It is 2052 . . .

It is 2052 and you are thirty-seven.

You’ve had a sterling career, never quite begun one, or managed something between.

Now you see that to compose music or apply paint or play in a room with kids is your true work.

Where you can make shoes or music, offer workshops with signature, hold space by your spirit . . . that’s where you should be.

The business that mills people into neighbors? Well, you could give your life to it.

And maybe you are not thirty-seven but seventeen.  Or seventy-seven.

So you go to Molly School.

School lasts a day.

You walk and you talk and drink coffee and share a meal.

There are nine other “Agents” along with a teacher.

And as an agent you leave with homework and cash–1000 euros–to invest or give away or donate.

And the day and the students and the talk and the walk and the meal and the coffee and the looking and the money produce a plan or a map or a belief in the work you will do now.

You go from kinda interested in bread to baking sourdough, from scribbles on the page to proud author, from questioning the ladder you climb to boosting others up.

You can make a life that calls to your soul, give meaning to others and be a cog that shapes the machine around you.

You will be the system of change we need to see in the world.

School as it should be.

Might our too hot, too fractious, too tribal, and too corporate age benefit from a cadre of teachers trained to give away 1000 euros to an army of students taught to work as themselves?  To stitch the social fabric and seed the ground for work only humans like themselves can do, the jobs of the future?

Is 2022-2051 enough time to practice and build and iterate the system that will fund that army, train the cadre?  To grow teachers whose school and village can do in a day what we propose to do now in a month?

Let’s find out.

–Molly