growing together

The streetlights cast long shadows across our “main” street on the evening of the Winter Solstice. It was such a special evening.

Outdoor schools and nature schools — those perceptions are also shaped by stakeholders, advocates, the media, books, and organizations to be quite specific. Look up nature schools and you will see children following trails, in meadows, under a tree canopy, walking in streams in public or private land. The landscapes are large and wide. You will also learn of the benefits offered by outdoor schools.

This is not us.

Listen and learn. “Maybe they forgot their bag,” a child observes in answer to finding yet another pile of dog poop on the lawn where we are playing. This willingness to see a global kindness in others is something often gets lost as we grow older. So now we just bring bags with us to help where we can.

Each day and every class session, all of us, children and adults, look up at the sky, studying each corner. The children have developed a shared language of SKY.

As many early childhood programs across Maryland moved outdoors and our own program moved fully outdoors, we all soon discovered that there actually is such thing as bad weather. The answer, of course, is planning and figuring out how we begin our day in response to ANY kind of weather. In this case, we have something we call “grandmother magic” in crochet blankets and Teresa, our Seeds class teacher, a good bit of Tia magic.

The year winds down. Only a few weeks, a handful of days, left. I’m specifically not counting , but this year’s Tracks class is keeping count in a way that others haven’t. “Is this the last day I play the rhythm,” one asks. I force myself to think. Ada answers, though. She seems better equipped to think of the bittersweet in the beginning/endings, thankfully.

Wonder and awe. These are gifts that will stand for us. They are the things that will bring us comfort and settle us during times we feel stuck and at a loss for how to proceed.

Hands too small to even begin to hold a pencil or pen, delicately pinch tiny bits of sand, measured in grains. Fingers of one hand seek out bits of tiny colored gravel and pebbles, picking these up just so, to collect as treasures in the palm of the other. Sitting at a table and holding pencil will never match time spent “cooking” sand.

I know the power of story, coming and going. The following week, he told me that whenever he is worried he just picks up a worry stone and it takes care of itself. He told me this with the knowledge and skill that this was his very own story. I didn’t tell it, he did.

It happens too many days a week to count; a mother, having just brushed aside a loose piece of their child's hair, weighted down by discarded backpacks, holding animal leashes or items for dinner or tiny colorful rainboots will smile and confide "I'm a bad mom".

Yes, yes, emergent learning took us to the bridge to learn about its great height, its arches, and where it can be found in relation to where we are. We found all that, but let me tell you about the moment that will stay with these children.

String is something that adults attach to boats. And why? We have to be honest with ourselves here — is it because we think the string secures us? Protects us from losing something too precious to let go of? Not just the thing, but the little hand holding it? Is the string a tether that keeps childhood intact? The happiness of never losing a thing? No tears today! There’s this string that will hold us together!

Today it rained. People wonder about the rain. Summer and Fall rain is one thing, but today it was a Winter rain. Today, I told the children as they arrived bundled up and rain resistant ready, today is a 100% rain. It wasn’t going to stop.

Where are we going? Outside! We believe that access to nature should be the right of every child, but in truth, every child cannot access nature.

The edges of the street and sidewalk read like urban nature headlines. Big, bold print calls our attention to all the stories happening in the neighborhood.

I am interested in play patterns and in story. I am especially interested in helping ALL children access play with peers. This year, I added storyboarding to our practice. This increased interest in mark-making while it also expanded children’s connections to peers.

Play outside. Especially when it rains.

Welcome to one of our Saturday morning coffees. Attendees asked for a follow-up and I thought it would be nice to share the follow-up through this blog for them and then if you didn’t get to attend (because of course you are always invited) you can get an idea about what to expect. You can find the whole schedule <here> which includes a link to register.

A recent discussion on a teacher forum around the question, “Do let children bring toys from home?” reminded me of this post we shared in 2014.

Remember summer days? Remember when there was nothing to do and also not enough time to finish doing nothing? Read books, watch leaves float down a stream, throw rocks, collect rocks, build houses and stores, or just sit and talk? So much nothing to do each day.

The class journal, “The Forever Story” is amazing from the first page to the last. It’s so interesting to read how the children embraced this method of collective story telling and offered their own, unique and lovely additions to a story that goes on forever.

We travel light to city and forest, but we aren’t really traveling light, are we? We bring our own play histories with us and we share these with the children. We help them find ingredients for potions, sticks for fairy houses, leaves for letters and packages. We gift them with story and imagination.

Some of the children will grow up to be artists. And all of them, every single one, will know how to solve a problem, how to climb out on a limb, how to take a risk with expressing ideas in a visual medium to connect with other humans whether they are the artist expressing it or they are the viewer enjoying it.

I was good and stuck on the kale idea. Obviously.

“No. I think it’s called arugula? Yes, that’s it. Arugula,” the mud kitchen in the teepee was again open for business, “We have arugula now!”

“That’s right,” he added, reassuring all who would listen. “The honey bee drone doesn’t know. It’s only 19% cold. To the drone. Only 19% cold.”

The children had to get back to what needed to be done. They needed to continue playing and could n’t stop to untangle the sudden appearance of a bee.

At some point, drawing gets a socially-constructed connection with artistic ability and expression. At about the ages of 7 or 8, children will begin to sort themselves into those “good at art” and those “not good at art.” An underlying theme is the inability to draw and drawing. This is carried into adulthood and muddies adults’ impressions about how to support this form of communication.

If Margaret Sutphen could write a poem when she was seven that so many of us now know, then of course these children talking about and learning from her poem can and will write their own!

Three children had been stung by yellow jackets. The stings had not happened at school, but the memories and the desire to not be stung again ruled the day(s). Play and story came to the rescue.