This curious (and friendly!) giant squid has popped by the elementary school community room to hang out for awhile. Crafted by the first, second, third, and fourth grade classes during their studio time with our art specialist,  Ken, as they investigate connections between art and science.  For inspiration, students experienced a little Melville and a little Jules Verne.  It’s a beautiful creature with color and crinkle and long, long tentacles.       

One of our fourth grade students made this sign to welcome prospective families to her classroom. She read it aloud to a tour group yesterday.  It’s always so exciting to know how much the children here love their school. This student’s mom says, ” She’s an excellent promoter of Waverly as she keeps telling us  she’s in for life and wishes Waverly had a college to attend as well.”

Last December I said good-bye.  I wrote my teary thank you letter in the WAVE to my co-chair and the Waverly community for the wonderful 7 years I worked on the World Market. I really did mean it.  It was time to pass the torch, let someone else know the joy and creativity that is the World Market. An event that represented more than just a school fundraiser to me,  it is a community gathering that is so very Waverly.  I was moving on to the Waverly middle school.  I felt I needed to take a step back from the elementary school and “graduate” with my son.

I was so sure of my conviction that I actually didn’t do any crafting for about six months.  Now, anybody who knows me knows that that is just crazy talk.  I love to craft, I live to craft.  But it was all fine.  I packed away all my World Market projects and supplies nice and neat in the garage.

Then summer came.  I ran into Samantha while dropping off our kids at summer camp.  Samantha was my co-chair last year and is co-chairing this year.  We started talking and she asked,  “You are going to make some things for the World Market, aren’t you?”   Well sure, I guess I could do that...

Almost five months later and I have made stuffed animals, felted wreaths, made magnetic chalkboards, mini cupcake stands, made journals out of cereal boxes and… my heart is singing!  What was I thinking? I could no easier give up the World Market than give up coffee (and I really love coffee).  And why should I!

I LOVE the World Market.  I love everything about the World Market. I have loved it since I first got involved with it when my son started Kindergarten.  I love getting together with a group of people and pooling our creative ideas about crafting and marketing and then actually producing items. I love our weekly meetings where the two co-chairs catch me up on the goings on at the elementary school and I give them a glimpse of what’s coming up in the middle school. I love seeing the whole Waverly community rallies together and donates items that they or their family have made.  I love seeing all the creativity that goes into the classroom projects and the pride the children take in creating and selling goods for their community.  There is something so special about peeking into the creative lives of others.

I LOVE the World Market.  I love set-up day when we transform the community room into a marketplace.  The love the laughter and camaraderie that fills the room as we set up walls, put tables in place, and unpack and place all the goodies for the shoppers the next day.

I LOVE the World Market.  I love opening the doors at 7:45 on Friday morning and seeing the first group of parents walk into the room.  It fills me with such pride.  We have created a store, for us, by us, the Waverly Community.  I love the kids’ squeals as they bound into the room, ready to make the important shopping decisions on what to buy for whom, and is it in their budget.  I’ve watched kids sit on the floor with their shoppers’ helpers and go through each item in their bag, making sure they haven’t left anyone out and of course making sure there is something in their bag for them!

I LOVE the World Market.  And I guess as long as I’m at Waverly, I’ll be involved.  Involved to advise, to listen to complaints or frustrations, bounce new ideas off of, to create, to set up and to break down. Just like Waverly is my blood, so is the World Market!

If you haven’t been to the World Market, COME.  It isn’t just for your children.  If you can, come early on Friday morning when it is pristine and untouched by little fingers.  I think you will be as proud of your Waverly community as we are.  Or come on Saturday, pick up yThe our child’s bag and leisurely shop. Its takes an entire village to create the World Market.  You helped.

COME.  And see for yourself.

Christy Dooley
Parent of a 7th Grader

The Waverly World Market runs Friday, December 9 (7:45 am – 6:00 pm) and Saturday, December 10 (10:00 am – 2:00 pm) in the Elementary School Community Room.

All eleventh graders at Waverly take a This I Believe class, intended to develop mindfulness and self-awareness while also helping them to foster their writing and public speaking skills.  I was invited to participate by composing and reading  my own This I Believe essay with the  class. Feeling grateful for this place, I am happy to share what I believe with you.

When I was in the ninth grade, I was assigned a five-paragraph essay about “Safety in the Home.”   I remember being somewhat dumbfounded that anyone would want to read thirty plus essays on why we shouldn’t plug a fan in next to the bathtub.  There wasn’t a discussion, an article, or anything to proceed or follow the assignment. I wrote the essay. I got a “B.”  I completed dozens of assignments such as this during my years in high school.  Math problems were endured, essays were written, historical facts memorized. I don’t remember a single class discussion or individual conversation with any teacher about how I was doing in their class. I remember getting grades and feeling vaguely disappointed when my grades mirrored my lack of inspiration.   I developed my writing skills during my high school career through notes I wrote during class to friends. In some classes, I was able to cover two full notebook pages front and back. I would fold them into tight squares, to be passed along between classes, the fruit of a fifty-minute instructional period. These missives, developed over class periods when only the teacher talked, held all my thinking.

My own children began their education in a small, parent-participation nursery school. The teachers were caring professionals with profound appreciation for play–play as the work of children.  In this place, my children constructed their own learning.  It was here that they first made play dough, prepared snacks for their classmates, and conducted science experiments in sand. They fed the snake, held the bunny, and watched baby chicks hatch from eggs. I wondered why this kind of education, where my children were engaged in discovery, had to end in preschool? I began to search for a different kind of school, and I found Waverly.

The brochure I received in the mail invited me to  “Imagine a school, where kids learn to think, to question, to reason, and to explore, where they develop as unique individuals, and where teachers guide, mentor, support and challenge.”

Never, at any point in my school experience did I find teachers who were guides or mentors.  The grades I received defined my instructors’ perceptions of me, and often of myself. I was intrigued by the possibility of a school valuing the importance of students’ engagement in their learning, and invited to play a more active role.  I felt hopeful that my children could be educated in an environment where their learning would not be reduced to a letter.

It has been seven years since I first held that brochure in my hand.  On the way to and from Waverly every day, my three children share their enthusiasm for their daily discoveries, their conversations with their teachers and their friends. They share their curiosity about the world, the stories they are writing and the insights of their classmates and teachers. They ask endless questions and sprint for the playground, often forgetting to shut the car door. From my office at the elementary school, I can hear them singing in the community room, and feel grateful I found this place. People ask me every day about our school, and I can tell them with certainty, I believe in Waverly.

–Jennifer Dakan
2nd, 4th, and 8th Grade Parent

I suppose all parents think their children are special. I know I do. But I think it’s safe to say that in quantifiable ways my son is probably more special than most. He was born with an extremely rare constellation of birth defects called VACTERL-H. And while you’re probably thinking you’ve never even heard of it, you have. Some of the more sensational manifestations of this condition are known as Sirenomelia, or Mermaid Syndrome, and Cyclopia. (And, yes, that is exactly what it sounds like it would be.) Add in unicorns and the fact that my son has two dads and you’ve got the makings of a new Tolkien franchise.

As a parent, it’s not easy to have a child with so many physical challenges. The medical issues are certainly weighty and ever-present, which I suspect is what most people think about when they imagine my journey. But what often goes unthought-of is that, alongside of those concerns, there is a tremendous amount of fear and worry that haunts me about how my child will be received in the world outside.

The difficult truth is that my son’s appearance, movements, and abilities are atypical. There’s nowhere to hide from that. And even if there were, I wouldn’t want him to feel the need to hide. In fact, I’ve spent most of his life training him to be as comfortable as possible with his differences. Unfortunately, people, and especially the young, can often be unkind to those perceived as different.

So by the time my son was 2, I was already looking ahead to find the safest possible educational option for him that was available. In any location. At any price. From the outset a K-12 program was a priority for me. My hope was that if the other children could get to know him from the beginning, as just Kyan, then by the time the difficult teen years set in at least his differences wouldn’t be news. And he would never have to be the new kid at a new school fielding endless questions about his very existence.

My search was both exhaustive and exhausting. For all their talk of diversity most private schools are surprisingly unprepared to integrate children with physical disabilities. Often their discomfort was painfully overt and explicit, but the subtle silences and awkward games of linguistic Twister were equally as disconcerting. The one thing that I knew for sure, though, was that if they weren’t even comfortable talking about my son’s condition, I wasn’t comfortable leaving him in their care.

Fortunately, somewhere along the way, I discovered Waverly. And while there were many things about the school that resonated with me, what struck me most profoundly was their complete nonchalance about considering and accommodating a child who at almost four was not even able to walk independently. They were totally at ease and entirely open to seeing what was possible, rather than what was potentially problematic. And the realization that I may have found a place where my son could be not simply accepted, but fully embraced, took my breath away.

After literally dozens of school tours, Waverly was the only school we applied to.

Of course, it’s always impossible to know from the outside if a product will fulfill the promise of its commercial. (Flowbee anyone?) So over the last year I’ve participated in the classroom. I’ve sat in on art, music, P.E. and library time. I’ve chaperoned all the field trips and excursions to the farm. And I’ve served pizza on the playground to the entire elementary school every Friday.

I needed to see for myself how the students, teachers, and administration acted and interacted with each other. I wanted to get to know the kids and their parents. And I wanted them to know me. See, I believe that there is a heightened mutual accountability that comes along with knowing someone.

What I’ve witnessed is as remarkable as it is reassuring. From students to parents to faculty, there is a pervasive atmosphere at Waverly of kindness, courtesy, and respect. Certainly no person or place is ever perfect. But I honestly did not know kids like this growing up. Much less a whole school of them.

In hindsight I realize that I came here with an invisible diversity checklist. And I could check off all my line items. Of course, some had more check marks than others. But I suppose I really just wanted to make sure that my child wasn’t the only “Other.” What I’ve learned is that it isn’t our differences that define the Waverly family. It’s our commonality.

No matter who we are or what unique experience we bring, we all have a place at the table and something valuable to contribute. We’re all on the same journey together. The Waverly way is not about diversity for the sake of diversity. It’s about diversity for the sake of community. We have been brought together by what we share: The goal of raising our children to be decent, thoughtful, compassionate human beings.

On our admissions application there was a question that asked about our “top priorities” when thinking about our child’s education going forward. I don’t know what the desired answer was supposed to be. But I answered that my primary concern was Kyan’s emotional and physical safety. What I didn’t fully appreciate was that my end goal was Waverly’s beginning premise. A safe and inclusive environment is conducive to learning. And not just the kind of learning that comes from books.

I sent Kyan to school on the first day nervous about his entrance into the world outside. But a year later it doesn’t feel so much like the world outside. At least not the one I had envisioned. It feels like home. Like family. But if our families and our children are any indication of where the world outside is headed, I am truly comforted. And optimistic for the future.

–Alex Jory
1st Grade Parent

The Waverly School arrived in my life like some sort of granted wish.  It’s as if I willed it and its staff into existence from my most pie-in-the-sky hopes for my children’s education.

Once we had children, I started panicking about the state of public education, and started daydreaming about some impossible alternative.  What I saw blurrily floating before me was:

1. A modest, energetic place – not too big or small – where children run through the door in the morning shrieking gleefully and run out the door in the afternoon even happier.
2. A place where children with unusual personalities or gifts are treated like a delicious bit of variety and are respected for their eccentricity rather than punished for it.
3. A place where the unextraordinary student is welcomed and loved and fully embraced just as the flashy ones are.
4. A place with a sense of humor – mostly about itself.
5. A place where theories of learning and ideologies of pedagogy are only in direct service to the peculiarities of each student standing before them.
6. A place where the parents like each other and socialize together.
7. A place where kids feel like kids, not some improbable farm-team Olympians for the universities and their admissions offices.
8. A place where I feel relaxed.
9. Where I’m not my child’s only advocate.
10. Where the kids look after the younger ones.
11. Where the parents not only participate but enjoy it.
12. Where my kids smile a lot.

Waverly has it all.  I feel like I’m living in cloud-cuckoo land and any minute someone will wake me up and tell me my kids are throwing bottles at passing cars over the fence during recess, and they haven’t been to class in two months.

Thank you, Waverly, for actually existing outside my head.

–Michael Higgins
Kindergarten and 2nd Grade Parent

Last year, Katie asked me, “Mom, when Joe and I are at school, what is your favorite day of the week?”  (Her favorite day:  PE-and-Music-with-Michael- and-Josie day.)  I thought a little.  “Wednesday, definitely, Wednesday.”  On Wednesdays, Maki Lou and I had been routinely catching up on chores at the farm.  We’d go down after dropping off the kids and dig up some beds, pull weeds, tangle with the blackberries—whatever needed doing.  It might seem strange to pick a day of sometimes hard manual labor as a favorite, but I love spending time outdoors, working with a friend, talking, sometimes not talking… the peaceful camaraderie can calm and soothe your soul.  And there are so few things in the world that you can fix or make better, but in an hour or two, you can turn a weedy plot into something beautiful.

A few more parents (and grandparents) started to join us, so this year we are making Wednesday an official, open work day.  From nine till around one, we’ll be at the farm—come on down if you like, for some fresh air, an upper body work out, and some free and highly effective therapy.  (Not to mention work hours!)

–Barbara Ayers,  Waverly Organic Farm Coordinator

Two summers ago, I felt the need to see what all the fuss regarding the Stephanie Meyers Twilight series was about, as so many of my students were abuzz with obsessive fandom or vitriolic criticism—or sometimes, strangely, both. I opened the first novel, and two weeks, three books, and 1,700 pages later, came up for air.

My assessment: the novels are overwritten in mediocre prose and center on an annoyingly passive and petulant victim of a heroine, Bella.

I also found them utterly addictive.

I am a fan of Buffy the Vampire Slayer and the HBO series True Blood, as well, neither of which qualifies as high art. So what is it about the vampire mythology that continues to seduce such a large (mostly female) audience?

I decided to take on this question in my junior/senior Women’s Literature class, in which the students and I are exploring the Gothic Romantic tradition through a variety of texts. We are starting the year with an examination of the darker aspects of fairy tales, then moving on to a series of novels written by women, from Jane Austen’s satiric take on the genre, Northanger Abbey, to two unapologetically romantic classics: Jane Eyre, by Charlotte Brontë and Rebecca, by Daphne Du Maurier. We will end the semester with modern and contemporary takes on the Gothic tradition, from the short fiction of Flannery O’ Connor to the poetry of Louise Glück.

Many of the heroines in these texts can be every bit as passive as Bella (think Sleeping Beauty’s hundred year coma), but all exercise their agency in subtle and surprising ways in spite of social constraints. And let’s face it: so many of us are still drawn to the dark mysteries, whether in the form of ravenous vampires, or the inscrutable psychology of a love interest, or the depths of a shadowy forest.

–Rebecca Figueroa,  High School English Teacher