When I was teaching second grade in a Waldorf School in Massachusetts, I had a very small class of very bright students. Often we had extra time towards the end of the day, in part because they we so quick about things like room cleanup and other things I had scheduled.
We had two very special ways we filled this time. One was that I told "The Boys Story". This was an epic story with a cast of thousands that I made up as I told it. Basically it was an adventure story about some English boys who's clubhouse on the river had torn apart in a flood and the boys and Sarah, a friend, were washed away on a bit of flooring that held together.
I think ultimately that we had more than 200 episodes. Epic. This, however, inspired the great failure: the raft. When we went for walks during the school ay, we first had to cross a small stream. Often this became the whole adventure. Have you ever witnessed how much kids like to create dams? How much conversation and consultation and energy and co-operation can go into making a three foot dam on a tiny stream? Amazing, really.
But some days we actually got across the stream and all her temptations and went through "the deep dark forest". So named by the kids who got very serious and vigilant while going through this stand of cedars. They looked out for gnomes and fairies and tried to leave no footprints. (We had had lessons in tracking by Richie, a Tom Brown tracker).
When we arrived at our secret place (a little beach that was popular, but not during school hours) the class decided to make a raft to get to a small island. This became a project which endured for months. Hammers and nails and rope and hinges and colorful cloth and all sorts of stuff started to come in their lunch boxes. They told their parents that we were making a construction project. Each time they worked on it, they had to clean the beach and hide their work. It was important to them that this be a great surprise.
I watched as they foraged for wood and supplies. They actually found a wealth of wood from drowned treas and rotted old buildings. Yup. Everything they used on the raft was pretty much rotten. It was their project. It was their ingenuity and their activity. It got bigger and bigger. They finally brought some wheels from an old carriage to help them move it.
As it came near completion, they decorated it with Water color! flags and drawings, pieces of finger knitting, a few balloons. Then they invited their parents for the launch. "Oh shit" I thought. But, it was their pride. We marched proudly over the stream and through the deep dark forest. The class dragged out their opus and put in in the shallow water and got on it. And it sank.
And they laughed. And soon the parents laughed except for one dad who wanted to rush out and buy them a raft. Te kids didn't miss a beat. All they way back to school they conferred like highly paid consultants and figured out that they couldn't use rotten wood next time, that maybe they could cut small trees of branches and maybe they could find some inner tubes to put under it.
I loved the whole experience. To this day, they can probably all teach the art of raft making. They learned by doing. They failed and no one felt badly. We had a great time. Who ever got the idea that failure was bad for kids?
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