“The only way to deal with an unfree world
is to become so absolutely free that your
very existence is an act of rebellion.”
~Albert Camus
When I was 28 years old, my ex-wife and I got pregnant with our first child. I was in the middle of graduate school, training to become a teacher. Tasha was already teaching full time. We made the only choice we felt two dedicated educators could make concerning the future of our child: Tasha kept teaching during the day while I stayed home with our daughter. I worked part-time at the university after Tasha got home from work. We refused to pay someone else to raise our daughter.
It felt like an act of rebellion.
When our son was born two and a half years later, we kept at it. I managed to piece work together around Tasha’s work schedule until my daughter was entering middle school and my son was entering 4th grade.
Middle school was not something I think any of us look forward to sending our children off to. Fortunately for us, an opportunity came up for me to take over a floundering public Montessori middle school program close to our home. It was a thrilling and intimidating opportunity.
I’d been working part-time with the school for four years as their “tech guy.” The principal of the school gave me her full support to re-build the program from scratch. I was responsible for teaching all of the subjects for a 7th/8th grade blended classroom of exactly 20 students. Including my daughter.
There were no textbooks for math or science. There was no curriculum for language arts or social studies. It was up to me to come up with a differentiated Montessori program covering those core subjects in accordance with the Oregon State Standards.
I did what any (in)sane educator would do: I built a project-based Montessori program rooted in the Scientific Method and Social Justice. I also taught art and music. The students only had a PE specialist twice a week, so I taught PE an additional two days a week.
I felt like a revolutionary.
It took a solid six years of experimentation, four of which included both of my children as students, to revise the program into a middle school I would send my children to. I taught there for six years after my youngest child had moved on to high school. I resigned after the 2022-23 school year.
The most important thing my students and I learned and practiced together was how to build and maintain a loving, respectful learning environment where each of us felt safe to learn, explore, and grow. Our role as leaders in our community was also an important part of the work we did through volunteering and social activism.
This is what I miss most about being a Montessori teacher: being an impactful leader in my community by engaging my students in action outside the classroom.
This is the whole I’ve been trying to feel.
For the last 5 days, I have been wandering the streets of Oaxaca with Mija, literally surrounded by social activism. Art is everywhere. The walls between Art galleries are emblazoned with challenging wheat-pasted artwork printed on “papel de revolucion,” basically newsprint that is both temporary and biodegradable.
The prints and murals are not just provocative and socially conscious, they are celebratory of Oaxacan cultural heritage and traditions. The art often features images emphasizing the close ties between Oaxaqueños and the natural world and animals. Artists in Oaxaca are among the most respected and socially and politically active and influential people in society. (Look up Francisco Toledo!)
Coming from the United States, where Art is viewed mainly through the lens of monetary value, I am deeply moved by the social value and cultural importance of Art in Oaxaca. I am inspired by the courage and creativity of these artists and art collectives. I am in awe of the well-deserved love and respect Oaxaqueños feel for their Artists.
So many of my friends, family, and former students feel hopeless about the state of American society. They feel powerless to lead productive social action. Maybe it’s time to turn off our televisions and get off of social media. Maybe it’s time to embrace our Artists. Maybe it’s time to cover the walls of our cities with dreams of how we envision ourselves to become.
Maybe it’s time for all of us to be revolutionaries.
Hasta luego.