A quirky teacher who for the last 12 years staged a tiny revolution against the standardization of American education is closing the doors of his one-room schoolhouse in Evanston.
Lyn Lesch, founder of The Children’s School, was driven by a simple philosophy: Learning happens when it is molded around a child’s individual talents and interests, not when it forces children to conform to a rigid teacher-directed system.
But his vision was blindsided by the financial realities required to keep a private school afloat, especially one as small as Lesch’s. A veteran Montessori teacher who opened his own school in 1991, Lesch told parents and students last week he will close it after the school year ends May 30.
“I just feel very strongly that this is how children should be educated,” said Lesch, 54. “But I can’t do it anymore. I’m exhausted, and I’m getting deeper and deeper in debt. I didn’t want to be one of those burned-out teachers … just going through the motions.”
Freedom, attention for kids
In an era when quality schooling is often equated with passing scores on standardized tests, Lesch’s educational model was as fuzzy as it gets. No established curriculum. No tests. No grades. No scheduled times for lessons or lunch. Just loads of individual attention and intellectual freedom in a nurturing setting that had parents and graduates singing the school’s praises.
“My son wouldn’t be where he is without Lyn,” said Matt Silvers, whose 8-year-old son, Max, was struggling mightily in school before his parents stumbled upon The Children’s School two years ago. “We were desperately looking for answers, and Lyn was there to offer those answers. He seems to invest a little bit of himself in every one of his students.”
If there is such a thing as a typical day at this atypical school, this is it:
In one corner, 11-year-old A.J. reviews Einstein’s theory of relativity. Nearby, 7th grader Aaron rebuilds a pyramid of Sprite cans on a computer table. Max leafs though an advanced algebra book while ignoring a worksheet of basic multiplication he has yet to master. During art, 7-year-old Jordana spends her time trying unsuccessfully to trade beads with her classmates but never starts the snowflake project planned for that day. Eighth grader Elizabeth lounges on a battered plaid couch studying polynomials for pre-calculus and dreaming up dialogue for the 40-page novella she’s writing.
Housed in an Evanston community center, the K-8 school is more akin to a home-school cooperative than more traditional private schools with their pricey tuition and competitive admission requirements. Enrollment at The Children’s School has fluctuated over the years from a high of around 30 to its current low of five.
As at other private and parochial schools, the state has no say over its teachers, testing, curriculum or enrollment.
Myra McGovern, spokeswoman for the National Association of Independent Schools, said tiny independents such as Lesch’s are unusual because they are difficult to sustain with so few pupils.
“The idea of a really individualized program could be really appealing for parents … but it’s difficult to run and difficult to manage financially,” said McGovern, who added that many small independent schools struggle to cover expenses, even with an average tuition of more than $11,000.
Lesch, who charges $4,100 a year, blames himself for the school’s demise, saying he failed to strike a balance among his responsibilities as teacher, administrator and business owner. Last spring, he considered closing the school after a spate of 8th graders’ graduations sent the school’s enrollment plummeting from an ideal 15, but decided instead to operate at a loss.
Parents’ rescue attempt fails
When parents suggested he increase tuition, Lesch refused, saying he wanted to keep it affordable for all families. Lesch said he is not drawing a salary this year, and he’s had to dip into his savings to cover expenses for rent, materials and salaries for his two part-time teachers.
Matt Silvers, along with other supporters, tried to help Lesch rescue the school, creating a Web site and a brochure advertising a new name, The Community School, adopted in the last year. And although Silvers’ son Max is disappointed he won’t be returning to Lesch’s classroom in the fall, Silvers knows the experience will enable his son to adapt better to a more traditional private school.
“Max has the interests of a college student but with a low emotional maturity,” Silvers said. Before enrolling at Children’s, Max dreaded school and acted out so frequently that he spent many days in the principal’s office. He stopped doing all schoolwork and fell behind in reading and math.
Max is now a friendly and eager 3rd grader, passionate about old computers, Neanderthals and the Mayan civilization. For his quarterly project, Max did an analysis of how circuit boards resemble aerial photos.
Like all of the school’s pupils, Max must complete daily assignments covered by an individualized curriculum plan created by Lesch, Max and his parents. It requires daily work with math flash cards, reading aloud every day, improving reading comprehension, geography and map reading, physics and atomic structure–work that must be taken home if not completed in class.
“I was really skeptical, but Max has really flourished there,” said Silvers, the son of a public school teacher. “I just had to put aside my preconceived ideas of what school should be.”
Founder `just understands’
Former student Camille Nickow said Lesch should be proud of what he accomplished. Camille spent four happy years at Children’s, the first place she felt challenged and the first school she loved. A 13-year-old freshman at the Chicago Academy for the Arts, Camille recalled how Lesch reassured her when she was worried about handling regular classes, nightly homework and formal exams.
She even left Children’s at the start of her 8th-grade year, thinking her public school in Highland Park would offer her a better transition. She lasted there a month. When Camille returned, Lesch agreed to add regular tests and papers to ease her adjustment to high school.
“I’m not sure how he does it, but we came out so prepared. Anything you wanted to learn, Lyn found a way to teach you,” said Camille, who recalled mini-courses Lesch created in filmmaking, psychology and law.
Marcia Nickow said her children–Camille and older brother Andre–wanted to attend Lesch’s school after their first visit in 1998. Suspicious of the offbeat school with its “child-directed learning,” Nickow called the families of more than a dozen former students, all of whom reassured her that her kids would thrive there.
“That school was the best thing that ever happened to my kids,” Nickow said. “I thought my kids needed acceleration, but what they really needed was freedom. I think [Lesch] just understands, in a very intimate way, how children need to learn.”
Lesch expects he will return to teaching but plans to take a year off to write a book about his careerlong revolt against the rigid curriculum and testing mania he believes thwarts learning and demoralizes even the most committed teachers.
“If 10 of my students become real individuals in their lifetime, then it will be worth it,” he said.
