I think it was my mother who told me that North Country School, to which she was sending me in the autumn of 1942, was "progressive." That meant progressive had to be a glamorous, advanced, and positive thing. I was only seven, but already I knew that everything my mother did was glamorous and advanced. She had been one of New York's first women advertising copywriters, in the 1930's when advertising was still a relatively unfashionable, dashing new field. She was, it went without saying, a Democrat and an ardent New Dealer. In 1942, she was advertising manager for Saks Fifth Avenue, and her clothes were all in the latest style; her cosmetics were samples of brands that weren't even on the market yet.

Progressive education, it seemed, meant children being allowed to wear casual, practical clothes. At the Brearley School, which I'd been attending in Manhattan, I had worn frilly frocks. At North Country School, which was in the country in upstate New York, I wore blue jeans and lumberjack shirts. In New York, I took a bath every night; at North Country, two a week. In New York, Mrs. Johnson, the cook who looked after me, used to force my hair into corkscrew curls with the aid of metal rollers. At North Country, my hair hung straight, confined by only one barrette. My casual clothes and hair meant that I was much more comfortable in classes like "arts and crafts." "Creativity" was something to be encouraged at progressive schools, In addition to Arts and Crafts, I could draw during regular classes at North Country.

In other ways, "progressive education" at North Country defined itself by the life we led, and a busy life it was. We were rousted out of bed at seven a.m., and we dressed hastily,