Unintentional
Learning Within An Intentional Community By Paul Rathgeb
Kids’ Skit Day was set to take place
around an outside fire ring on an autumn Saturday. Kids and adults alike
spread the news to others, but the day arrived with a dripping cloudy
overcast. However, the weather did not dampen our spirits; we had made a
promise to the kids and the show went on. We kept dry indoors, within
the living space we refer to as the “main house”, on the grounds of an
intentional community just on the outskirts of downtown Olympia,
Washington. This space is always transforming to meet the needs and
demands of about 11 adults and six kids who live among six different
structures on roughly 40 acres.
Usually, when explaining the living
situation, members of the community commonly refer to it as an
intentional community, an eco-village or “a synergy of like-minded
people who chose to share common interests.” I write as a former member
of the community, which has invested richness in preserving the ecology
of the area and in living sustainably, through the practices of sharing
housing, a few biodiesel vehicles, garden space, bulk food and child
care. The community is prolific at creating circumstances by which youth
can be an integral part of the group dynamic. This was one of those
moments where the main house suited the creation of the people who live
there, as we sat in a circle on the floor to begin our first Kids’ Skit
Day.
Just to be in tune with the weather,
we began by singing “itsy bitsy spider went up the water spout…”
followed by the hokey pokey, while turning ourselves around and flailing
all about. Randomly, we all volunteered a song, a joke or a skit, and
the kids didn’t mind leading a gig. Some kids frolicked around playing
dress-up with the wildest of hats and bright attire, one girl wearing a
colorful tassel skirt with pink “princess” shoes. Everyone within the
circle had an opportunity to share in jokes, skits and songs. One of the
boys told a series of quite comical “knock-knock jokes.” I orchestrated
an interactive song, from an outdoor summer camp where I interned years
ago. It went something like… “We come from the mountains (chorus)…go
back to the mountains and turn the world around.” Well…let’s just say I
winged it with a little improvisation, as most did. There was a mix of
adults and kids who showed up for the afternoon extravaganza, as the
intentional community has a history of creative projects, activities and
events, which seem to develop with minor, if any, formal planning.
On an average of once a month the
community holds a traditional event we call “music night.” Originally it
sprang up from a former member who would call and invite friends and
family outside the community to convene for an evening potluck followed
by a jam session. The main house is usually stocked with an assortment
of musical instruments. Communal instruments, which have been donated
through the years, are also available for kids to play. And, oftentimes
the kids like to chime in with drums, rattles, shakers or fancy
footwork. Friends and guests of the community sometimes bring their own
instruments, snacks and beverages, to share songs, riffs, beats and
conversation. At times it would elevate to a point of foot stomping, hip
shaking, lyrical freestyles, with occasional harmonies and someone
spurting out “spoken word.” Music night’s moods will shift often
according to the mood and energy of the crowd it draws, sometimes a
mellow intimate gathering and other times a musical party. In either
case music night is what the youth and adults make of it, usually fully
participatory, without any audience.
Every few months the community hosts
a kiln firing, as one of the members is a talented potter. The kiln in
set behind the main house, built by the hands of community members and
local artists who are part of a “clay co-op.” Made of cob, organic
matter and flints of stone and laced with fragments of tiles, shells and
crystals, the kiln is stoked to a raging temperature of about 2,500
degrees. Firing up the kiln is a weekend affair, where a few cords of
wood are used to keep a steady regulation of heat and smoke, to achieve
the desired effects onto glazed ceramics. Oftentimes, youth have their
clay work packed into the Volkswagen bug-size kiln and much anticipation
is centered on seeing the finished products.
In the beginning stages of feeding
the fire, it reaches a suitable heat for cooking pizza and a “kiln
firing weekend” usually collaborates well with a pizza party. Dough is
rolled out from scratch, tomatoes are sometimes picked for the sauce and
toppings are harvested from the garden while other ingredients are
bought from the local food co-op. Adults and kids have a field day
customizing their own pizza pies, which are then either slid into the
kiln or the kitchen oven.
Two summers ago, we set up a work
party to install a playground for youth in the community. Much of the
summer time is spent frolicking in the garden, tilling soil, planting
“starters,” weeding, installing hoop houses, or cutting back on arduous
blackberries. Oftentimes, garden work can be contagious on sunny days,
as one or two people will begin working in the garden and soon others
will follow as the idea rubs off on them. I have observed this pattern
of “synergy behavior” on many occasions, always emerging when
like-minded people are clustered together, for the benefit of the whole.
All our work input into the garden is mutually beneficial, as it
provides free, nutritious organic food for those within the community.
The organic garden is about an acre in size. Youth willingly assist in
some garden projects; however, most do not take much interest, except
when strawberries and raspberries start to emerge. In fact, I once
watched some kids devour unripe, premature strawberries before my eyes
while making an endorsement as to how good they tasted. Not feeling
quite as bold, I decided to pass on their generous offer.
Because of their young ages and lack
of concentration on sometimes tedious garden work, the community decided
to create a playground directly beside the garden plot. This provides a
safe place for kids to gravitate towards while parents and other
community members poke away at any gardening tasks. After some
brainstorming and a bit of playground research, the playground took
root, starting with a tire wall for kids to test their balance, a tire
swing under a apple tree and then two swings made from wood salvaged
from a couple of down alders. And the playground continues to keep
growing, as the kids have many creative ways of implementing play.
More recently, they have acquired 16
chickens and a coop, nestled right at the tail end of the garden. The
kids enjoyed naming them and scooping them up to hold, especially when
they were hen-size. Now that the chicks are older, the kids take pride
in feeding and gathering the eggs, which are then counted and equally
parceled off among the residents.
Most of the kids are unschooled,
learning without any academic structure or curriculum while having free
range to explore the wonders of life inside and beyond the intentional
community. Some of the other kids attend a local alternative-based
public school. Generally speaking, the intentional community is a
special place supportive of each individual’s intrinsic right to follow
their inner compass when it comes to learning. These kids have been
deeply trusted by the adults to discover their own interests, free from
any classroom coercion, punishments, rewards and compartmentalized
subjects.
And the community provides an oasis
for learning, as residents have a strong desire to live harmoniously,
sustainably and directly democratically in the ebb and flow of life’s
experiences. In my year-long residency, many optimal moments of learning
occurred, often times unexpectedly and through the cooperation of
like-minded people. Young people, certainly within this intentional
community, are masterminds of their own play and imagination. Their
brilliancy never ceases to amaze me.
Azaria, one of the older kids out of
the bunch (also unschooled) has, on numerous occasions, pointed out
species of native plants growing on the fringe of the 40 acres and is
constantly bombarding adults with inquisitive blue eyes, throwing out
questions a mile a minute. With a natural impulsiveness to explore,
Azaria is a confident and outgoing six-year-old with a lightning-speed
desire to learn. Schools, inundated with rules and regulations, would
only fracture the spirit of Azaria’s innate love for learning. Within
the community, he and his younger brother thrive with a plethora of
ongoing adult/kid projects, constant uninterrupted dialogue and creative
imaginative play. There is not one television within the community, and
this is not because of any rules or stipulations, just a matter of each
resident’s individual choice.
The community is a river of
resources and learning occurs minimally separated from work or play.
Although individuality is well respected, people within an intentional
community discover a diverse richness through sharing. Childcare is
usually posted on top of the parental priority list and members of the
community strive to lend a hand. Food, cars and housing can also be
shared, which instills a high value on human relations to the kids who
are being raised in this environment.
Kids growing up within an
intentional community are far from being sheltered from contemporary
culture, as interdependence, responsibility, cooperation, education, and
self-reliance are the fundamental building blocks of living and learning
in a community. Instead, kids within intentional communities have the
capacity to become confident contributors to social change amidst a
mainstream culture heavily indoctrinated with institutions of industry,
education, economics, and war, for the simple fact they have lived a
radically different lifestyle. Intentional communities are much more
than any school could provide, with ample space for unbounded and
unfettered learning, where kids have the freedom to openly explore their
world, and where the true “experts” are the loving adults within their
lives.
Intentional communities present
ideal relations for direct democracy, as kids often model adults. Youth
learn a valuable life lesson in problem-solving and in critically
compassionate conversation, as they are just as important in keeping
fluid communication among the intentional community as adults. However,
this particular community did not encourage the kids to participate in
meetings, due to many disruptions and their highly energetic young ages.
But I do support having youth integrated into community governance when
they are self-disciplined enough to sit through the process or take an
interest, at any age.
Much of the interactive play among
youth in the community happens with little, if any, adult supervision,
unless an adult is playing with them. There is a high level of trust
centered on the kids, and never have I heard of any child straying away
or getting badly injured; fortunately, the community is a safe rural
area to roam. Adults do not interfere or impose structure on youth with
their adventure of play; they are free to sit or roll around in puddles
after rainy days, be noisy, make messes, solve their own problems and
make mistakes.
Never is there a dull moment in a
busy hive of an intentional community. Youth and adults enjoy the
constant interaction and exploration with ample room for privacy and
solitude, when needed. Learning in an intentional community is not some
abstract concept; it is a part of living. And what better way to have
the kindness of supportive neighbors than in our own backyards?
Paul Rathgeb is a writer and youth activist learning on a long stretch of road in the northwest, somewhere between Seattle and Olympia,
where he works with a free school,
and assists with coordinating a hodge-podge of projects, where
somehow learning occurs. On his weekly visits to Olympia, he
occasionally stops off at an intentional community, which was once his nest in the rural outskirts of Washington state’s capital. Living now in a holistic household with four other beloved roommates including his sweetheart, who are studying everything from acupuncture, massage, herbal medicine, alternative medicine, midwifery and nursing, his teachers are all around. Paul plans to complete his first non-fiction book within the next year, while working to establish a media program for disenfranchised teens. This article was
published in Life Learning Magazine in 2006.
