From Structure to Self-Direction: Redefining Learning Time in an Arts-Based Classroom

Greg Mullen
Nov 12
10 min read

The Art of Letting Go (but only just enough)

This fall, my classroom became an ongoing experiment in trust, growth, and self-discovery with the development of a self-directed learning environment. My central goal was to nurture metacognition and self-determination by helping children learn how to think about their own thinking, manage their time, and navigate the emotions that accompany learning.

At an arts-based school that celebrates creativity and reflection, the shift from a tightly scheduled day to an open, choice-driven environment was both natural and welcome. What surprised me most, however, was what didn’t change: academic mastery. Despite spending far less time on explicit lessons, drills, and compliance routines, my students’ progress in reading, writing, and math has remained on pace with that of more traditional classrooms I’ve taught in.

This realization continues to be both simple and profound: the absence of visible management is not the absence of learning. I wrote about this idea in a post from Oct 2022 called, Evidence does not equal learning.

Core Values as the Foundation of Autonomy

Early on, we established six guiding values that served as our class rules: Respect, Responsibility, Trust, Fairness, Integrity, and Community. These became the language of every decision we made. Rather than training students to follow a strict list of “Do’s and Don’t” directions on command, I coached them to make thoughtful choices based on shared values without the use of rewards or punishments.

In previous years, I had devoted significant time to rehearsing routines, teaching compliance systems, and reinforcing reward-and-consequence cycles. This year, while I did start the year with some protocols relevant to emergency procedures (lining up in number order and getting from one location to another), the time spent lining up and waiting for compliance has been redirected toward exploration, reflection, and peer-based collaboration.

The result has been not chaos, but cohesion: students have internalized not just the norms of cooperation because they are co-creating them but because they have internalized the purpose and rationale for those norms in relation to our six core values. That first six weeks was critical to developing a foundation for what we have been able to accomplish these past six weeks.

Reclaiming Learning Time

Traditional school days often fracture learning into teacher-managed segments where certain times of day are dedicated to specific subject areas and within each specific block of time are segments of teacher-directed learning protocols, e.g. ten minutes of directions, twenty minutes of task time, five minutes of transitions, etc. In my classroom, those structures have loosened. Students now spend extended blocks engaged in academic games, creative projects, or interest-driven exploration with the specific grade-level learning targets visible to students to explore as they feel ready to do so.

At first glance, it might appear that less formal instruction means less progress. Yet when I began tracking standards mastery, I noticed the opposite. Students who spent more time exploring still demonstrated growth comparable to, and often faster than, their peers in more rigid environments. The students who are spending comparably less time on grade-level learning targets are still engaging in academic conversations with their peers even though have not yet engaged in assessment of their mastery to reflect that learning formally (...yet!).

What I am observing is that, without the constant interruption of transitions, reminders, or external motivators, students are approaching tasks with intrinsic focus. They master concepts not through repetition, but through relevance. A math standard practiced in a student-designed game, a reading goal pursued through a chosen story, or a peer-driven discussion about vocabulary seems to be carrying more cognitive weight than constant worksheets ever could.

Socioemotional Foundations: From Emotional Regulation to Peer Accountability

The shift toward self-directed learning has unfolded alongside an equally important transformation in our social and emotional culture. Over the past twelve weeks, the classroom has become a space where emotional regulation, trust, and peer accountability have grown alongside academic mastery. This change did not happen suddenly. Through conversations, shared frustrations, and moments of reflection, this emerged amidst the inherent conflicts and confusion of the learning process as a natural part of a self-directed learning environment.

Early in the year, student emotions rose as they occasionally struggled with disappointment, impulsivity, or disagreement, and at times those emotions surfaced as tears, frustration, or anger. Rather than treating those moments as interruptions to learning, I treated them as part of the learning process itself. When students confronted each other over fairness or argued about shared materials, we paused; not to impose punishment, but to unpack what was happening and why.

Those “in the moment” reflections gradually became a hallmark of our classroom culture. After tense exchanges, students began participating in conversational repairs (students don't call them that) where they practiced describing their feelings, acknowledging impact, and proposing what to do differently next time -- this is an ongoing skill set I coach students to use. As the classroom teacher, it has been my role to model these kinds of conversations when I am needed to intervene or redirect a student, reminding all students during daily conversations and discussions to look for these moments and remember that my number one job involves the health and safety of students both physically and emotionally. Learning comes second; indeed, it comes as a byproduct of that health and safety. Each discussion helped normalize emotional honesty and slowly reduced the need for adult mediation over time. When classmates became frustrated, peers are now quietly stepping in to help. That shift, from reacting to relating, and away from expecting the teacher to solve all problems, marked an early sign of empathetic reasoning replacing individual defensiveness.

At the same time, I noticed a subtle shift in tone during work-related frustrations. When tasks become difficult, it’s common for students to disengage or call for help immediately. While this is still occurring and continues to be something I am coaching, more students are starting to talk through their academic obstacles with peers, using language modeled earlier in the year during morning circles: What part’s confusing you? or Want to look at mine for an idea? What began as teacher prompts evolved into peer-to-peer coaching that is now being modeled by peers and picked up by other students over time.

This transfer of ownership over learning from teacher to student was not a single event or the direct result of any one lesson or conversation I offered students, but rather a slow release of responsibility nurtured through daily dialogue. Students learned that autonomy comes with accountability, meaning that the freedom to choose their learning path carries with it the responsibility to contribute to a positive and supportive environment. Over time, that paradox of individual freedom and collective responsibility produced a peer-based understanding of accountability that now underpins both our academic and emotional growth in our shared learning space.

By the time students began leading their own learning blocks, the foundation had already been laid, reflecting on how to manage conflict through conversation, to treat confusion as a shared opportunity for problem-solving, and to view their peers not as competitors but as collaborators. Initial student frustration at the idea that their teacher wasn’t going to solve what could be solved through collaboration has become a hallmark of our classroom. What once required my constant facilitation had evolved into community-driven regulation, a classroom culture sustained by trust, empathy, and reflective dialogue.

Metacognition in Motion

As reflection became the heartbeat of our day, students regularly assessed how they used their time by considering three guiding questions:

Did I spend my time in a balanced way based on the purpose of our classroom: to learn, to help others learn, and to have fun in the process?
What small change could make tomorrow even better? (Emphasizing comparison not by others but by our past selves)
How does my learning connect to the kind of person I want to become? (Emphasizing reflection on how we exhibit the core values of our class)

During one class reflection, several students acknowledged they hadn’t used their time wisely and shared plans to “use their time better tomorrow.” That conversation captured the very essence of learning ownership: self-correction rooted in self-awareness.

The insight was clear: students learn more then just academics when they manage their own focus, even if it isn’t on my preferred schedule for when specific learning should happen. Every minute not spent on ensuring individual students are rewarded for individual compliance in pursuit of whole class cohesion was a minute gained for both individual and collective reflection, creativity, and peer coaching.

Freedom, Focus, and Comparable Outcomes

I often hear from colleagues and families opinions regarding how this kind of open-ended learning must lead to lower test scores or slower mastery. Yet, as I continue to observe student progress in core standards, the data tells a different story. Many students who spend large portions of the day on academic games, interest projects, or peer discussions perform at levels similar to previous years’ classes who had spent far more time in traditional instruction.

Of course, a minority of students in this environment are taking more time to find their stride in balancing the school’s learning targets and their own interest-driven endeavors. Compare that to traditional whole-class instructional models where a similar percentage of students succeed while a minority continue to struggle year in and year out with little to no time to engage in anything but the school’s learning targets.

This suggests that the quality of engagement matters more than the quantity of control. Students who feel empowered to choose when and how to meet learning goals show a deeper understanding of concepts and a stronger willingness to practice them voluntarily. Students who are new to, or struggle with, the concept of metacognitive self-awareness and self-management aren’t unable or without capacity; rather, these students may benefit from small group instruction and guidance as a means of differentiation within an otherwise effective model; essentially flipping the script on the traditional model that places emphasis on explicit instruction and extrinsic motivation strategies for the majority of students regardless of the presence of intrinsic motivation to learn.

The trade-off is striking: I spend less time managing behaviors and more time mentoring curiosity. They, in turn, spend less time complying and more time learning the things that are important to them (even when it isn't necessarily important to me as their teacher).

The Role of the Teacher as Coach

Teaching in this model has required a new rhythm. I no longer script every transition or hold the steering wheel at every turn. Instead, I move through the room as a guide offering feedback, posing reflective questions, and connecting student projects to standards.

This has by no means been a passive role!

My role is highly active and intentional. By releasing control of minute-to-minute management, I have reclaimed the bandwidth to observe behavior patterns, design supports, and respond to readiness rather than resistance. My presence signals partnership, not surveillance. The difference is in what I am observing. Instead of watching for students not doing the work I assigned, I'm watching for how student behaviors reflect priorities and interest. I watch for what students need to learn, and the motivating factors responsible for it.

When a student spends a significant number of hours on developing their typing skills using a particular typing program, it's my role to ask what progress they've made in relation to their short term goal for practicing. If they've lost sight of why they're practicing, it serves as an opportunity to reflect on that momentary feeling of purpose and priorities as a student with goals both large and small, providing a sound board for the student to think about whether they need to shift their focus – or not.

Likewise, the student who I observe diligently studying a math standard, shifting focus on a preferred reading strategy to extend vocabulary, then working on a larger project before taking time to play chess with a friend at the end of the day, it's my role to pay closer attention not to their proficient work habits but to their cognitive flexibility in how they're approaching these tasks in ways that don't just challenge them academically but creatively and perhaps socially – arguably a more difficult task.

Every student will have their particular academic, social, and emotional strengths and gaps which, as the classroom teacher, these observations make up a significant part of my day in class, watching for individual, pairs, and small group challenges – academically, socially, and emotionally. In this way, I am not as much a teacher of reading, writing, and math (which I am!) as much a teacher of human development emphasizing individual capacity for metacognition and self-determination towards learning about how we learn as humans in ways that promote competence, autonomy, and relatedness (both intra- and inter-personally).

What the Data Don’t Show

Traditional metrics often fail to capture what autonomy makes possible. Yes, my students are meeting grade-level standards at a rate comparable to many other third grade classes with some students mastering many academic targets and others mastering fewer due to exploration of other areas of interest. The distinction is in how all students are developing habits of reflection, empathy, and initiative that cannot be quantified on academic assessments.

For years, early in my career, I was trained to manage every student every minute to ensure learning, and minimize distraction from learning. That time is now spent managing meaning, not behavior. Conflict still arises, of course, as expected due to the nature of learning as a social activity. What this means is I am coaching students on identifying purpose, exploring curiosity, and building a confidence to act which isn't necessarily a capacity all students develop on their own, as much as I am serving as an instructional resource for academics.

In the end, this intentional shift to self-direction has reaffirmed what the arts have always taught: when learners are trusted to explore, they create. And creation, in its many forms, is the truest measure of mastery.

Next Steps

With twelve weeks of groundwork behind us, the next step is to extend self-directed learning from a guided practice to a whole-class culture. The coming months will focus on weaving together the habits we’ve been cultivating, the core values, emotional regulation, reflective dialogue, and student choice, all into a shared framework for academic and creative inquiry.

I will continue coaching students on applying their metacognitive awareness to both state standards and personally meaningful projects, designing ways to demonstrate mastery that reflect their interests and strengths. My role will shift further away from direct instructor to coach and collaborator, supporting students in setting goals, monitoring progress, and engaging peers as partners in learning, providing explicit instruction when relevant to, and within the parameters of, what students have chosen to learn.

My aim is to create a classroom ecosystem where curiosity, reflection, and accountability coexist, where each student can navigate academic expectations and self-initiated exploration, and where growing confidence and integrity thrive. I know this will involve students making mistakes, missing deadlines, struggling to collaborate, and many other traditional classroom challenges, but it is with this lens of self-directedness and my role as a coach for human development as much if not more than academic instruction that these challenges are to be addressed in quite an untraditional classroom model I call self-directed schooling.