Every morning, 160 middle school children rush into their school gymnasium, sit down, close their eyes and meditate. The room falls silent. No one whispers, rustles their papers or squirms in their seats.
The Nataki Talibah Schoolhouse, a charter K-8 school in Detroit, is one of a handful of public schools in the country that incorporates a popular relaxation technique called Transcendental Meditation into their curriculum.
For 10 minutes at the beginning and end of the school day, Nataki's older students try to calm the chatter in their minds and the jumpiness in their bodies so they can concentrate fully on school work.
Nataki's teachers say the technique works: children seem more alert and more focused. They aren't as tired by the end of the school day. Moreover, a recent study of the Nataki school by the University of Michigan found that students who meditate manage stress more effectively and get along better with their peers.
Now, a group of local practioners wants to add "Ommmmm" to the three R's in Rhode Island, claiming that it will work wonders, from reducing school violence to improving student performance.
"During the practice of meditation, the mind settles down," says Peter Scharf, a Sanskrit lecturer at Brown University and an advocate of TM. "It feels deeper than the deepest sleep. It makes it easier for us to sit still and be focused and relaxed."
But adding TM to the school curriculum raises the question: Is it religion, and, if so, doesn't it breach the wall between church and state?
Advocates say it is not a religion because it doesn't require a specific set of beliefs. Instead, they say that TM is a simple, effortless technique that uses a mantra to help the mind settle down and throw off stress.
At a time when public schools are struggling with budget crises and the rigorous demands of No Child Left Behind, is it fair to ask them to tackle one more problem?
Scharf says TM should be at the center of education, not consigned to its periphery.
"People find education frustrating because they're not learning about their relationship to the universe," said Marcia Kaspark, director of the Transcendental Meditation Program Center. "We call this consciousness-based education because we are developing our inner sense of intelligence."
Rhode Island advocates say they want to start out small, with a pilot program in a single district. Funding for the project would come from grants and donations. In Detroit, for example, DaimlerChrysler and General Motors have paid for most of the training, which costs an average of $150,000 a year.
When you consider what schools spend on violence and substance abuse prevention, Kaspark says, spending this kind of money on a technique that gets to the root of these behaviors doesn't seem out of hand.
As ethereal as this all sounds, the Rhode Island Department of Education is keeping an open mind about the possibility of using meditation in the classroom.
"It could fit in with the health curriculum," said spokesman Elliot Krieger. "However, schools would have to be very careful that it's not a religious exercise."
At least one principal, Joseph Maruszczak of Ponaganset High School, said meditation might make sense if incorporated into a health and wellness curriculum that looks at the whole teenager.
"Here we are, obsessing about accountability and standards," he says. "We're all stressed-out. Think what this is doing to the kids. The more I pore over our present system, I think we have to blow it up and start all over again. If the new model speaks to the whole child, maybe an idea like this isn't so kooky after all."
Transcendental Meditation burst onto the popular scene in the 1960s and 1970s, when it became a familiar staple of counterculture behavior on college campuses. Introduced by the Maharishi Mahesh Yogi almost 50 years ago, it has since been adopted by 5 million people around the world.
It is also one of the most heavily studied of all forms of meditation. The National Institutes of Health have given researchers $20 million to study the effects of the technique on reducing high blood pressure and other risk factors for heart disease.
Vernon Barnes, a professor of physiology at the Medical College of Georgia, recently looked at the effect of TM on a group of teenagers at risk for hypertension. His research found that the practice led to a decrease in blood pressure, even during moments of stress.
In a separate study, Barnes also found that students who practiced TM had lower rates of absenteeism and tardiness and were less likely to break the rules and be suspended from school.
"It's not just some kooky thing," Barnes said yesterday. "It appears to have a beneficial effect on cardiovascular functioning in teenagers at risk for hypertension."
