SelfDesign Learning Systems Inc.

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Belonging to a Unique Learning Community

by Devon Girard

- an excerpt from the book
SelfDesign: Nurturing Genius through Natural Learning
(by Brent Cameron and Barbara Meyer)

Wondertree entered my life when I was a ten-year-old seeking refuge from the social challenges of elementary school. I wanted relief from the incessant teasing and crushing negativity of my classmates. Wondertree delivered, and then some.
What my small circle of new friends lacked in numbers was made up for in quality, and with my social phobias somewhat dissolved I quickly settled in. I participated at the small Wondertree learning center for three years, and then joined the newly created Virtual High, founded by the same organization for teenage students. After a further three years at Virtual High I chose to graduate and pursue life on my own.
Belonging to this unique learning community has influenced me beyond measure, giving me things I have only been able to appreciate fully in retrospect. During my time at Virtual High I was quite busy coping with my own journey through adolescence, and I rarely philosophized on the long-term merits of my alternative education. Now, after several years of independence and adventure, I have become aware of and grateful for the subtler benefits of my learning experiences -- and of the underlying, undeclared Wondertree curriculum.
As is the case with all new students of Wondertree, I was initially asked to outline my interests and suggest projects or subjects I might want to pursue. The students collectively controlled the budget, hiring mentors or purchasing equipment according to group interests. This was quite a change for a frustrated fourth-grader, yet the shift was highly agreeable. Soon I was strutting around the learning center like I ran the place.
And I did, in a communal sort of way.
One of my first engaging projects was a software program co-authored with a classmate, which we submitted to a regional science fair and for which we earned first prize in the computer science division. My enthusiasm for programming continued to grow, and with Wondertree's support I pursued software development almost exclusively for the remainder of my first year.
Before my 11th birthday I had landed my first "job" as a programmer, along with several other Wondertree students and our computer science mentor. The local energy utility contracted us to design and develop a simulation that showed how one could save money by using electricity more efficiently.
Throughout my remaining time at Wondertree and the following years at Virtual High, I continued to improve my programming skills for both profit and pleasure. Upon graduation I had developed a respectable portfolio and smoothly entered a career as a professional software engineer. For several years I worked in various capacities for a number of firms, making good money from work I found both challenging and rewarding.
In 1999, the repetitive strain of constant typing caught up with me, manifesting as a debilitating injury. After months of seeking treatment and modifying my workstation ergonomics, while stubbornly remaining at my job, the pain throughout my wrists and elbows reached critical levels and I stopped working to prevent nerve damage.
In the three years since the onset of my injury I have spent an estimated $15,000 on both alternative and conventional therapies. I have seen close to 30 practitioners specializing in over 10 distinct modalities in an effort to heal my arms. As of this writing I have experienced zero improvement in my condition despite my ongoing research, and I have slowly accepted that my career as a programmer is over.
This scale of crisis would rock anybody's boat, and perhaps me more than most given my specialized education. I had invested a huge chunk of my life in learning to be a competent programmer, and for my future in that field to be whisked away by an unexpected and poorly understood injury was heartbreaking. The stage might have been set for deep frustration and depression, yet I happened to be better prepared that I realized.
My academic interests at Virtual High were limited to programming, mathematics and miscellaneous sciences. I also participated in a variety of other courses, ranging from family dynamics to NLP to chess, yet these subjects combined accounted for less than half of my studies. The largest fraction of my time and energy was devoted to a huge number of miscellaneous pursuits that rarely resulted in any lasting interest or devotion. The tremendous value of this casual information-surfing has only struck me years later.
This unannounced and unscheduled activity was quietly popular among Virtual High students. Each one of us were consistently encouraged to pursue our own personal interests -- and if we had none, to get some. This was a challenging request for some and demanded considerable self-reflection to satisfy.
All of this time devoted to understanding and pursuing my own curiosities slowly shifted the manner in which I made decisions, and indeed the way I lived my life. This "looking-within" technique slowly evolved beyond superficial matters of subject preference and spawned an ongoing inquiry into the nature of who I am. Self-awareness and discovery was the unspoken foundation of every student's curriculum at Virtual High -- a foundation that I continue to build upon.
It's taken a long time for me to perceive my injury and consequent life changes as anything but tragic, yet in several very real ways I am happier now that I ever was as a healthy programmer. I am more appreciative of the resources and abilities I still have, and am beginning to recognize this involuntary change of course as encouragement to explore beyond my old horizons. Ironic that this should result from a physical disability of such a restrictive nature.
It seems important to me that throughout this process, academic skills were of little value. What stood by me was not my knowledge of arithmetic but rather an understanding of myself. Effectively re-inventing my identity is requiring a very thorough awareness of just how disappointed a part of me is -- acknowledging that, and then choosing to re-embrace life's mystery with fresh enthusiasm. The knowledge that I have but to look within to find my new direction is precious indeed.
In the time since my injury I have learned to use voice recognition software to a reasonable extent -- software that is enabling me to write these words. I've recently authored and self-published a backcountry snowshoeing guidebook for Vancouver's local mountains, an extremely satisfying project that I would never have attempted had my path not been diverted. I keep encountering new interests that I feel drawn to and enjoy pursuing -- and it is this frame of mind for which I am most grateful. I see now that Wondertree and Virtual High nurtured not just a love of learning, but a confidence and a trust in my own ability to adapt.
Hundreds of years ago, when any one person could still wrap their head around the bulk of human knowledge, it may have been practical (and desirable) to start your child off in life with a foundational understanding of various fields. Today the amount of information available to any person at any time is staggering, and it is simply unfeasible to expect all students to study all subjects. It seems to me that the only solution, which is equally practical, functional and satisfying, is for teachers to shift into the role of a knowledge navigator -- guiding and supporting their pupils in their own curiosities.
The difference between a student studying math because his teacher or father wants him to, and a student who has a sincere, self-originating interest in the subject, cannot be overstated. Math, that infamous subject of disdain, perfectly demonstrates how a spoon-fed curriculum is absorbed only under extreme protest and promptly forgotten (more often than not) upon graduation.
Being a student at Virtual High was far more demanding than being in a typical high school. It was also far more engaging, interesting and therefore enjoyable. Given the opportunity to pursue my own interests, I studied for longer hours with greater sincerity and retention at Virtual High than I would have otherwise. My studies seemed practical and relevant to my life, and I didn't go through the frustration that can accompany the comparatively abstract curriculum doled out in regular classrooms.
It seems ironic to me that we send our children to school in the hopes that a quality education will help them get ahead in life, when that very education so often smothers individual talent in the name of serving the many. The unique creativities and curiosities of each child (unless blatantly precocious) are downplayed or ignored in contrast with the all-important task of memorizing multiplication tables (or whatever the curriculum-of-the-day happens to be). As a result, after twelve years of disciplined attendance, our youth may have a decent grasp of basic academics and a honed ability to follow instructions, yet they lack any serious understanding of themselves.
It would be one thing if a high school education were of real value to today's youth and gave them some kind of edge, yet that is obviously not the case. Upon graduation most students still find themselves at the bottom of a very long ladder, staring up with heavy hearts -- along with everybody else. The rat race is just getting started.
Giving our children control of their own education is certainly risky business. All guarantees that they are keeping pace with their peers are abandoned and replaced with a simple trust that they will explore life of their own initiative. Fear of the unknown provides strong council against such a seemingly irresponsible choice, and indeed not sending your children to school is considered shockingly neglectful in our society. I mean, how else will they learn anything?
Underneath this shift in educational ideology lies an even more fundamental question of societal philosophy. Our current schools seem to me a classic product of industrialization, and an attempt to efficiently churn out citizens of superior quality. In the coming years I believe our society will benefit not from greater homogeneity (regardless of quality) but much more from increased diversity and cultural creativity -- and for me it is clear that key changes must occur in our classrooms.
Although the temptation to design a young person's life is supported by rational arguments of efficiency and popular social opinion, I firmly believe we will all benefit by simply helping our children find their own way -- however much they may stumble. In the end, they are the only ones qualified to decide.