To Bullied and Bored Teens, North Star Offers ‘Unschooling’ — and a Cup of Ramen

Greg Toppo — Mon, 07 Jul 2025 10:30:00 +0000

Sunderland, Mass.

In the fall of 2016, as her daughter struggled through a disastrous first two weeks in middle school, Emily Harding-Morick searched for a way out.

In class, students sat in desks far apart from one another, with barely a moment to chat between periods. During breaks, monitors herded them through the halls with no time to find a bathroom.

“She was just so unhappy,” the mother recalled.

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That’s when Harding-Morick called Kenneth Danford.

The veteran educator wasted no time, telling her 13-year-old, “You know, yesterday could be your last day of school.”

They were stunned, but Danford persisted: “You don’t have to go back.”

That began a journey that has become increasingly routine in this region: Harding-Morick disenrolled her daughter from middle school and she joined North Star Teens. Guided by Danford, North Star’s co-founder, she spent a year there studying, relaxing and socializing with a small group of like-minded teenagers. Her mother joined its board, eventually becoming its chair.

At its most basic, North Star is a small, private homeschooling collective for middle- and high-schoolers who know they don’t want to go to school anymore, but aren’t sure what comes next.

As more families question the value of school — and as states and the federal government increasingly offer taxpayer dollars for other options — models like North Star’s could take root beyond western Massachusetts’ Pioneer Valley. As it nears three decades in operation, Danford is moving to replicate it.

For 29 years, the private, non-profit center — don’t call it a school — has been a refuge for kids who chafe at the stress, loneliness or bullying of school. They spend a few months or a few years here, catching their breath as they prepare for life after graduation.

With an enrollment of 65, it offers rigorous, one-on-one tutoring; small, personalized classes in history, math, writing and the arts, and extracurriculars like weekly hiking club excursions. This year, young people designed and taught three courses on Dungeons & Dragons.

Or “members,” as they’re called, can simply show up and read a book, sit with friends, take the public bus into nearby Amherst or curl up on the couch with a bowl of ramen. All that’s required is a weekly check-in with an advisor and regular conferences with families.

But that freedom comes with a healthy dose of self-examination. Danford regularly reminds members, “You’re accountable to yourself. Is this the life you want?”

With a tuition scale that slides from $10,000 annually down to whatever a family can afford, North Star has been a quiet presence in the region since its founding in 1996. It has moved three times since then, but in 2015 landed in a faded two-story structure on State Highway 116 that once housed a used furniture store and a Subway sandwich shop.

North Star functions like a gym, social club or even a religious institution: Attendance is encouraged but optional. Members can take classes or not. There are no grades, no transcripts or tests, no roll call and no diploma.

North Star urges families to call if they’re considering an alternative to middle or high school. (Greg Toppo)

Most who seek refuge here have good reason: They’ve been bullied or they’re on the autism spectrum and seeking a smaller, calmer venue. Or they’re LGBTQ and simply don’t feel comfortable at school.

“Some of them are just your non-conformist, skateboarder-poet-musician kids who think, ‘School?’ They roll their eyes,” said Danford. “We tend not to get your football player, cheerleader, sports team kids who want to be popular in school. But we get all the kids they pick on.”

Marley Bernstein, 16, faced years of bullying at a school she said was ill-equipped to stop it. So she stopped going, missing 120 days last year and 64 this year.

She arrived at North Star in late May, filing paperwork to pursue a GED.

You can kind of do whatever you want and not have to look over your shoulder every two minutes.
Marley Bernstein, North Star student

“I feel better being here,” she said one recent morning in the large common room. “It’s nice to just sit. You can walk around, you can kind of do whatever you want and not have to look over your shoulder every two minutes.”

Nearby, friends Asha Morbyrne and Tasha Harris chatted. Tasha confided that “a lot of people here are traumatized,” to which her friend replied, “A lot of people. Middle school is a violent place.”&�Բ��;

Both 13, they confided that they’re here mostly to spend time together, occupying their days slurping ramen and rough-housing in the dance studio upstairs.

“This is, like, the only place I have a functioning friend group,” said Asha.

“Same!” said Tasha.

Tasha Harris, left, and Asha Morbyrne, both 13. (Greg Toppo)

But beneath the apparent slacking, Danford said, is often a quiet purpose. Last fall, Asha wrote a short play that she recently produced at a local theater, while Tasha learned to swim and is a regular on Thursday hikes.

Others arrive seemingly ready for anything. Joshua Wachtel began teaching at North Star in 2010, and last year brought along his stepson Lysander Woodard, who wanted an alternative to sixth grade.

The 12-year-old is trying a bit of everything. He joined a recent service learning trip to Washington, D.C., and is getting tutoring via Khan Academy. He took all three D&D classes, as well as one on the Star Wars canon taught by an adult.

“The freedom is nice,” Lysander said.

Gabriel Doire, 14, models a suit of armor he fabricated from discarded license plates. (Greg Toppo)

Danford urges supporters and skeptics alike to look past the unusual structure and “keep your eyes on the prize.” It isn’t regular attendance or even being a member of the community, he said. “The prize is independent control of your life.”

Flipping the unschooling paradigm

A powerfully built Gen Xer from Ohio, Danford got straight As in high school in Shaker Heights, a prosperous Cleveland suburb. He cut his teeth teaching social studies in public middle schools in the Washington, D.C., area and in Amherst, but soon grew weary of micromanagement from administrators.

He left to earn his master’s degree, and was considering leaving education altogether when he read Grace Llewelyn’s seminal 1991 guide . Subtitled “How to Quit School and Get a Real Life and Education,” it changed his thinking about student agency, offering a template for young people searching for a different kind of education outside of school, a strategy often called “.”&�Բ��;

You're accountable to yourself. Is this the life you want?
Kenneth Danford, founder of North Star

Most unschoolers were younger, returning to school by ninth grade. But to Danford, high school was where kids could benefit most from its freedom as they separate from parents and find themselves as individuals.

He essentially flipped the paradigm: “If you made it through elementary school, why don’t you quit while you’re ahead? Make it to sixth grade and then quit. Unschool the rest of the way.”

It helps that the state of Massachusetts takes a hands-off approach to homeschoolers and largely stops supervising them once they’re 16.

“You don’t like school?” he tells prospective members, “Don’t go back. Don’t ever go back in the building. Send someone in to get your books. I help families write a homeschooling plan. Do it tonight, this week.”

‘I just could not stop crying.’

For Trixie Lawless, enrolling in North Star was a no-brainer. Her mother had worked there as a teacher and knew its benefits. But she had to persuade her father.

By sophomore year, she’d spent a lot of time skipping classes at her high school in Amherst. “I enjoyed my day,” she said, reading, writing short stories, taking in movies or museums.

“I was like, ‘I’m homeschooling right now. If I just had a math tutor, I would be fine.’”

But skipping all those classes meant pointless makeup work and the black mark of unexcused absences. While it was mostly worth it, the prospect of another year in school eventually took a toll.

While visiting family last summer in Connecticut, she recalled, “I just could not stop crying.” Even for Trixie, this was a shock. She can usually hide her emotions, “even when I’m feeling really horrible. So when it got to that breaking point, where it was like, ‘I can’t even keep up with myself anymore,’ that was the first time I’d ever really let it through.”

Her father took notice. Trixie enrolled in the fall.

Having time to herself in a community of people who all want to be here, she said, is “so much nicer. It definitely wouldn’t be for everyone, but it has given me the space I knew I needed to feel better.”

Trixie Lawless, 16, shows off a homemade temporary tattoo drawn by a fellow member of North Star Teens. (Greg Toppo)

She’s now studying for the GED with plans to start classes at Greenfield Community College in the fall. After a year at North Star, she’s beginning to appreciate how different members experience the center.

“It’s about how you fill the space — a lot of people here do that by playing video games and organizing D&D campaigns.” She does it by oversubscribing to English and writing classes. “It’s a place for people who know what works for them.”

Second-generation members

By now, the center has been around long enough that it’s beginning to serve the children of its original members. One even teaches there: Aaron Damon-Rush arrived at North Star in 2011, when he was just 11, and stayed for seven years. He went on to attend nearby Hampshire College and returned in 2022 as alumni coordinator. Now 25, he teaches courses in film, game design and other disciplines.

Tutor Frank Keimig helps a North Star member during a recent one-on-one session. (Greg Toppo)

At North Star, he took classes in psychology and criminal justice, learning about the morality of the death penalty and victims’ rights when he was just 12. “That was a huge, mind-blowing experience for me,” he said.

In lieu of finals and graduation, each member sits for a meeting with their parents and a handful of staffers where they review the year. They often find it’s their best year of schooling, even though they’re technically not in school. Parents speak tearfully of their kids opening up about classes for the first time, Danford said.

“It is all fantastic, even the hard cases,” he said.

As North Star nears its 30th anniversary, Danford, who’s 59, is nearly two-thirds of the way through what he calls a 45-year plan: In the first 15 years, he built it; in the second, he worked to make it run increasingly without him. Now he’s planning to step away so he can write, speak and consult with other educators who want to create something similar.

A network of centers, loosely affiliated with North Star, already boasts about a dozen locations worldwide. And Danford continues to offer the same message to weary young people who show up at his door.

“Just take the year, breathe, wonder what you should be doing,” he said. “Meanwhile we’re gonna unlock the door and give you a couch — and we’ll be nice to you. Turns out that’s really healthy and responsible.”&�Բ��;

While most mainstream educators would say letting young people “do nothing” for a year is out of the question, he sees it differently: In the unschooling world, he said, “there’s no such thing as ‘doing nothing.’ ”