Volume 4, Issue 2: March - April, 2003

Contents Cover Story     Risky Behavior Articles     President’s Pen     Sue’s Review     Cartoon Features     Letters     News Links     Redirect

President’s Pen by David Schneider-Joseph, ASFAR President My Youth Rights Journey   When I joined ASFAR three years ago, I certainly never expected that I would one day become its president!  It seems fitting at this moment to talk about how I got to this point: what led me to sign up for a radical youth rights organization in the first place, how I joined its board of directors and later became its president, and finally, what my vision is for ASFAR’s future.   But first, congratulations to the 2003 board on their election!  Oliver Traldi, Susan Wishnetsky, Justin Mallone, Tevi Abrams, Jacob Kafka, and Winston Featherly-Bean, that means you!  Oh, and me.   OK, so where was I?  Ah, right.   What exactly made me consider the topic of ageism?  It’s hard to say; I can’t remember a time when I didn’t think about these things.  Maybe it had to do with the fact that I had two parents who disagreed a lot — particularly in the areas of parenting — so it forced me to come to the conclusion that one of them must be wrong, and therefore I must reach my own conclusions.  As it turned out, they both were wrong, as all people are, quite often.   I couldn’t understand why I had to go to church, when no adults had to go to church if they chose not to (freedom of religion, right?).  I couldn’t understand why I was considered too stupid to be exposed to the ideas in R-rated movies.  I couldn’t understand why I had to waste my time doing the mindless busywork that my school assigned me, when I’d always believed that the activities I chose for myself were far more educational.  I couldn’t understand why I didn’t get to punish my parents for being bad, but they got to punish me.  I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t allowed to open a bank account in my own name, or apply for a loan.  I couldn’t understand why companies would refuse to hire me.   What was worse, no one seemed to agree with me, not even the other kids.  Sure, they hated school just as much as I did, but it was for their own good, right?  And then there were the adults, who would say stuff like: ”You can’t drive a car because you’re too short.”  My barber can tell them about phone books.  Or: ”You just wait till your older.  You’ll see.”  Well, I'm older.   It’s not that I thought they didn’t mean well.  I knew they meant well.  It’s just that they were so wrong.  It would always annoy me to no end when they’d assure me that they were only doing this or that because they loved me.  I wonder how they’d like it if their boss docked their paycheck for a week because they refused to eat their peas.  It’s only because he loves you, remember.   Of all these issues, my education was the most important to me, because if I’m not in control of what I can think about, then just what am I in control of?  I’d always been in a bit of a power tug with my teachers and parents in this area, and it culminated on my fifteenth birthday, when I decided that as a present to myself, I would drop out of high school, leading me to experience the wonders of our compulsory education laws.  In no time at all I was ordered back to school.   And yeah, I went back to school, since I was threatened with worse if I didn’t, but I didn’t really do the work.  Sure, I’d do enough to slide by, but most of the time I was in my own world.  My teachers would think I was at home doing my homework, and my dad would think I was at school doing my homework.  Instead, I’d be at the public library, reading books.  That’s when I read Summerhill, a book about a school by the same name in England where there is no required curriculum.  I’ll flip through Summerhill today, and find a lot to disagree with.  But four and a half years ago, it was my only window into another world: a world where young people are treated with the dignity that adults are accorded, and where they live their lives as they see fit.  There was no turning back.   That book gave me the courage to decide that what I was doing was ridiculous.  They can make me go to school, I thought, but they can’t make me do the work.  So I decided one day that I would forthrightly announce to my teachers that I had no intention of doing their assignments.  It was a tremendously liberating feeling.  A great weight had come off my shoulders.   The next week, the school asked me to leave (it was a private school, so they could do that).  Actually, they offered me another chance: promise to shape up, and you can stay, they said.  As tempting as it was to not have to leave my friends, I knew that I would be no less miserable than I was before.  So it didn’t take long for me to reach my decision.  The question was: where would I go?  I’d still have to attend some school, at least until I turned sixteen.   I described what I wanted in a school to my math teacher: I wanted it to be a facility, a resource, for me, not a prison.  It would be there to answer my needs and desires, to help me learn about the stuff I wanted to learn about.  There would be no required classes, tests, grades, anything.  “Have you heard of Sudbury Valley?”, she asked.  I hadn’t, but I immediately looked it up on the Internet.  The next week, I was enrolled there.   “The Sudbury Valley School is a place where children are free,” starts the description on its web site.  All the students may spend their days doing whatever activities they like, whether that means reading books, taking classes, playing video games, climbing trees, having conversations, or just staring out the window.  SVS is legally governed democratically by the school members, like a town; all the students and staff have one vote in the School Meeting, the body which makes all the rules, hires and fires all the staff members, and allocates the budget.  The rules are enforced (on the staff members, too!) with due process in a court-like system, and the students are truly entitled to a trial by jury of their peers, because the judicial committee is composed of students and staff.   Discovering Sudbury Valley was a life-changing experience, and it opened the door for me to the youth rights community.  I was posting on Internet discussion groups on the topic in early 2000, and Daniel McGuire (then an ASFAR board member) noticed my posts and suggested that I check out the ASFAR web site.  I immediately liked what I saw, and joined.  Later that year, Aaron Biterman (another board member at the time) coaxed me into running for a position on the board of directors.  I was elected by the membership and I’ve been a board member ever since.  Now that our previous president, Justin Mallone, has decided to devote his energy to other endeavors, I’m honored that the board has elected me to take his place.  I thank Justin for his terrific leadership during his two year term.  I believe he was our best President ever.   That brings us to today.  What does the future hold for ASFAR and the youth rights movement?  I believe that the key is in the formation of local chapters.  Our Internet community is great, but participating in ASFAR can often feel like you’re one person at a computer, working with a group of kindred, but distant, folk.  There’s nothing like meeting like-minded people face-to-face, having great political debates with them, organizing demonstrations, and lobbying for change.  So this year, I want to see lots of local chapters springing up around the nation.  For our part, the board and I will be working to make chapter formation easier.  But we really can't do it without you.  The best thing you can do for ASFAR right now is to email our secretary, Susan Wishnetsky, and request that she send you information on forming a chapter.  It’s really very easy.  You just need to get a group of people together and decide on your bylaws.  What then?  Well, what do you care about?  Do you want to lower your city’s voting age, like some are trying right now in Cambridge, Massachusetts and Anchorage, Alaska?  Maybe you can help kids who are fighting to take control of their own education.  You don’t have to succeed!  Even if your efforts fail, you’re exposing the world to these ideas.  The kind of change that ASFAR hopes for takes time.  It’s a gradual process, but change happens.   In the mean time, I look forward to a great year with you guys!