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A Day in the Village

by Stephen de Brett

A Day in the Village by Stephen de Brett There is nothing quite like waking up in the Village. It is about 7 in the morning and I can hear the stirrings of the first to rise – distant sounds of breaking twigs and quiet murmurings as the morning fires are laid. Nearby, at the forge, small bands of newly wakened Villagers arrive to split their kindling. Wedges of steel are set in the anvils on which logs can be placed; with a smart blow from a hammer, small pieces are split from the log. This tap tapping is the morning call to the Village. I can also hear the patter of feet as a few runners pass my hut, setting out on their morning run with Alan, the art teacher. I leave the hut and I see one or two little groups, wash bags under arms and towels round necks, strolling over to where the showers are. Washing and teeth cleaning are not things we talk about much, but they seem to happen when they can. I wander on past the huts and up to a very secret space, tucked away behind some bushes and trees. This is the Bushcraft Workshop and our bushcrafters have just lit the neatest fire of carefully dried logs, the kettle has boiled, and I sit down for a while on one of the logs circling the fire, drinking a delicious tea made from wild leaves. Over the years, this very atmospheric little area has proved to be enormously significant. It is at the opposite end of the Village from the equally important Forge and the two areas seem to complement each other. An array of bushcraft activities takes place in the Bushcraft Workshop: the first lessons in knife use; carving spoons; making twine; making vessels and containers; tanning roadkill hides; and much more, including lessons on venturing out and foraging for food, which is used for cooking amazingly tasty recipes. Students also come to sit and whittle and just talk for long periods. I get the feeling that all these activities are just a pretext for this talk, and some surprising things get discussed. Sometimes it is personal, sometimes large topics are covered − last year there was a huge session on the nature of freedom. The Bushcraft Workshop is also a place to form a closer connection with nature and what nature has to offer, as well as understand the origin of materials and resources. Such spaces are important for processing or trying to understand life in the Village. Right now the priority is breakfast. Across the field comes the food cart loaded with provisions, pushed by the small team responsible for that day’s catering. With the cart parked in the centre of the Village, each hut collects what they need for breakfast. One hut has brought a huge hanging skillet, so big it can cook a whole breakfast for five in one go. 1

As I walk back down through the Village after my tea, I can see hut groups eating their breakfast. The big skillet looks like it is cooking for a neighbouring hut whose fire would not light. Several teachers seem to have been invited to breakfast by various hut groups. The relationship between student and teacher is so important in the Village. It tends to be more informal than in normal school life - still boundaried but more reciprocal. This opens up all kinds of learning opportunities and brings a new dynamic that can transform how students and teachers work together back in the classroom. In reality the Village can be quite tough. For all its pleasures, it can be cold and wet, a howling gale might be blowing – all of which we have experienced, sometimes at the same time – and in these situations everyone has to be resilient. Both staff and students have been through this experience together and, in a sense, both have shown what they are made of. Because of that, a different kind of respect enters the classroom. I continue my walk and come to the great log – a slice of the giant oak that for so many years stood by the amphitheatre. It used to provide shade and shelter and was a wonderful climbing tree. It was not uncommon to see a student sitting in the enormous fork in its branches, reading a book or just watching Village life. Sometimes we suspended a swing 3

from one of the highest large branches. The tree was also hollow and you could climb inside, but eventually it was considered unsafe and had to come down. All was not lost though, because we now have this great log, which has many uses, and a three-metre-high stump that can be sat upon. Right now the log is being used as a table and is surrounded by students learning how to make batter for their pancakes. By now of course I too am getting hungry, and I know just the place. I make my way down to the Forge where the blacksmiths have lit the forge and are using it to make bacon sandwiches. They have to watch the temperature though because, when it gets going, the forge is hot enough to melt steel. At that temperature bread becomes toast in a couple of seconds, which is fun – but it’s not so good for frying pans! We sit around a rough table eating our breakfast, relaxing and chatting about the day ahead. Meanwhile each hut is doing their washing up, clearing their space, and those who have a mind to are tidying their huts. One of the big issues of hut living is that some people need things to be tidy and some have a more relaxed approach, which can be, and often is, a source of conflict. Over the years, more than one student has said that one of the important things they learnt from the week was how to live with people who had different living habits. 4

One girl in particular explained to me that she was always very neat and particular but had found herself in a hut full of people who were much more laid back and not that tidy. Worst of all they did not seem to notice or even mind when someone brought mud into the hut. Initially, she said, she got very worked up about the mess and would clean out the whole hut every morning. But, she added, something changed for her during the week. She learnt how to talk about how she felt in a way that did not upset everyone. To her surprise, once her hut group understood what was going on with her they worked out a rough compromise. It might not have been perfect but what made such an impact on this girl was that at least they had a go and she loved that they wanted to do something helpful. She also said that she was learning how not to be quite so stressed about it and to accept a middle ground. This kind of thing happens year after year in these little hut families. With breakfast over, the Village bell (a piece of metal hanging from a tree) summons everyone to the amphitheatre for the morning meeting, the first of very few compulsory activities. In the Village, students are responsible for time, which for the most part is open and free, providing quite a deep level of student agency, independence and self-initiated collaboration. They can even choose to do nothing. However, the compulsory activities play a vital part in framing the day, providing a discipline and routine that help contain the whole 5

experience. They are moments when students do not have to choose what they are going to do, offering a kind of respite. The morning meeting starts with a short poem, or some other reading, followed by a minute or two of silence. I first encountered this in Russia, where it was not uncommon for families, or anyone else for that matter, to sit in silence for two minutes before going out on a journey. The origins of this custom, or even its purpose, seemed fairly vague. For us in the Village, such a pause was a good way for everyone to collect themselves before setting out on the day. Over the years we have explored a variety of approaches to this morning moment and especially the role played by silence. The student leaders of the day then introduce the meeting, which goes on for about twenty minutes. Activities are read out and, following this, visitors are asked to introduce themselves and their workshops. Teachers who come into the Village for an hour or two also describe the workshops they want to offer. Some are encouraged to come in without any agenda and see what opportunities present themselves.

With the meeting over, there follows a second compulsory activity. We all go up to the upper tennis court for ten minutes of morning exercise. This activity has emerged in recent years and is always very popular. A student always leads the exercises and this morning the leader is a girl who studies dance. She is brilliant. There is a lot of laughter as she puts us through all her crazy moves and contortions. Teachers must take part, no excuses. Once the exercises are over, the students move quickly to their chosen activities and workshops. A few seem to be going to their huts for a chat. There are always surprises in a Village week. This year, when we entered the Village, we found the whole area covered with flying ants. On the great log there were so many ants that you couldn’t see between them. Fortunately the huts were clear inside and the ants didn’t seem to like sitting on the roofs of the huts either. Strangely, there was no squealing from the students, just stunned silence. After the initial shock, there was disbelief, followed by lots of questions. Mell, one of our Bushcraft team members, talked to the students about the ants and told them a story, which spoke of their symbolism. Somehow, because the situation was so tense and the students so focused, it seemed to awaken an older part of their brains. They were now in a relationship with nature and the whole event was transformed.

After about two hours the ants flew off en masse and settled in the big sycamore tree beside the Bushcraft Workshop. This was nature at its most epic and the flight of the ants to be near Mell was the cause of much mirth. However, the strangest twist of all to this story was that, coincidentally, Mell had brought a large model of a flying ant with her. It is interesting that often the best learning moments in a Village are sometimes accompanied by a kind of quasi magical event. This is taking place in May, whereas ‘Flying Ant Day’ usually happens in July. In many Villages, the first morning, Monday, is a time for settling in, chatting in small groups, getting orientated, and only slowly moving to an activity. Mondays and Tuesdays are very much about students finding their feet, learning to live together, and adjusting to the tough regime of preparing food, cooking it, washing up and keeping things relatively clean. Then there are the responsibilities of governance and the inevitable issues about all the matters that need addressing: ‘Someone keeps stealing our charcoal.’ ‘The area around the taps is becoming muddy. How are we going to fix it?’ ‘Please take your shoes off when you come in our hut. People are bringing mud in.’ ‘Our neighbour’s hut is so noisy, we can’t sleep.’ 8

Usually this is when there are also one or two cases of homesickness and we try to get the students to help each other if possible, as they often do it best. We even train some students in counselling skills to help with this. I was very struck by a student once saying to the entire Village staff that a problem only became a crisis when a teacher got involved. It can be particularly difficult if the weather is wet and cold. Yet, whatever happens, these first two days are usually buoyant and full of energy, fun and laughter, even if there is occasional hardship and boredom. Some students rarely experience boredom in their lives and are not really that equipped to deal with it, but one thing we have learnt over the years is not to be afraid of boredom. It can often be the engine of creativity and self-learning. However, there is one thing common to all Villages – Wednesdays. Wednesdays are different. With remarkable consistency, Wednesday seems to be the day when the Village really comes together and becomes a community. Some years this is stronger than others but, at its best, Wednesday can be a revelation. It is the day when the machinery of the Village starts to run most smoothly. Everyone knows what they are doing, how they want to be, and how they want to use their time.

Today however is Tuesday. And this morning, little workshops with just a handful of students each are springing up all over the place. Down at the Forge, a team of three blacksmiths welcomes a group of Villagers, who have each chosen to make an axe. The process of making an axe is extraordinary to watch. Each billet of steel is taken from the forge, sparkling and white-hot. The billet is then placed on an anvil and three students stand round it with large two-handed hammers. When the signal is given, they start to pound the steel. Sparks fly in all directions, but they are protected by their blacksmith’s armour – leather aprons, face shields, and gloves. Everyone has to concentrate; the hammering is fast, one after another, pounding the steel until slowly it takes shape. This primal activity is elemental and deeply affecting, a rhythmic process of heating steel, waiting for it to turn the brightest red, and then shaping it. It is during the waiting period that so much talking happens. As in the Bushcraft Workshop, the blacksmiths are experts at providing the space where important conversations can take place in the most natural way.

Once the axe head is finished, the students go to the Woodcraft area to make an axe handle on the shaving horse or the pole lathe. Then they go up to the Bushcraft area to add bindings, burn on patterns and add various other decorative attachments. In this way, and without realizing it, the students enact one of the fundamental rhythms of a community – typical of life in a traditional village, where everyone had their skill and the specialists serviced the entire village. This aspect of life has become so complex and remote in modern society that it can be hard to appreciate. In our Village, the dynamic has been reduced to its most fundamental principles. It becomes visible and felt instinctively. Every day in the Village, the students experience this dynamic. These unknown moments of learning, as they are called, take place just below the surface and are certainly the province of the Village. Learning of this kind cannot be forced or contrived and is sometimes hard to measure. The best that can be done is to provide the conditions where such learning is more likely to happen. I remember some years ago a small group of students were sitting around a fire, not far from where I am standing. A French teacher sat down to join them and started chatting. They gave her tea and the conversation turned to the ins and outs of being a French student. Before long this teacher took out a book of French fairy tales and asked if they would like her to read it to them. They said yes and 11

so she did. Now, among the group sitting around the fire was Alex, a bit of a wild boy. Alex absolutely hated French; he really struggled with it. Then after a while something rather surprising happened. Alex asked if he could have a go, seemingly as a joke and perhaps to entertain his friends, but also I think because he was so relaxed that he didn’t mind if he messed up his reading. He just wanted to have a go and the teacher took it in that spirit. As Alex read, things started to get serious – and some years later, much to the surprise of everyone, he ended up doing GCSE and then A level French. Is this where it all started for Alex? Does he even know? After all, he was only twelve, but did this moment create a shift in him that set in motion a chain of events that ended up with A level French; and, going forward for him, who knows what else? When choosing activities and workshops for the Village, we try to provide a balanced offering, covering a broad range of subjects and activities. Always the guiding principle is to offer things that are harder to provide in the classroom. In the context of the Village, it is a matter of the environment, or the time available to work on a project, or simply that it has been chosen by the student. Any or all of these elements can transform an activity. This year, the Village has an artist in residence, a sculptor, who has come into the Village for the week. A group of students has come to take part in this very exciting development and they 12

are starting to make a large sculpture from scrap material. The object of this activity is to produce a piece of work over the week that somehow resonates with Village life, so no doubt some kind of reference to flying ants will feature. As I stand near the sculptors, I see Ben, our visiting storyteller, working his way through the Village. Good storytellers are rare. The reason Ben is so good is that he doesn’t just tell stories, he inhabits them. It helps that he is an actor. First he wanders around the Village, which is what he is doing now, to see what is going on. Then, when the time is right, he sits with a small group who are doing nothing in particular and asks if any of them have a story to tell. After they tell their story, he tells one in return. This clearly has an impact because now they all want to tell one, inspired by his performance (a reaction he gets over and over again). Slowly, little by little and under his tutelage, their telling improves. These are wonderful moments, which I know will continue after he leaves.

Moving on, I walk past the Woodcraft area, where, unlike the Bushcraft Workshop, the focus is on specific rural crafts and primitive technologies. Spoons, bowls and other small objects are made in this woodcraft area. It is also here that students come if they want to make something larger or more unusual – rustic furniture, for example, which involves learning how to split a large log into planks using a sledgehammer and wedges. Right now they are making three legged stools, turning the legs on a traditional pole lathe, an ancient machine powered by a springy branch. I discovered this wonderful machine nearly fifty years ago and have always felt that, because of its immediacy and potential, it has much to offer in helping students understand the fundamentals of a material like wood and the foundations of mechanization. Alongside the pole lathe is the accompanying, and fearsome, shaving horse. Wood is split from a large log and then roughly shaped with a small axe. The billet of wood is then held in place on the shaving horse and shaped with a long, two-handed razorsharp knife called a drawknife, which is pulled towards you in long strokes. In the Village students learn how to master dangerous things and not be frightened of them. I walk on up the Village and come across a group of students in animated discussion. The great log appears to be in the wrong place. The plan is to make it the base for one end of the slack line (a tight rope made from a cargo strap), which has to be winched very tight. The problem is that the log, which is enormous, needs to be moved about seven or eight metres. So the first task is to weigh it. A bunch of about nine girls are involved in this project and 13

with the help of Jeff, the maths teacher, they calculate its volume. They then borrow a laptop to discover the weight of a cubic metre of wet or green oak (newly felled oak) and discover that the whole log weighs about a ton. This, by the way, is the only way in which we use electronic devices; they are brought in for specific tasks. Now a bit of Physics is needed: it is all about inertia and friction, and how these can be overcome. With a collection of round wooden fence posts and with the aid of a long, very heavy scaffold pole, the girls manage to lever the log onto the posts, which can then be used as rollers. This isn’t enough however, as the rollers get stuck in the earth. So, with the aid of some makeshift rails for the rollers to run on, and using a carefully positioned lever and a lot of pushing and grunting, the girls and one or two boys are able to move this one-ton log the seven metres needed. It is hard to convey the satisfaction that comes from tasks like these. Physics seems to crop up at odd times in the Village. Another good example is erecting the big top that covers the amphitheatre. In an outdoor project like the Village, it is essential that there are enough covered areas on the site to provide shelter from the rain and sun. Our main cover is in the amphitheatre, and consists of a large, white, fire-retardant tarpaulin measuring 9 by 13 metres. Needless to say, such a big tarp is really heavy. Over the years we 15

have tried all kinds of designs and ways of erecting it, but the system that works best consists of using a long rope suspended between two trees on either side of the amphitheatre. The tarpaulin lies across the rope, which acts like a giant washing line, and is then hauled high in the air. The edges of the tarpaulin are then stretched out with ropes to make a tentlike structure. The problem we encountered was that the tarp was so heavy that the single pulley we had planned to use to lift it could not even get it off the ground. It required an enormous force – we needed something that would give us a mechanical advantage, as they say in physics. We ended up using the kind of rope used on very large sailing boats that can withstand several tons without stretching, and a series of pulleys. The students were amazed by the weight that could be lifted by this system and the ease with which they could raise the big top and the tension we were able to get on the ‘washing line’. Once the girls have managed to move the big log to the right position, Ali, the outdoor activities teacher, sets up the slack line between this log and a nearby tree, cranking the thick cargo strap extremely tight and about knee height from the ground. With Ali sitting on one end of the slack line, students start queuing up to try their skill at tightrope walking. It is one of those compelling activities that some students spend ages trying to master, while for others it provides a good interlude. Another interesting aspect of activities like this, which elicit 16

squeals, laughter, and are generally a lot of fun, is that they can help to quell any twinges of homesickness a student might feel but not want to talk about. For that reason alone, I think it is important to have at least one such activity always available throughout the week. After trying my luck a few times on the slack line, and surviving, I move on again up the Village, only to be confronted by another strange sight. Two students are standing in a large plastic tub, jeans rolled up above the knee, treading in what looks like a bath of mud. Even though this ritual happens every year, for some reason it always surprises me and makes me laugh. These students are part of the pizza oven-making team. What they are treading in is a type of cat litter mixed with water. Basically it is clay, which gets spread over a tin sheet, curved into a tunnel to make the oven. Pizza making is always a very popular daily activity, and the oven is surrounded by its own little kitchen at the centre of the Village, to one side of the amphitheatre. It is quite simple, a couple of makeshift benches and a tarpaulin above in case of rain.

At eleven o’clock, it is time for a break and orange juice and biscuits have been laid out for the students on tables in the middle of the amphitheatre. It is quite good at certain times of the day to give the students some space, and this morning I think I’m going back down to the Forge for a cup of tea. After the break most of the workshops continue, although with fewer people since about twenty or more students have joined the drumming workshop, a very popular activity that takes place twice in the week so that all who want to can take part. Drumming is an off-site activity and takes place in the Drama Studio. Many of the other small workshops continue as well. For example, the journalists, who produce the Village paper, have been going around all morning looking for a good story and perhaps a scandal or two… Are the daily leadership elections fixed? Who stole the charcoal from hut 10? Is there a phone in the Village? This is one of those projects we hope will develop over the years. Some of the workshops are student-led, such as the paint-making workshop. This involves looking for some of the natural pigments that William Blake, who lived nearby for a time, might have used to make his paint. A set of new empty paint tubes, with their ends open and not yet crimped shut, are being filled with this new paint and it is extraordinary to see the beautiful colours they have been able to make. This workshop took weeks to prepare and 17

is a good example of the way learning takes place, in small pockets, in the weeks before the Village when students and staff collaborate, learning together as they go. The importance of preparation before the Village week itself cannot be emphasized enough. Each Village may be a reflection of the quality of that preparation. Another exciting, small project taking place this morning is led by the science department. It involves making copper from ore. They have made their smelting pit and seem to have had some success already, but there is a lot more work to be done. This is another student/ teacher project involving research, experimentation and testing. The aim is to produce enough copper so that small pieces of jewellery can be made in the forge. We have had a number of fire projects over the years, starting in 1990 with a very young and unknown Ray Mears showing us how to make fire by rubbing two pieces of wood together, right through to the Art department setting up a Raku kiln in the Village. They used clay dug from the site, which was then made into pots by the students and fired in the kiln. This was a highly dramatic process, with lots of fire, sparks and glowing hot pots. In Raku pottery, pots are removed from the kiln when glowing red and plunged into a bucket of saw dust to create wonderful effects. This kind of project cannot easily take place in the classroom and is perfect for the Village.

It is 1 pm. The drummers are just coming back and the Village is filling up, which is always a great feeling because, strangely, even though the Village site is quite small, it never feels full or confining. Sometimes, even though there are 50 students on site, it can feel empty. ‘Where are they all?’ we say. Well, they are either in the Forge, the Woodcraft area, the Bushcraft Workshop, or in one of the many small workshops and activities tucked away behind bushes, under tarpaulins, beside fires, or even in their huts. The clanger rings for lunch. The staff and a few students have already arranged tables in the amphitheatre, which are covered with different salads and a range of meats, bread, cheese, crisps, and fruit. Lunch is always a very simple affair, no cooking and no washing up, just paper plates. The students serve themselves and eat sitting around in the amphitheatre. This lunchtime, though, is special: the head of music has brought his jazz band in to play for us while we eat, something that has never happened before. They set up in the centre of the amphitheatre and start to play. While we eat our lunch, the music fills the space and just for a moment, we could be anywhere. 20

By 2 pm, lunch has been cleared away – an activity involving everyone – and now that the space is clear, it is time for the afternoon meeting, another compulsory activity. The students gather for what is part of a new initiative: students running the meeting on their own, with no teachers present. A member of staff hands over the running of the meeting to the elected leaders of the day and all of us teachers leave the amphitheatre. We go down to the Forge and wait, keeping a discreet watch from a distance. It is early days, and the students are not used to the process yet, but the meeting seems to work quite well. There are a few minor issues, but the students manage to contain them. After the meeting we are told how it all went, as we were too far away to hear what was being said. First, one of the leaders reminded everyone about the afternoon activities. She also explained that Ben would be telling his big story in the evening. Most of the students had either met Ben or shared stories with him, so expectations were high. The rest of the meeting was about specific problems. One of the huts complained that people were taking short cuts to one of the Village taps through their kitchen and making a real mess. After a bit of chat it was agreed that everyone should respect their kitchen and go around. Another issue was about bedtimes. There was a complaint about the rule that all students had to be in their own huts at 10 pm with lights out at 10.30 pm. This was felt to be unreasonable, 21

although expressed with a bit more passion. The rule was there because of concern for our neighbours and noise at night. The students agreed that a delegation should talk to the teachers with a request that bedtime should move to 11 pm, with lights out at 11.30 pm. This negotiation now takes place. After much discussion, with conditions laid down, a compromise time is agreed of 10.30 pm with lights out at 11 pm. When students make a good case and succeed in persuading staff, the political process is perceived as having value and is kept vibrant and relevant. Like any voter, students must experience a genuine win through the democratic process or they will quickly lose interest. This is an insight from student councils up and down the country. The difference in the Village is that we have the opportunity to go a bit deeper and, with luck, experience something of the visceral struggle of the democratic process. The staff must have the skill to manage the process and any student victory. For the students the prospect of being able to create change can transform their relationship with the Village and their voice in it. When it matters they become engaged, hone their arguments, develop their negotiation skills, and understand and accept compromise.

It is important to emphasise here that the success of these student-led meetings rests on the whole idea of trust. First, the trust the Village staff have in the students to run a Village meeting on their own. Trusting the students to take the reins, within their abilities, cannot be a halfhearted enterprise on the part of the staff. There has to be a strong, collective commitment and conviction to student autonomy, agency and responsibility for the way they use their time. Students, for their part, must really feel that they have been given independence; that this independence is real; and that whatever happens in certain situations is down to them. In other words, they must feel trusted, and they of course, in return, must trust the staff.

The afternoon is starting smoothly, which is usually the case. The play of hammers on anvils is sounding out from the forge, and up in the bushcraft site the fire springs back to life. The workshops are going to last until about 4 pm and the rhythm now seems much the same as the morning, but with new workshops added. In the amphitheatre a ukulele band of about eight students is starting up, led by the head of PE. In another part of the amphitheatre, a small group is making paracord bracelets while the Village journalists hover nearby, continuing their search for a good story for the scurrilous Village paper. At the bottom of the amphitheatre, near the fire, a group has gathered to play chess. Judging by the laughter and squeals behind me the slack line is still in operation. It is always a good idea in the Village to have a mix of sedentary and high-energy workshops and activities. Normally if we have a day of fine weather we have a water-slide afternoon after the rest of the school has gone home. A long piece of plastic is secured over some gym crash mats, covered with soap and hosed down with water. The whole Village then turns up wearing suitable kit for getting very wet and everyone take turns to run and dive on the slide. There are always some who are a bit tentative, a bit unsure of themselves, and of whether they can join in with such abandon, running and diving onto the slide. They nearly always clearly want to have a go, but somehow cannot quite bring themselves to do it. It is at these moments that the Village really comes into its own. With shouts of encouragement and perhaps a friend taking their hand, they eventually take the dive, and the cheers go up. Having these moments of pure joy and satisfaction during the week are so important; they not only stand on their own as whole community events, but also add a balancing ingredient to an already rich experience. The mood afterwards always seems to be one of calmness and an almost palpable contentment. It was this event that reminded us of the importance of joy in the Village, especially when it arrives unbidden and out of the blue. 23

Four o’clock, and time for the activities to end. Some linger on, especially in the Forge and the Woodcraft area. Between 4 pm and 4.30 pm, it is journal time, another of our compulsory activities. Students write down the activities they have taken part in and a little bit about their thoughts on the day and what they have learnt. Although we try to keep this activity as simple as possible, I am not sure we have got this one quite right: it does not work for everyone and the results are always a bit mixed. I have noticed that some find it really difficult to suddenly start writing when deeply immersed in an experiential project of this nature. They can do it afterwards but it is not that easy at the time. Once they have completed their journal entries, it is now unstructured time and there are no activities on offer. Some gather in huts and just sit and chat, others are outside lighting their fires to make a cup of tea. However, there is something else going on because this is also the time for the Village council or Witan as we have come to call it, named after the first (Norse) parliament. The Witan is a place where students have a chance to experience what it feels like to represent the views of others, ensuring that the quiet voices get heard as well, arguing a case, or proposing an idea on behalf of their hut.

Forms of governance have evolved over the years. Originally, two leaders were chosen for the whole week, one boy and one girl, but this changed after demand for more representation. It was also recognized that these leaders were in danger of becoming surrogate teachers. Leaders now have to be chosen by the students. This year they decided on a chance process, with the names selected from a hat. Taking on a leadership role is of course quite a daunting prospect for some and this is where support from teachers is so important – a little coaching can go a long way. Emma, the history teacher, is with them to facilitate the process. Slowly, each hut sends their representative for the day down to the patch of grass under the plane tree, just outside the Village. Twelve students sit on the grass in a circle. Emma sits with them at first and will eventually step out of the group after initiating their first task − selecting two representatives from among the twelve members of the Witan to speak to the whole Village in the morning. The pair’s first job is to facilitate the Witan and work out how, in the morning, they will represent the views of the Witan to the whole Village. Many issues are discussed and one, in particular, takes hold this time. It concerns the ban on football during Village week. The reason for this rule (football has the tendency to become compulsive, even divisive and exclusive) had been explained and seemed to be understood, if not accepted. Or so we thought. Obviously, experiencing the rule in practice was another thing. The discussion is passionate. As so often happens when a subject is particularly sensitive, those 26

who are not keen on football find it hard to express their opinions for fear of falling out with the footballers. It is times like these – fortunately quite rare – that the complex web of relationships among the students can inhibit their freedom of speech. The Witan only lasts for about half an hour, as does the journal writing session. It is now 4.30pm and time for the next compulsory activity of the afternoon. This is the time for wide games and the whole Village sets off to the Heath. Wide games are those mass chasing, capture or hiding games like Capture the Flag, Kick the Can or Sardines. They may be compulsory, but they are enormously popular. The aim is to get all the students to run as much as possible and get as tired as possible so that they will sleep at night… and thus we will too. When we have not included this activity, or not done it well enough, we have ended up paying for it, so it has become one of our non-negotiables. As with all Village activities we are always on the lookout for significant moments of learning. I remember one in particular during these wide games. A girl talked to us about a revelation she had when playing. This girl hated competitive sport for various reasons and this led to some of her feelings of isolation. However, even though the wide game was competitive, she was shocked to discover that she could take part: she could play the game. For her, there was no sense of losing or exposure. Instead she discovered a freedom and an excitement in the game as 27

she ran across the field with fifty other students. She felt part of the whole community at play. It didn’t matter if she got caught; lots of people got caught. But she was also able to sneak in unnoticed and release people. It is 6 pm. Time to come back from the Heath. The hot, panting, and hopefully exhausted, students wend their way back to the Village to start cooking the evening meal. All over the Village the sound of snapping twigs and the splitting of kindling can be heard as the evening fires are lit. Some fires, of course, stubbornly refuse to light and those who are good at lighting fires help the ones who have not yet mastered the skill. The Village staff wander around the Village, checking on things like food hygiene and helping out with any cooking problems encountered. The first day or two can be a bit challenging for some, with fires not getting hot enough, water not boiling and pasta still a bit crunchy. It can be hard, but usually it is no more than a couple of huts; some have to rely on bread and jam. We keep a very close eye on any huts that are really struggling, but the discomfort seems to provide a spur for some very rapid and focused learning. Slowly, one after another, the hut groups settle down to their supper. A kind of peace descends on the whole Village. Even the strugglers manage to conjure up something. Meals vary enormously, from sausages and chips to complex recipes, usually involving some form of pasta. Over the years the general standard of cooking has been improving noticeably. 28

In the amphitheatre, a large fire has been lit for the evening and its first job is to cook the evening meal for all the Village staff, two of whom are standing over a couple of large bubbling pots and a sizzling frying pan. The staff meals are often elaborate affairs and always much enjoyed. Once the students have settled down to their supper, it is time for the staff to have theirs. As we do, new staff turn up to join us, some to say hello and some to stay the night to bolster the night watch. It is always good to see the teachers who want to come and join us for the night. Invariably they say how much it gives them, although moving from a campfire breakfast the next morning to the first lesson can be a bit of a culture shock.

It is now almost 8 pm. The washing up has been done, as has some tidying of the hut surrounds, and the students are being called to the amphitheatre for Ben’s evening story. Ben has been absent from the Village all afternoon to prepare for his evening performance. Another log is put on the big fire, the string of lights hanging in the trees is switched on and the students arrange their cushions and blankets on the brick amphitheatre seats and get comfortable. There is silence, and Ben moves out of the shadows into the flickering firelight at the centre of the stage. There is a pause as he looks around, and then he begins his story. He is not telling just any story, but one chosen for this Village, at this particular time. He is not telling a story about the Village, nor is he weaving in incidents from his day in the Village. Instead he makes reference to images and incidents, where he can, in the same way that a dream can make use of imagery and incidents witnessed in the day. The story starts benignly enough and seems to promise light and good humour, but before too long it takes a strange and unexpected direction. Everyone is transfixed as it descends into darker twists and turns. One minute it is slightly disturbing, the next terrifying. After about an hour of one adventure after another the tale eventually emerges back into the sunlight of a satisfying ending – a truly cathartic experience, full of its own lessons, which of course should never be explained. What can be said though is that a good story stays with you and Ben’s stories certainly stay with you. Everyone is a bit quiet now. While the story was being told, a large pan of milk was heating on the fire, together with a smaller pan with an alternative for the growing number of vegans. The milk is ready and it is time for the evening hot chocolate. This is a great time of day and we all sit closer to the fire in the amphitheatre drinking our hot chocolate. Some are chatting about the story they’ve just heard and some are just chatting. 29

Before long it is bedtime. It is getting a bit cold and a number of students are queuing up to have their hot-water bottles filled. They crowd into each other’s huts, sometimes as many as ten or even more. The huts are designed for this and, for safety reasons, they have a door at each end. This is a very important time for the Village: a time in which the students sit together in such an intimate space, lit by fairy lights, and just talk and laugh together. Just before 11 pm, they all go to their own huts… without fuss. That’s all part of the deal and, at the new, hard-won time of 11 pm, it is lights out. The Village is silent. We always say, if we have done our job well and got them tired enough, they will just fall into sleep. With a few exceptions, that is exactly what happens now. It never used to be like this but we have learnt a lot over the years. This is a great time for the Village staff as well, with our ranks swollen by teachers who have volunteered to join us and stay the night. I always enjoy our late-night evenings around the fire. Most of us stay up for another hour to make sure everyone is asleep and then it is bed for us too. At least that is how it is on a good night, and these days that can be most of the time. There can always be an incident of course: a spider spotted lurking in one of the huts, which for some can be very challenging and always 31

needs careful handling. Homesickness can hit late at night and usually that is helped by letting the student sit with us round the fire for a while. Once or twice, a student has to go home for the night; but they are always back for breakfast on the next morning. It has been quiet for long enough and so it is time for our bed, a moment I find bliss. This is a long day for staff and so we always take care to look after each other, making sure everyone takes time off during the day. The Village is tiring. It is also very invigorating and profoundly satisfying for the staff and that is why so many of the team take part year after year. For some it is the most meaningful thing they do. The huts are now silent. The staff are in their tents. The main fire quietly and safely smoulders out. It has been a good day.

Theoretical Background Carl Rogers / Jean Lave & Etienne Wenger We like to think of the Village as a laboratory of learning where ideas can be tried out. From the very first Village in 1990, we have always had a strong theoretical underpinning for what we do. Initially it came from the work of Carl Rogers and what he called the Person-Centred Approach. Since then other complimentary theories have become important, in particular that of Jean Lave and Etienne Wenger and their theory of Situated Learning. Hand in hand with this theoretical underpinning, we conduct a regular programme of independent research with visiting academics and educationalists. We find this enormously helpful in assessing what we are doing and how we can develop the Village. The following are brief outlines of both the Person-Centred Approach and Situated Learning:

Person-Centred Approach The work of Carl Rogers has been the most important source of the ideas for the Village. Rogers proposed that both in psychotherapy and education the quality of the relationship between psychotherapist and client, or teacher and student, is of greatest importance. This relationship can release healing in a client or enhance the way a student relates to what they are learning. He believed that there were three essential ‘core conditions’, which, if present in the practitioner and at the centre of the relationship, would help to open up the actualising process, which for us in the Village is not just a personal but also a social process, and allow it to flow.

These conditions are Congruence, Unconditional Positive Regard, and Empathy. If you can be authentic, communicate not just respect but a profound regard for the person you are working with, and listen to them deeply, then it can have a significant impact on that person’s learning. The clearer we are, the more we know ourselves and the more transparent we are in these learning relationships, the more useful and facilitative our presence will be.

Congruence – this refers to a person’s genuineness: that how a person acts and talks and generally expresses themselves is completely authentic. But, importantly, expressions by the practitioner must be highly sensitive and moderated by the other core conditions − no blurting out of the first thing on your mind. What is said, even if at times quite direct, must always be appropriate for a given situation. However, the practitioner is not trying to be something they are not; what they say and express is what they actually feel and believe at their core – there is no mask or front. Generally speaking, when a teacher is perceived as authentic and honest about themselves, and straight in their dealings with students, students are more likely to feel safe with them and more trusting – and, it could be argued, become more trustworthy themselves. Unconditional Positive Regard – unconditional positive regard involves valuing a person in a general way in all that they are fundamentally. It does not mean accepting a person’s difficult behaviour or not challenging them in a congruent way. It does mean choosing to have a deeper understanding of the student and consciously valuing that which is in them. It is always a source of surprise that, when this attitude can be cultivated for a particularly demanding student, and even though nothing is said to communicate this, a very marked change often takes place. Perhaps more is invisibly communicated in these situations than the teacher realises. Empathy – in psychotherapy this means entering deeply into another person’s world and seeing it from their frame of reference; listening to how things feel for them and what things mean; and communicating that understanding in the simplest and most direct way. In education, care is taken to listen to feelings in a non-therapeutic way. Emphasis therefore tends to be more on meanings; listening to how students are experiencing their learning; what it means to them personally and what it is opening up for them. Clearly, the Village is a learning community, not a therapeutic one. The staff are not there as counsellors, but they are informed by person-centred skills. Rogers called this an ‘application of the Person-Centred Approach’ and he always emphasised, especially when he worked in educational settings and training groups, that one of the most powerful ways for conveying this approach and these attitudes is through role modelling. In the Village setting, students can learn about this subtle approach by watching the staff and experiencing how they interact with people, how they listen, how they respond, how they maintain boundaries. and how they facilitate learning. 34

Theoretical Background Carl Rogers / Jean Lave & Etienne Wenger Situated Learning The term ‘Situated Learning’ was first coined by Jean Lave, a social anthropologist, and Etienne Wenger, an educational theorist. Situated learning is more than learning by doing or experiential learning. ‘Situated’ refers to people being full participants in the world, thus generating meaning in what they do. It is not abstract activity. The emphasis is on learning to understand knowledge and learning in context. Not all learning has to be like this. When it comes to factual information, traditional methods have their place. However, in general, Lave and Wegner try to place learning within social relationships, or as they put it, ‘situations of co-participation’, rather than seeing it as the acquisition of abstract knowledge

Communities of Practice Lave and Wenger see the kind of learning that normally takes place in schools (with many exceptions) as solitary acquisition of abstract knowledge, somehow disassociated from real life situations and demands. They found that a more complete form of learning depends on a particular type of social interaction – taking place between people, in a particular kind of group called a ‘community of practice’. A community of practice is a group of people, wellestablished or spontaneous, ‘who share a concern or a passion for something they do, and learn how to do it better as they interact regularly’. Within these groups, learning is often incidental and not the result of an agenda.

Legitimate Peripheral Participation The next part of the theory looks at how a newcomer or beginner learns to become good at what the group is set up to do. A community of practice is made up of experts and beginners, or apprentices. An apprentice is anyone who is learning on the job, engaged in what Lave and Wenger call ‘legitimate peripheral participation’: new apprentices join a community of practice as raw beginners, perhaps with a grounding in the basic knowledge needed; they eventually want to be as good as the experts in that community; they want to be like them, but at this point are on the periphery. The focus is on how they make that change and how they move towards the centre.

Unplanned Moments of Learning What Lave discovered was that, although there might be some sense of ordered progression during an apprenticeship, much of the important learning is quite random and unplanned, arising in the moment as the experts work. The main point here is how these moments are used by the apprentices as they watch the skills being demonstrated.

In addition, an apprentice is somehow held within a community of practice. Learning of core knowledge takes place through social interaction – how experts and apprentices talk to each other, work together, share knowledge, their stories and the history of their community of practice. Although the apprentice may be given progressively more complex tasks as part of the apprenticeship (Lave points out that the apprentice tailors they studied might start by sewing on buttons, move on to cuffs, then sleeves and so on), the important part of their learning in this community of practice comes from the social interactions within that community. Over time, apprentices gradually move from the edge of that community to the centre, becoming full members of that community… they become tailors.

Wegner points out that we might be members of a number of communities of practice, such as choirs, football teams or drama groups. We may start by learning at the periphery, then as we become more competent and more involved in the processes of a particular community, we move from legitimate peripheral participation to full participation. Importantly, most of the learning discussed here is conveyed through role modelling by those perceived as the experts, just as it is with the Person-Centred Approach (though Rogers would not have used the word ‘expert’).

Stephen de Brett Stephen de Brett joined The King Alfred School as Head of Design Technology in 1989 and a few years later was also appointed Head of Personal Social and Health Education (PSHE). He started the Village Project in 1989 and in 1990 oversaw the very first Village. In 2000, he was part of the team that developed the KAS boat project, building and sailing expedition boats and developing expeditionary learning (“A Village on the Water”). In 2013, he was encouraged to revive the Village project with a new team of dedicated teachers. He is now semi-retired from teaching and is acting as an ad hoc consultant for the school, as well as for the current Village Project, which takes place every year as part of the school curriculum.

Edited by Kara Conti and Peter Palliser Designed by Thea Stallwood Photographs by Emma Ziff and members of the Village Team Drawings by Nic Bevers Published courtesy of The King Alfred School Society © September 2021

The King Alfred School, 149 North End Road London NW11 7HY www.kingalfred.org.uk