Summerhill School: A Profile

In 1977, when I was 10 years old, my mother sent me to Summerhill School, the world-renowned boarding school in Suffolk, England. Dozens of books have been written about this school, which was founded in 1921 by the Scots educator A.S. Neill. It was the first of what are now known as “progressive schools,” and it was, and still is, based on a unique approach to education. In a nutshell, A.S. Neill believed that children thrive when they experience freedom from coercion. As part of that idea, lessons at Summerhill are optional. The school is run as a democratic community and at the weekly meetings, children and grown-ups have equal votes. A.S. Neill called his approach “Freedom not License” because he believed that children should be free, but that they should not be allowed to disregard others. So we were free to swear as much as we wanted, but if we called someone a bad name, there would be consequences. These consequences were meted out by the other children after having been brought up at a meeting.

When she was a child and had read about the school, my mother had dreamed of going there. So as soon as she became a mother herself she knew where she was going to send me. Ever since I started going to school (and I went to a rich array: Waldorf, Montessori, even, in Spain, a Catholic school run by nuns) I had always loved it. And it wasn’t just because I had lots of good experiences. During a brief stint at an English village school I made such an impression on the teacher that he gave me a copy of “Pollyanna” when I left. I was nine at the time and remember feeling surprised at my mother’s emotion. This guy had been unpleasant to me (he smacked my hands with a ruler, which had made me laugh at the time although in retrospect it doesn’t seem very funny) and now he was giving me a book? I didn’t understand until much later that even though this teacher had been following the strict guidelines of the British school system, he had been touched by my unwavering cheerfulness - and all because there was nothing I liked better than school.

At Summerhill, however, I found my home. Because I grew up as an only child, when I went to Summerhill I felt like I had gained 60 brothers and sisters. I have to admit that I was not very nice when I first got there – I think the freedom went to my head a little. During my first term I remember helping a girl, Clare, to climb into the tree-house and then leaving her there by herself. The first of numerous special meetings of which I was the focus was called. I realize now that these meetings were the kind of notoriety that I was looking for and enjoyed at first. But eventually being called out by my peers began to have an effect on my actions. Summerhill taught me to be aware of how my conduct affects others. It taught me to be strong and to not expect any special treatment for being me. We were all equal in this thoroughly democratic school.

At the weekly meeting, one child would act as chairperson and another as secretary. We would discuss our friends’ misbehavior and any rules we wanted to change. Often someone would bring up bedtime, or lights out. We would suggest that bedtime or lights out should be later, but we hardly ever got enough votes for that. Everybody was happy with the bedtime that we had, of 9.00 or 9.30. If it ever did pass the vote we would usually vote it back down to the earlier time the following week, because chaos would have ensued. The fact that lessons are optional is the one aspect everybody always knows about Summerhill. And it is the single biggest factor that causes the most arguments about the school. Because if a child is not learning during his or her every waking moment, that is a travesty, everybody says. A.S Neill believed the opposite to be true:

“Education should be preparation for life. Our culture has not been very successful. Our education, politics and economics lead to war.” He goes on: “I ask what earthly good can come out of discussions about French or ancient history or what not when these subjects matter not a jot compared to the larger question of life’s fulfillment – of man’s inner happiness.”

He also tells of how the children who had been at the school since kindergarten all went to classes regularly without lapse, but children who arrived later always spent some months enjoying their freedom and not going to class. The amount of time they spent playing hooky was proportional to how bad their experience at a previous school had been. Which makes a salient point: a happy child is going to learn much better than an unhappy one.

Only one child out of the sixty-odd who were at Summerhill when I was there did not go to class at all. The rest of us went every day. Lessons were held during the morning, from straight after breakfast until a late lunch time. We had the afternoons to play and to learn how to get along. To help keep the peace, and, I realize now, because there really was very little adult supervision, we had ombudsmen (of which, more often than not, I was one - once I reached the appropriate age of 13) who were there to sort out disagreements between children. I do feel like the older children were quite often fairly responsible and good about looking after the younger ones, but I know that there were children who felt very alone and left out. The fact that this was a boarding school made this loneliness all the harder to deal with, for those of us who felt that way. There were no parents to go home to at the end of the day. But I mention these children anecdotally, because I was not among them. I can quite honestly say that for most of the six years I spent at Summerhill I was supremely happy. Long summer days spent outside on the swings, playing badminton, climbing trees, swimming in the pool (most of us went naked – what a perfect way to feel good about your body), listening to music. Being able to make my own decisions every day provided me with a lot of self-confidence later on in life and I have always been able to find my way out of situations that may have defeated me otherwise.

There was no uniform and we could wear whatever we wanted to (this was especially important in a country where almost every school required uniform). Not surprisingly, though, we all dressed pretty much the same. I remember one outfit being almost de rigueur amongst the older kids at one point: brown corduroys with a navy blue fisherman’s sweater from Guernsey. If you didn’t have that outfit, well, what can I say? It makes me think that peer pressure is something that occurs no matter where the children are.

People have asked me how going to Summerhill affected me, and that is a hard question to answer. How can I know whether I turned out the way I did because I went to Summerhill or despite the fact? For me, being at a school with lots of children from different countries was an enriching experience and it taught me to be tolerant and open-minded. But the fact that we did not have to go to class was not a big factor for me. I did not feel I had a special privilege in this regard. And at the risk of repeating myself, the reason for that is: I always loved school. I still do. There is nothing I enjoy more than learning and books. After I left Summerhill I went to another boarding school, St. Christopher’s, and I enjoyed that just as much, even though I did have to go to lessons.

All my memories of Summerhill involve friendships. They conjure up summer nights sleeping in tents; dancing and singing at the top of our lungs on a Saturday night; being a DJ up in the “gram box” to make it possible for us to sing and dance; listening to Dire Straits and Fleetwood Mac while cruising on my skateboard or soaking up the sun. The sun figures largely in my memories, which is funny considering that this was England. I can only think that a sunny glow lights up my days at Summerhill because it was pure, unadulterated bliss. If this is what childhood is meant to be about (and I believe that it is), then A.S. Neill got it exactly right with his school.