In my head, there is an amazing school.
The kids have choices, but not too many. They have access to things that parents place out of reach to keep safe (the things, not the children). Not naughty things, like candy and cookies; beautiful things like crystal owls; useful things like computers; messy things like paint and flour and eggs and glue, that are so useful in so many ways ...
In my school, the rules are simple and clear: Be kind, be careful, be busy, be cheerful. Ask for help when you need it.
The teachers rarely say, "No."
The school is clean with a lot of interesting things to look at and touch and put together and take apart.
But every activity or project has three parts: Plan it, Do it, Clean it up. And we all try very hard to remember all three steps so that our school is useful.
Mostly, the teachers are quiet and unobtrusive. They encourage and remind. They answer the questions that are asked, but don't make children sit thru boring lectures.
My school is like an imaginary friend and I wish it to be real and solid, but there is so much to do ...
It consumes my thoughts. The feeling like I need to make it real ... Like a sculpture that is trapped inside a stone and is begging me, inadequate, untrained me, to pick up a chisel and start.
But I am so afraid of messing it up ... The project is so big and overwhelming and important ... I just stand here ... Tools at hand and no idea where to make the first permanent and irreversible attempt.