water – Woods & Wetlands

This is the best camp ever! I wish I wouldn’t get older and not be able to do it again!

What if you had tree branches growing out of your ear holes?

We used our pocket microscope to look up close at this rock she found.

Summer Woods and Wetlands Camp at Camp Rockford has begun! Our first group has only been with us three days and already there is a definite sense of bonding between all of us. Already these kids have filled my heart and gained my trust. It may be 90+°F out where the paved and treeless places swelter in the sun, but we are right where our bodies are adapted to be, playing and learning in the deep shade of oaks, maples, and hickories, as well as wading around through the cold, flowing water of a local creek. We watch slimy slugs staying cool tucked into the grooves of wet oak bark, while toads abound in the soft, dark leaf litter and rich forest soil.

Day 1 we went over a lot of safety info and then explored the creek. We introduced the journals toward the end of our morning and were pleasantly surprised by how well the kids took to them this time. Of course, each group and individual differs, but my theory is that starting out with journals last year felt too much like school, hence, more resistance. This time the kids welcomed a chance, after exploring, to plop down, tired but happy, and draw and/or write about what they experienced. I also have the benefit of having read more of Anna Botsford Comstock’s, Handbook of Nature Study, in which she states her observation that, “The child might rather never had this experience than be forced to write about it.” Instead, she encouraged students to write about it only “because I am curious to know what you discovered,” and only if they wanted to. I was very struck by this! It seems wise to me and fits with my philosophy about the importance of nature-play-based learning to build a sense of love, connection, and ownership with nature on Earth that may later lead to more reading, writing, and more formal study of the natural world.

Of course it also makes perfect sense that it is silly to ask someone to write BEFORE they have the experience! Especially when those “someones” are still so new to written communication, when their verbal expression is still developing. And, as I told my students’ parents each year on Curriculum Night, the only way children will be able to make connections to what they read, or to even HAVE something to write about, is if they are having real life experiences! On-screen experiences happen on a screen, but we know that children’s bodies are what they use for real learning. If it is in the body, it is in the brain.

Day 1 also included the standing sensory exploration I began implementing in the spring with all of the classroom programs I did. On Day 2 we introduced Brain Gym and mindful breathing. When we focus on and are aware of our breath, we cannot help but be present in the moment. I recently learned a new breath-work technique that has significantly improved my own anxiety, and I now teach it to children to use for calming themselves as needed. It felt so amazing to observe these kids who I only just met on Monday, trusting me to guide them through trying some bizarre, new, movements and breathing strategies! I simply explained that the movements help the two sides of their brains work together better, and the breath helps us notice how we are feeling on the inside. What I did not say is, with near-constant external stimulation of today’s world of technology, it takes intention to remember to check in with our bodies. As a culture, we are losing touch with being able to feel/notice our own sensations and to recognize and name them. How can we trust and hear our bodies and minds if we never stop the busy-ness and put away the screens in order to turn inward now and then throughout our day?

When I got home after camp today, I noticed a note I had made to myself earlier this morning. It said, “greeting with info about what they Know, Notice, or Wonder about a nature treasure.” My initial thought when I spotted the note was, “Darn! I forgot to do that!” Then I paused and laughed at myself. Any teacher of my generation will know I was plugged into the old, “KWL,” strategy. It has morphed into any number of different permutations over the years, but the point of it is essentially the same. But what struck me as funny today was it hit me that when children are engaged in learning through nature play, no one needs to prompt them to ask questions, share observations, or tell about what they already know. Because it is their nature to do all of these things on their own! In fact, a teacher would be lucky to get a word in edgewise between the questions, stories, and exclamations!

Our Morning Meeting is held beneath the shady arms of a single tree in a tamed expanse of mowed grass. Today the tree was raining seeds down upon us, which precipitated a mini lesson about how seeds that land in places where humans have stifled or destroyed the natural order of life, death, decomposition, soil, and new growth, cannot grow to make new trees. We began imagining aloud what if the seeds landing upon us took root and we grew trees out of our heads!? Always open to silliness, our imaginings expanded. The kids had us all laughing over the idea of acorns for eyes and branches growing from our noses or ears. As I reflect on this now, I see an analogy. Too often we adults get in the way of children’s natural interests and learning abilities. We have good intentions, like mowing under a tree, but maybe we need to get out of the way a bit more. Mow a lot less. Let the kids’ “seeds” land where they will, and grow in a place we have not prepared for them, and in ways that work for each individual. Let learning be organic and messy. Follow their lead and offer enrichment when needed, but step back too. When we force every seed to land in the same place, a place we have interfered with so much that nothing can grow there except grass that is never allowed to flower and drop its own seeds, there will be little to learn in that monotonous place. Our children grow rich in mind, body, and spirit when they are surrounded by diverse, natural, spaces where their seeds can all take root.

It was so good to see everyone dressed just perfectly for the chilly, fall afternoon yesterday. Nevertheless, getting a boot full of swamp water on a 40 degree day is quite different from an 80 degree, June day. I notice the kids nearly always have a hard time with this the first time it happens but they tend to toughen up and take it well if it happens again. In fact, I heard one of the first grade boys echo my own words when he slipped and ended up with a wet foot, “Well… it happens.” Yes, it does. Very philosophical!

I was smiling because I had just had a short conversation with some girls as we were wondering if anyone had fallen in yet. G. had smiled and said, dryly, “Someone always falls in!” I pondered aloud what we would do if one of these days no one did. I jokingly concluded that we would simply have to push someone in! The girls laughed and we went on our way, balancing on mossy logs through the cold water.

C. was wondering what the tube under the path was for and I showed her how it allows water to flow under instead of over when the water rises. We found 3 places where the water had gone over and through, eroding the soil and collapsing the path. S. used a stick to pole vault herself over these narrow waterways. It was a perfect situation for observing the power of water and how it can affect soil where tree roots do not hold it in place.

As I reflect on our conversations and observations I am always pleased to notice ways that the kids just naturally engage in mathematical and scientific thinking. For another example, on our way to Grandfather Oak someone noticed a portion of a dead tree that was held up off the ground by another tree in which it was trapped toward the top. I encouraged everyone to stop and try to use clues nearby to piece together what might have happened to cause what they were seeing. I wish I could relay the entire complex of conversation that went on for the next 10 minutes or so. They grasped onto my question and I began hearing them take turns telling each other and me what they noticed such as, “Look! I think this chunk of tree trunk on the ground matches up right here with the part of the tree that’s still hanging up.” and, “This end of that chunk is smooth! Someone must have chopped it down somewhere!” and, “Here’s a stump. Maybe it came from this.” (Guiding question from me: “But is the size of that stump right? Is it the same size as the base of that tree?”) “No! It’s not. It’s too small… Here’s one! This one matches!” and, “I agree with C.” and, “I think that tree fell onto the other one first and then someone chopped it out of the way and then it fell apart over here…” etc. These are the kinds of conversations and investigations we have been trying to facilitate in our classrooms and here they are happening with almost no effort on my part after school in the woods. This one could have been extended in so many ways.

If kids conduct a scientific or mathematical inquiry about a tree that fell in the woods and no administrators are there to hear it and no tests are there to evaluate it, did it still, “make a sound??” Yes, and it was a beautiful sound. The valuable, memorable, happy sound of kids learning naturally.