Years of developing the dream of offering nature immersion learning to our community's youngest students has paid off. We are so excited to open the doors to a school where a world of hands-on, play-based education will help children develop their sense of place while honing the multidisciplinary skills that prepare them for a life of learning.
This week's guest post is from Ximena Puig, KVR Instructor and Kickapoo Valley Forest School founding member. She writes of the conscious effort she takes in guiding her children to explore eagerly and wisely in the woods and how that pays off for them in huge developmental ways!
My mother, two young sons and I walk down into the woods, on a spring day. Along the way we see Jack-in-the-pulpit, and when we reach the valley we cross a shallow stream where water spiders dance, small watery shadows dart, and rocks await our admiration. There is the smell of rotting leaves, damp wood and new spring growth. These are the woods I played in every day as a child, picking berries, walking across fallen logs and creating worlds with my sister and any friend who might be visiting. Now my little boys are pushing through the briars and splashing through the creek.
We come to a place where a great big oak tree has fallen. Her root end is still up on the taller of the two creek banks, though now her roots fan out towards the sky, and her branches lie on the forest floor on the other lower side, while her thick trunk makes a wonderful, tall bridge. Right away the boys start climbing, each finding just the place to test and practice his skills. The three year old climbs up and down a thick branch over and over, narrating his every move: “Now I put my foot over here. Now I grab this branch. Now I am going down again.” The five year old goes right for the main trunk, walking as far as he feels comfortable, then expressing his fear and wanting a hand to retrace his steps. On his first attempt he cries a little as he climbs back down, but no sooner are his feet on the ground, then he is going up again, and this time he makes it all the way to the middle of the trunk reaching over the creek before he turns around. On his third try he crosses the whole bridge, some 10 ft. above the creek and climbs down on the upper bank radiant with accomplishment. It is all his. My job was to believe that he could, to stand near by and give him the space to do it, without admonishing him to be careful or telling him not to be scared, all while pretending to not pay much attention. He had to make his own way to meet the challenge, and the challenge and thrill of stretching his skills was what kept him going back even when he was a little scared.
This is what children are supposed to do. This is how they grow
and learn. When you think about the long history of human development,
schooling and scheduled activities as we know them today, are a really small
sliver of what childhood has been about. Evolutionarily, children have been
programmed to learn through observation and imitation of their parents doing
meaningful tasks and through exploration and play in natural environments.
Stretching their skills and challenging themselves physically is in their
genes. It is how a baby is motivated to learn to crawl and then walk and then
run. The multi-sensory nature of the natural world, and the inner drive to
explore it, is the teacher your young child needs. My five year old boy was
feeling the rough bark of the oak under his fingers, the wind and black flies
on face and neck. He was listening to the birds singing and noting the
commotion the dog made crashing around in the ferns. He was using his legs to
defy gravity as he climbed the slope of the trunk and his inner ears to balance
himself. His young elastic brain was organizing and balancing all this sensory
stimulation as he worked to stay focused on his desire to cross the tree trunk
bridge. On the way back up the hill for lunch there was an extra spring in his
step and pride in his shoulders. And
stored deep inside him was the experience and thrill of meeting a challenge and
the connections and passages his brain made to allow him to do it. The forest
had proved a good teacher and he a willing and excited student. All I needed to
do was take him to the woods and be near by.
Something I hope will come of this time when so many scheduled activities have been canceled is more time for undirected, outdoor exploration. Open, unscheduled time, even boredom, can lead children deep into themselves, to experiences and challenges and fun that will make lasting impressions and teach deep lessons. When surveyed about moments and places where they felt at home and held, almost all adults cite a secret outdoor place that they went as children. I hope that this summer there will be more children in the woods, listening to the birds and the wind and their hearts and bodies, and making lasting passageways in their brains that lead them to know themselves and their outdoor spaces better.
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