But – and this is very important – the solutions will not come from the usual sources. We cannot wait for reform efforts to make any difference. Reform has been the Machine's solution for change since at least 1955 – that's right, more than 60 years! But reform is often just a reshuffling of the special interests that feed at the “education cafeteria.” Furthermore, reform creates sandcastles and mirages. Sandcastles don't survive the first wave that crashes on the beach and mirages aren't real.
Our work on this book verified that education is often a cold, organized, and dehumanizing mass of rules, concepts, and metrics. But, as you will also see throughout this book, learning is a profoundly human, organic, and ennobling pursuit of personal dreams and progress.
The Collaborative Hum
Our collection of 60 educators, scholars, designers, futurists, and other specialists saw Education Machines all across the country that had been humbled and humanized. What these efforts produced were not sandcastle or mirages, but oases in otherwise arid wastelands. We've seen thousands of kids as engaged in these schools as Caleb was in our home, empowered by autonomy, purpose, and mastery.
We
