Henry Can Fly!

Henry is a star. I am convinced of this. If we really do things right he could be the next in line to beat Javier Sotomayor's high-jump record of 2.45meters set in 1993.

Henry getting an early start
on his Parkour career.

But before we get too carried away by these dreams of penta-Olympic-rings-of-glory, let me take you back to an iconic story I stumbled upon when first stepping out and into alternative approaches to education. In his renown talk, Schools Kill Creativity, Sir Ken Robinson, tells the compelling story of Gillian Lynne former Broadway Ballerina and and in her later years Dame Commander of the Order of the British Empire. In brief the story goes like this:

"Lynne's gift for dancing was discovered by a doctor. She had been underperforming at school, so her mother took her to the doctor and explained about her fidgeting and lack of focus. After hearing everything her mother said, the doctor told Lynne that he needed to talk to her mother privately for a moment. He turned on the radio and walked out. He then encouraged her mother to look at Lynne, who was dancing to the radio. The doctor noted that she was a dancer, and encouraged Lynne's mother to take her to dance school" (from Wikipedia. For the full talk visit: HERE)

I think of this every day that I see Henry. You see, I believe that Henry can fly. 

One year ago, when Henry first joined our kindergarten family, it became quite clear that Henry had a fascination and furthermore a skill for jumping. Rather than coerce him into walking around like the rest of us, our class routines and dynamics began to change, drastically, in order to accommodate a more Tigger-approach to life; rather than meditative yoga stretches to start off our morning we did dance steps that stressed a big jump on the four; rather than three-legged races we focused on leap frogging; the tug-o-war rope became a giant jump rope and every staircase our Mulberry-Street-see-what-you-can-see walks became a stage for Henry to perform for us upon. Indeed, Henry can fly to the stars.

Thinking back to the success story of Gillian Lynne however, I believe it is key to empathize with the many difficulties her parents may have faced when taking on the alternative advice on pushing for Ballet school rather than a prescription drug. What does it look like to full-heartedly accept such seemingly radical advice? What does it feel like to holistically commit to a decision like: my daughter is a dancer!!?? It all sounds fine and dandy upon reaching Broadway status, but what about the haunting voices of doubt that were bound to have paid them a visit or two all along her long tread journey to stardom: "A dancer? You can't make a living off of dancing? You must focus on what's important!"

Henry's parents, I believe, are blessed with a similar challenge. You see, I believe that Henry is a jumper. And it is our duty as school and parents to foster who he is and avoid at all costs melting Henry into becoming like the rest of us. We need to be outside jumping with him, not inside doing everything we can to contain his love for jumping into the amalgamated version of the status-quo for a "normal" 4 year old. 

Author, Mythologist and Storyteller, Michael Meade speaks out against this mistaken concept of education and lures us gently towards a more ancient idea of what education and culture should offer each of us, Henry included:

"[In the past] the purpose of education was to unveil and make more clear the GENIUS in each of us. This was one of the essential roles of culture: to bring out the genius in each person".

He goes on to remind us that: "every child born brings genius into the world and the culture's role is to help the child find it, so that they don't wind up in despair hurting themselves or hurting others."

It is within the dimensions of this ancient wisdom that I am doing my best to take everything I have learned and make it work for Henry and each of the children I have the blessing to work with. But the challenge parents face in REALLY accepting the genius and uniqueness of our children is no small matter. 

I believe Henry can fly. Do you?