This past September, I opened a nonprofit democratic school: South Jersey Sudbury School. Our students — ranging in age from four to 19 — are allowed total control of their education, and all school decisions are voted and decided on during our School Meeting. Establishing this school has been my life’s greatest challenge and an absolute thrill.
One of the most significant parts of my job is engaging parents in a dialogue about education, child development, and the philosophy of what “success” means in the context of parenting and schooling. These discussions (sometimes debates) with parents are essential to the school and to society as a whole — it’s from these discussions that we learn from one another and share our experiences as humans trying to make sense of our world. Parents share their experiences of their children, including their goals and expectations for them. I share my experiences as a teacher and avid consumer of scientific research.
We all share our perspectives as adults who have all, regardless of the decade or more age gap between us , lived through childhood and spent years in the traditional school system.
TTo my surprise, the greatest trepidation parents have with giving their children radical control of their own education is a phobia of technology. Specifically video games. Many parents refer to “screens” and “iPhones” with a not-well-hidden tone of loathing in their voice, as if referring to a sinister pied piper who’s bewitching their child’s innocent mind.
They express discomfort that our school allows students to spend as much time as they want on computers, tablets, etc. Generally, the narrative goes like this:“I love the school’s model, and I love the freedom the kids have, but if [my child] can sit in front of the iPad all day, that’s all he/she is going to do.”
This belief tends to be rooted in observation of the child’s behavior at home. Parents assume it will continue at school. After all, why wouldn’t it?
Well, here’s why:
Kids are powerless at home nowadays. Many families live in the suburbs, which are designed exclusively for automobiles, not children. Suburban neighborhoods are typically boring and lack stimulating spaces for kids.
Since everything’s so sprawled apart, it’s unlikely a child has similar-age friends within walking distance. Even if you’re a kid who is lucky enough to have parents who trust you to ride a bicycle around town to visit your friends, that’s quite a chore compared to the fun that can be had sitting on the couch playing games at home. (Of course, contemporary parental paranoia often prevents kids from even transporting themselves anywhere; a sad factor in the decline in children’s free play.)
The situation at our school is totally different. Your friends are already there. There are acres of woods for you to explore. You can go fishing, play sports, or join a club.
Yes, in a free school you have the option to play video games all day if you wish, but why would you? You can do that at home when you’re bored in your parents’ cul-de-sac.
MMuch has been written on the benefits of video games, so I won’t bore you with another summary. Instead I’ll share what I’ve observed at South Jersey Sudbury School. One of the first clubs created was the D&D Club. D&D (Dungeons and Dragons) is not a new game — it was published in 1974 by Gary Gygax and Dave Arneson and has now more than 6 million players. In fact, it isn’t even a video game; it’s a tabletop role-playing game that takes place entirely in the players’ imaginations (and notebooks).
Creative people with big imaginations tend to be attracted to D&D. Despite the lack of flashy graphics and immersive soundscapes, soon after school began in September about a half-dozen students ranging from age eight to 14 quickly learned the rules and began playing nearly every day — making the game by far the most popular activity at our school.
TThe basic gameplay goes like this: One player, the Dungeon Master (DM), imagines the setting of the game and describes it to the other players as the game progresses. It might be medieval, futuristic, or anything in between. The DM creates a plot to drive the game’s storyline, and the other players design unique characters (such as a sneaky rogue or a gallant knight) with their own skill sets and backgrounds to play the game. The game is open-ended — players work together with the DM to guide the game in various directions. Players, for the most part, do not compete against each other but cooperate to overcome challenges introduced by the DM. Each “mission” or “campaign” can last days or weeks before shifting to some other objective. Chance plays a role as well, as dice rolls determine game outcomes, such as attacks, spells, perception of hidden items, charisma, etc.
Aside from being exuberantly fun, D&D (along with many other games) offers a treasure trove of learning experiences and opportunities for creative expression. Players practice arithmetic by keeping track of their players stats (which isn’t always simple) and applying modifiers to their dice rolls. The reliance on dice rolls introduces the concept of probability. A few times, I have heard students wonder about the probability of rolling multiple dice and getting perfect rolls or the worst roll possible. Until now, I have never heard or imagined how probability statistics could be discussed in a fun way.
Other cognitive requirements include extensive memorization of your character’s traits and skills, or (if you are the DM) virtually every facet of the game from the setting, plot, nonplayable characters like monsters, and maintaining consistency across the game world. In fact, the DM must also design maps, dungeons, monsters, and challenges, and might even invent symbols or fictional histories that impact gameplay and the lore of the world.
Our oldest player, the 14-year-old, is our current DM and has created booklets of dungeons, symbols, and lore from which to draw during the game. These imaginary scenarios often lead to discussions of “real-life” topics like physics (“Can someone actually jump this high?” “At what temperature can this material melt?”) or biology (“Can this owl-bear monster rotate its head? Bears can’t, but owls can. Does it have owl vision or bear vision?”).
Many parents will concede the cognitive benefits of tabletop games and perhaps even video games. However, there’s an inevitable objection: “If my child spends so much time playing games, how will he or she be socialized?”
It’s an important question. Social skills like speaking to a group, cooperation, and compromise are invaluable in the “real world.” Luckily, video games have evolved quite a bit since the solitary retro games like Pac-Man and Super Mario that many of today’s parents grew up with. These days, games can be highly social as well as highly immersive.
I like to point out to parents that games, particularly D&D and other multiplayer games, are a sandbox for testing social behavior in a low-stakes, fictional context.
Role-playing, or acting as one’s character, is a creative outlet. It’s immensely fun but also gives players a chance to experience others’ reactions in a playful setting. For example, if a player’s character acts selfishly or antagonizes other characters, the player can learn from the others’ reactions and apply these experiences to his or her own life. (“If you don’t cooperate, other characters won’t want to adventure with you.” “If you lie to others, they won’t trust you.”) Some kids struggle with social development; the opportunity to practice during a game is priceless to them.
Another social benefit is learning how to distinguish between role-playing and real-life interactions. Mature adults have no problem separating in-game behavior from out-of-game relationships. We understand that games are typically played to win and sometimes backstabbing and other less-than-friendly behavior is part of the experience. Afterward, there’s no animosity. Kids may have more difficulty making this distinction. This is where age mixing (a central aspect of our school) comes in. Younger players who might take in-game slights personally can observe the more mature players’ reactions. Once they see the older players take the loss in stride, they come to understand that games are not the same as real conflicts. Games are play, and kids tend to understand.
Multiplayer games also offer an opportunity to practice negotiation. Players can interact with each other to trade or persuade in the hopes of coming to a mutually beneficial arrangement. The lifetime benefits of practicing this skill are fairly obvious.
The last and arguably most important social skill kids can build through gaming is patience. Playing D&D can involve waiting long periods of time while other characters interact with the DM and take their turns. Depending on the situation and the individual player, turns can last just a few moments or as long as 20 minutes. (Incidentally, another popular game at school, Magic: The Gathering, was apparently invented by mathematician Richard Garfield as a way for players to pass time between turns during D&D.)
These lulls are part of the game, and players need to learn to cope (everyone is eager to take their turns, after all) in a way that is not distracting to other players.
Some kids leave the table and do something else in the interim, others spend the time reviewing their character sheets, and some follow the story and prefer to remain immersed as it unfolds.
II hope parents will come to accept that their child’s natural desire to play is a boon, not a hindrance, to his or her education. It’s the drive to seek fun and novelty that motivates us to grow and flourish. Games are educational because they inspire us to delve into new environments and challenge ourselves — what better way to spend their time at school?
