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Farm Plants Seeds of Hope for
Hurting Children
By Marion Brady
*December 28, 2002
On a winding, two-lane country road about 60 miles north of New York City,
there's a place that should be visited by anyone who doubts that schooling can
change lives.
The place is "Green Chimneys," and it's been changing lives since it was
established in 1947 by Dr. Sam Ross. It's a school, a working farm, and a
sanctuary for kids and animals with serious problems.
Its success in turning kids and animals around testifies to the power of caring
and of unorthodox thinking about how and why the young learn.
The kids Green Chimneys turns around have a lot of turning to do. Many are from
the roughest sections of New York City. They come to Green Chimneys after "the
system" -- the education system, the legal system, the social welfare system,
the medical system -- has given up on them.
These aren't kids who've gotten in trouble for throwing spitballs or talking
back to their teachers. They're kids with serious problems -- emotionally
disturbed, angry, impulsive, depressed, aggressive, withdrawn. They've been in
and out of foster care, psychiatric hospitals and other special treatment
centers.
There are those who look with skepticism or even contempt at educator concern
for student self-esteem. They see it as "touchy feely" stuff, and believe that
it diverts attention from the books and lectures of "real" education. That view
has no place at Green Chimneys. They consider the student's sense of self of
primary importance, central to success not just in school but in life, so what
happens at the school is designed to find what little may be left of self-esteem
and nourish it.
One consequence of the experiences students bring with them to Green Chimneys is
a lack of trust in the adult world. The staff doesn't batter at that wall of
mistrust. Instead, they simply introduce new students to the ducks, pigs, hawks,
rabbits, cows, horses and other animals on the farm. Soon, they give them
responsibility for one particular animal, usually one that's been injured, sick
or abused. What seems to happen then is that the student senses the parallel
between the animal's condition and her or his own condition. Student and animal
spend a great deal of time together and, because the relationship is a secure
one, there's quiet talk and physical demonstrations of feelings.
Recently, I spent a day at Green Chimneys wandering from barns to classrooms to
stables and animal pens. I talked to students cleaning stalls and saddling
horses, discussed curriculum with faculty, watched classes in session, and ate
in the cafeteria with most of the present enrolment of 170 students. I spent a
fascinating hour watching five teenagers train puppies that will eventually
leave the farm as helpers for the handicapped.
A casual conversation with a secretary led to my watching a short video of a
small, frequently used ceremony.
When a student is about to return home, he or she releases to the wild a bird or
animal with which they've been working. In the version I saw, a boy of about
fourteen took a hawk from a cage, cradled it in his arms and petted it. With a
staff member and four friends, he walked across a broad meadow. Near a wooded
area they stopped, formed a circle and joined hands, holding the hawk in the
center. The boy told it goodbye, wished it luck, then all six swung their arms
up to give the bird height and released it.
When, for two or three seconds, it lost altitude, the boy motioned with his
hands as if trying to help and said softly, "Up, up!" The hawk gained altitude,
and the boy watched until it disappeared in the woods.
"Do you think it was ready to go home?" asked the staff member softly.
"He'll be okay," said the boy. It was apparent the symbolism wasn't lost on him.
Given human nature, it's unlikely that the Green Chimney experience works every
time. But it comes close. In hours of wandering freely around the farm and
school, I saw a warm sense of community, mutual respect and caring, a dynamic
academic program, and the easy teasing and laughter that says life is really
pretty good and things will probably turn out okay.
*Originally published in the Orlando Sentinel. Published here by
permission of the author.
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