I sat down in a circle of about 20 students, sprawled over couches and chairs in a corner of the small dining hall. It was autumn in the mountains, and a small kerosene heater was going full blast next to us, lending a cozy atmosphere. The students, all 7th and 8th graders, were not sure exactly what they were doing here. It was our first Town Meeting. What on earth is a Town Meeting?
Fast forward half an hour, and something had changed. In short order students had created an agenda of about a dozen changes they wanted to make to their school. Some were minor, like a request to have more fruits available for snacks. Others were major, like changing our school schedule. With a bit of hesitation but no shortage of ideas and energy, students began to get into the messy process of making decisions as a group. How do we prioritize? Will you accept an amendment? When does majority vote rule?
When the dust settled another hour later, we had made four decisions of minor to moderate significance. But something was begun there that might be much more important. Maybe even one of the most valuable things a school (or family) could teach. We were learning how to make fair decisions together.
There’s a backstory here. My own traditional schooling taught me to be an analytical, individualistic decision maker. Consider my options, optimize based on one or two factors, and choose the winner. It’s a useful skill and it served me well, right up until I found myself managing people for the first time as an adult. Then it hit me: I don’t really know how to make decisions together. Did I miss that day in school?
I don’t think I did — because I don’t think it was taught, and certainly it was not practiced. What decisions was I allowed to make in middle or high school? Maybe what club or sport to sign up for, or how hard to push myself down the prescribed academic path someone had laid out. I could vote for student president as a kind of popularity contest. But I never had the chance to participate in a meaningful decision about the school where I spent most of my waking hours. It was not a democracy in any case. And so learning how to make decisions in a group went on that long list of essential life skills that we hope kids will somehow learn elsewhere.
I still remember the feeling of shock I had when I later realized that, while my experience was very much a normal one, it was not the only way schools operated. As I was finishing college I learned about examples of schools — like those in the Israeli democratic school movement — where students had almost unimaginable decision-making power. These schools saw decision-making as one of the primary things they taught.
Students were not being shuffled through the system—they were learning to design the system.
I was so inspired that I spent 5 weeks traveling through Israel visiting these schools, vibrantly democratic places if ever I saw them. Congresses of the whole community — in which students outnumbered any other group — could decide anything and everything, from how to spend the school budget, what classes to teach, to which teachers to hire or fire. And it was no Lord of the Flies, far from it. These were places of remarkable student engagement and participation. Students were not being shuffled through the system—they were learning to design the system.
Since then, I’ve seen many stripes of democratic schools, and merely having a democratic process does not make a school a great place. But I saw something in Israel that I could not forget: students can be trusted to make important decisions about their school. And when they make these decisions, they learn how to be citizens in a democracy in a way that no civics class could ever teach. They learn it by doing.
Imagine if a high school graduate had deep personal experience with a range of decision methods: consensus when it was called for, majority democracy, and more. Imagine if they had experienced voting — when the outcome really mattered to them — as well as proposing their own ideas, receiving amendments, and having to argue respectfully against other proposals?
This kind of person is not just a better citizen — they’re also a better leader in the world of work. They’re prepared to lead a team or be a helpful participant in one, even a useful critic when called for. They’ll know how to organize people into action, whether that’s to start their own company or push back against an injustice in the world.
So: just how do schools or families offer this learning? Here are a few suggestions.
First, for families: can you expand the set of decisions your child is allowed to make? Keep in mind the anchoring effect (described in this post), a cognitive bias that leads us to underestimate our children because we’re “anchored on” how they were in the past. If we know that we’re likely underestimating them, we can correct that by giving our kids slightly more responsibility than we think they’re ready for. What decisions might they be able to make? Keep in mind that no one wields power perfectly from the start; they need time to make mistakes or to be slow or confused without us jumping in. Remember that for most of human history, adolescents at the age of today’s middle schoolers held adult-like responsibilities, working hard to take care of their communities. If we deprive them of meaningful decisions to make, we slow their growth.
Then, for schools: here are three decision-making methods you can offer students. These formed the basis for the Town Meeting described earlier, as we decided that our first task with any proposal was to figure out which decision-making process was best suited for it. Here goes:
Advice Process. Let’s say a student has a relatively simple proposal, one that doesn’t require money or anyone to make major changes. They’d like to start a business and sell brownies, or begin a new club, or select a capstone project. Instead of complicated approvals, a surprising amount can be done with what’s called simply the Advice Process (as described in Frederic Laloux’s wonderful book). The student with an idea first identifies everyone who would be affected by it, then asks their advice, listens carefully, and makes a decision. Among other things, it offers students a chance to learn the art of giving and receiving honest feedback.
Majority Vote. For proposals that are more complex, perhaps requiring changes to how others spend time, or requiring money, then we can use a democratic voting process. Essential details like what constitutes a quorum, and what checks exist on majority action — like a waiting period, or the chance to switch to a consensus process for certain key decisions – have to be in place for this process to be fair. When they are, students can begin exercising votes on a perhaps surprising number of decisions. What if they were part of the hiring committee for new faculty? Or part of the budget committee? The more seriously they are taken, the more seriously they will act.
Consensus. Let’s say a student proposes something that touches on the core values of the school. Maybe they’re raising an injustice that must be corrected, or want to change something that will affect the school’s core functions, like the schedule of the day or the types of classes offered. In these cases, we can teach students how to use the most intensive form of deliberation: the consensus process. Consensus is not the same as unanimous agreement. Consensus can be achieved if all members present either agree or choose to ‘stand aside,’ meaning that they do not agree but do not feel obliged to stop a proposal.
Can you imagine if you had left school savvy to all these processes?
There’s no doubt in my mind that adolescents are capable of mastering each of these three methods.
What if they graduated knowing how to participate in group decisions with deep listening and a willingness to compromise, because they knew their voices were taken seriously. (Hint: if a decision process devolves into complaining, then the people involved don’t really believe that they have power). What if students graduated with the skills to not just optimize their own decisions, but to facilitate those of groups they’re part of, whether that’s choosing a restaurant to go to with friends, or leading a team at work, or organizing a protest?
All it takes is practice.
Book Update
It’s been nearly 4 months since Finding the Magic in Middle School launched, and I still can’t believe it’s getting out there so well! I keep hearing from new friends who have come across it, and have been regularly speaking at schools, book clubs and gatherings. I’m also sharing excerpts and extensions from the book on instagram.
Meanwhile, I’m thrilled to announce that the audiobook version is now available! It was a comically long and convoluted process to make it—prime example of how I always underestimate how long things take—but I’m so glad it’s now out there. Thank you again for all the support to share these ideas!
I like the simple breaking of the decision process in to three major types. Easy to grasp and to put into practice. While I don’t believe middle school age children have the brain development and richness of life experience to make some of the major life decisions that may arise, I definitely believe they are far, far underrated in their ability to step up and take on large responsibilities and decisions. And that must be a part of their educational process. When else will they learn this? Excellent discussion!
Clearly laid out analysis of the different levels of student involvement. When a student at the Royal College of Music I became the student president and was tasked by the Director to participate in trustee-level decision making - an extraordinary act of trust on his part. I and my student council found ourselves in new, deep, daunting and empowering waters. While busy practicing piano to become a working musician, this experience was life-centering beyond all expecting.