Jenn Ashworth in the Guardian: the reasonableness of school refusal

 I tend to think of disengagement from school as a passive thing – that is, a lack of interest in one’s classes. But Jenn Ashworth’s piece in last Saturday’s Guardian, Why I Refused to Go to School, offers a reminder that for many students, disengagement means an active aversion to school, not just a lack of enthusiasm for it.

When she was 13 years old, Ashworth refused to go to school:

I stayed in bed and refused to get dressed. I ran out of the house in the morning and didn't come back until the bus had gone. I faked migraines, stomach bugs, phantom aches and pains. I cried and threw epic tantrums that lasted for hours. I'd threaten to kill myself and refuse to eat for days.

However, though Ashworth was (to put it mildly) disengaged from school, she was deeply engaged in her own learning – and, as paradoxical as this might seem, a conscientious student:

Us school refusers are normally academically bright or, if not bright, at least willing. That was me. When school, convinced that I was ill in mind if not in body, sent work for me to do at home, I'd sit up in my bedroom and complete it, arranging my books inside a bag that never left the house. When I did go outside (which was rare), I'd haunt the library.

At the time, she was unable to explain why she didn’t want to go to school, she just knew she was desperate not to. Looking back on it, however, she doesn’t think her position was unreasonable. As she observes,

There are plenty of adults (most, perhaps) who would not choose to spend their days locked into a series of rooms with 30 people dressed just like them; to be startled by a bell every 35 minutes; to queue for 40 minutes of a 50-minute lunch break in order to eat; to stand outside in the cold for 15 minutes twice a day; to be told to "shoo" when standing in the wrong place; to be forced to sit on a sports hall floor in rows and be lectured at for 20 minutes twice a week; and, most of all, to be bored, bored, bored out of your mind – bored to the point of depression, to the point of rage.

This strikes me as a fair point – and was out of a desire to create a different, more engaging kind of school that we developed the Learning Futures programme – which focuses on approaches to learning that foster engagement. The characteristics of this learning are not particularly surprising, in light of Ashworth's article:

• It takes place in extended, multidisciplinary projects allow students to take time over their work, until they have created something they can take pride in, and show to an audience that goes beyond the school.
• It is as likely to take place in the outside world as it is to take place within school
• It helps students to develop ‘learning relationships’ with a range of adults, as well as with their peers  - not just with their teachers, who always have 29 other students vying for their attention.
• It gives students choice in what they learn, and how they learn it – in fact, it goes beyond that, and gives students a stake in how the school is run, so that teachers and students become partners in learning, rather than providers and consumers, respectively.

Ashworth concludes her piece by talking about  a different sort of school:

I told [my mother] I wanted to set up a school that was more of a museum or a library where the children were set free, and she told me why not, why shouldn't I, what was stopping me?

I hope she’s serious about this – the world needs more schools like what she’s describing.

The good news is, some schools like this already exist. You can read about some of them in our publication, 10 Schools for the 21^st Century – and you can read about what makes schools like this work in its companion publication, 10 Ways to 21^st Century Education.