Life Skills

One of my worries for children today is that as parents we do too much for them. We are so protective and indulgent that our kids are not developing character traits that will make them successful adults. 

I listened to author Paul Tough talk about his book How Children Succeed: Grit, Curiosity, and the Hidden Power of Character. Tough argues that qualities such as perseverance, self control, and curiosity are key to children's success in school and later in life. Similarly, author and psychologist Angela Duckworth writes about success being a combination of passion and perseverance. So as parents and educators, how do we help develop such characteristics in children? I'd say it starts early and it starts with backing off. 

Allowing children some freedom to explore, to ask questions, and try to solve problems is the process of inquiry. Young children have questions about everything. Sometimes we just want to give them the answers and move on. But what if we didn't answer their questions? What if we gave them just enough to follow their own interests and try to figure things out on their own? Would that lead to perseverance? Would that motivate and incite a passion to learn? 

Along with the inquiry process being useful in the discussion around success is the idea of risk. There are levels of risk involved with nearly everything we do. We, as adults, whether we know it or not, are constantly assessing potential risk in our environment. It's a survival instinct coded in our DNA. Think of Darwin, evolution, and natural selection over the course of biologic history. Our instinct is to survive and to be sure that our offspring survive.

It seems to me that we've gone way overboard with protecting our children when we schedule every moment of their days, constantly watch to anticipate their every need or possible misstep, keep them indoors and away from perceived danger, answer every question, and never let them take any risks at all. 

To illustrate what I consider acceptable risk and the inquiry process for young children, I share a piece I wrote for parents of one of my preschool classes. That preschool is set at a nature center and the example involves ice on a creek. It could just as well involve ice in a parking lot, near a storm sewer, or in an urban park.

Creek Ice and Risk

Our small group hikes at preschool offer a multitude of opportunities for young children to engage in inquiry and for teachers to observe and document what the children are learning. On a small group hike this winter, I spent time with five children as they suddenly veered off-trail and headed to the creek to look at the ice. On that day they noticed many changes and made a lot of observations around ice and water. Here are some of the things they noticed:

Child: This ice is safe – I hit it with my stick and it didn’t break.

Child: Look, there’s ice UNDER ice here.

Teacher: What does that look like, that shape in the ice?

Child: It looks like circles.

Child: Yeah, or bubbles.

Teacher: Yes! Air bubbles trapped in the ice. What happens if you poke at them with your sticks?

Children: They break! That ice isn’t so strong! Let’s call that bubble ice!

Child: The bubble ice is easy to break, and there’s more ice under it.

Child: This looks like a skating pond.

Child: The ice isn’t thick in places where it’s black. I can see water under there.

Teacher: Yes, when I jump on the ice, watch that black spot.

Child: The water moved when you jumped!

Child: Hey, there’s slush on top of the ice here.

Child: Look guys, more water!

Child: This ice looks like it can break because it’s dark.

Child: Look, there’s sticks here. Like a bridge.

The children spent about half an hour along the edges of the creek testing ice, breaking through weak spots with their sticks, and finding safe places to step on the ice and on branches to get to the other side. I think it’s important to note that for young children, the inquiry process doesn’t always start with a question they can verbalize. The process starts with curiosity, something they notice and want to explore. Sometimes they ask questions. Sometimes teachers ask questions to nudge them toward their own discoveries. Often children compare what they notice to something else, something familiar. In this instance the children learned about different states of water, solid and liquid. They learned that there are layers in ice. They learned about looking closely at the ice and testing it for safety. They learned that they can use their brains and their bodies to get themselves safely across the creek. What makes it all so meaningful is that I didn’t tell them any of that. I followed them to the creek, made sure they were staying safe while they explored, asked a few questions, and just let them learn. These children are well on their way to success.

Physical Challenges For Children in Nature

I wrote this post as a parent education piece a couple of years ago while I was teaching at a nature preschool. As today's weather in Minnesota oscillates between winter and spring, I think about the children navigating the ice, snow, and water out on the sidewalks. While the setting at the preschool I write about below isn't urban, certainly the physical challenges presented could be replicated in most any setting. Consider how your backyard, a neighborhood park, or an exploratory walk around the block could be used in gross motor development for your child, and how letting them take small risks can be good not only for their physical development, but for their confidence too.

Physical Challenges in Nature

Winter 2015

The natural terrain at our school provides children with physical challenges every day. Weather and the seasons continually change the environment. In this scenario, children do something that children everywhere do – they use their strength and balance to try to walk a straight line. Using the sandbox retaining timbers as a “tightrope,” children experiment with strategies for staying on the timbers and making it from one end of the sandbox to the other. They have walked these timbers many times, but today they are wearing boots and snow gear and the timbers are slippery and covered with snow.

One child (M) asks for help moving from logs to the timbers. She is given help at first. Others want to play this game. Soon we have many children testing their balance, trying out strategies such as putting their arms out, walking with slow, small steps, and asking each other for help. After walking with help, watching her peers, and the assurance that teachers are here to help if she needs it, M walks along the timbers by herself. “I did it!” 

We move our balance activity to another space just outside of the playground where the slack line is set up between trees. Here, children are about two feet off the ground and use a log as a step up to the

slack line.

Teacher: How is the slack line different from the timbers around the sandbox?

M: It’s the same because it’s really hard to do!

S: This one is more wobbly than the one at camp (another slack line). I can’t put my arms out like on the boards but I can hold onto the rope!

M: This is fun. I think I can do it myself!

Teachers always make sure children are safe, but encourage them to take small risks so that they can enjoy successes such as these.

Trees

I love trees. As a photographer, I am drawn to the beauty of trees - the stark curving winter branches, the textures of bark, the varied colors of leaves, the movement in wind, and the habitats they create for the many animals I like to photograph. As a nature preschool teacher, I spend a lot of time in the woods with children and watching them brings back some of my own childhood experiences. I've always loved trees. When I was a child I played at the roots of huge elm trees along our boulevard in St. Paul, before Dutch elm disease decimated the elms in the 1970s and 80s. Those trees, which formed a lush green tunnel down the block, had been places to play "house," watch birds and squirrels, observe ants and other insects on the bark, dig for worms and millipedes in the soil, and just sit and daydream.  I remember feeling so sad when I started seeing red rings painted on the trunks and later watching the trees come down.

These things were on my mind as I drove to a Master Naturalist class about Tree Biology. Geek alert... I learned some fascinating things about what makes a tree a tree, how trees grow, and how they survive winters. Here are a few snippets:

• The height a tree can grow is based on many factors including genetics (think of the differences in two dog breeds for example - a dachshund will never be as tall as a lab), environment (the amount of space and competition for light), and a tree's ability to move water through its system (pressure system from roots to leaves).
• In order to survive winter, trees begin a process of acclimation. In Minnesota, this usually begins in mid-July when light decreases and trees stop growing to prepare for winter. The growth process ceases and next year's buds are set at the ends of branches.
• Want to help your trees survive winter? Water them in the fall. Roots are not as cold hardy as the rest of the tree. At 15 degrees Fahrenheit, roots can die. If you water well into the fall, that water around the roots will freeze at 32 degrees and surround the roots. A thick layer of snow will act as an insulator. 
• Palm "trees" aren't really trees and are more closely related to grass. Heart of palm, a vegetable that many people enjoy, is the single growing bud of the palm. Harvesting it kills the palm.
• Trees do not grow from ground level up, but from the top. So if the lower-most branch is five feet from the ground, and the tree continues to grow taller, the lower-most branch will still be five feet from the ground in ten years.
• A gingko tree is biologically a conifer whose fruit is a fleshy (and stinky!) cone.
• A burl on a tree is caused by bacteria or fungus that get into a tree and cause the tree to create a lot of bud tissue in one spot. The fungus or bacteria then feeds on that tissue.
• City boulevard trees tend to grow bigger and faster than park trees, possibly because when rainwater hits hardscape (sidewalks, parking lots), it flows across that hardscape to the soil where trees are planted. Trees get all that water and have less competition.

One final bit that I found fascinating and can't stop thinking about... The molecular structures of hemoglobin and chlorophyll are incredibly similar. Hemoglobin moves oxygen through our blood, and chlorophyll, through photosynthesis, helps a tree absorb light and transfer energy through the tree. Both are crucial in getting nutrients through systems, human and tree. Hemoglobin, with iron at the center, gives us red blood. Chlorophyll, with magnesium at the center, gives trees green leaves. 

That got me thinking about my love for trees and the emotional connections I feel. When I look at trees, especially trees in winter that have lost their leaves, I often imagine human forms.

Darwin, of course, saw a myriad of connections. He used a tree as metaphor in his theory of evolution to show the relationships among organisms. His tree of life looked like this:

I am a big believer in the interconnectedness of everything. So when I take classes to learn more about particular subjects, I think about how that knowledge enriches my life. Today I'm considering connections with my preschoolers and their play (their cognitive, physical, and emotional development) on and around trees. Here is one of the many trees of life I see in my work:

Young children experience the world through their senses. They need to touch, see, hear, taste, and smell the world. This develops spatial sense. They manipulate the world through touch. They learn cause and effect. They create bonds with the natural world based on those experiences. When I take young children outside and watch them play in, on, and around trees, here are some of the things I notice:

• Trees become magical places of dramatic play. Children make forts, they play house, they turn a tree stump into a throne, they become characters in imaginary play, try out new roles, and experiment with their own power.
• Trees provide ample opportunities for physical challenges and growth. Moving your body across a fallen tree trunk implores a child to take risks, learn balance, improve strength, and deal with different heights.
• Sticks. I could write a book on stick play. Many adults shy away from allowing children to play with sticks because of the potential danger. Yes, sticks can cause injuries. The tips can be sharp. Play can turn aggressive (think swords and light sabers). But I've learned not to assume that a stick is being used as a weapon. Sometimes they're being used as tools (drill, lever, walking stick, measuring stick). Often when I ask children what their stick is, I find out it's a magic wand, a giant pencil, a unicorn horn. Even play with sticks as "weapons" is ok with me as long as we've set some ground rules: You have to ask the other child if they want to play a fighting game. You have to keep enough space between your bodies so the sticks don't actually touch (use your voice for sound effects). The stick has to be a length you can control (waist high at most). You have to be in a space where others aren't going to get hit when you swing your stick. This allows children to play out those good versus evil games that they love, in a way that minimizes risk.
• Trees are places for scientific inquiry. Think of all the things you can discover by turning over a log, or comparing different kinds of leaves, or watching squirrels chase each other around the trunk of a tree. Children are mesmerized by all of the life in and around trees. They learn so much by observing insects, worms, mushrooms, and birds. They notice details. They ask a ton of questions. They are motivated to find out more.
• Then there is the solace of being in wild places. Yes, wild places exist even in urban spaces. Even at the nature center where I work, we can see and hear cars, airplanes, and other signs of our proximity to urban life. That is one of the incredible gifts of trees. I think of the boulevard trees I played near as a child. I could completely tune out the street noise and transport myself to another place in my mind. Children do this all the time. I often see a child sitting beneath a tree, lying across a log, staring up into the sky. They look so peaceful, so calm, so happy. That is what trees can do for us, even as adults, when we take the time beneath a tree to just be. 

Go ahead. Take a walk. Find a tree. Give it a hug if you want to. I guarantee it will make your day better.

"Your work with children in nature is sacred."

Wow, it's been a long time since I've written a blog post. A lot has changed in the two and a half years since my last post. My commitment to working with children in nature has not. If anything, the last two years have given me more experience, a broader perspective, and a deeper appreciation for the work of the early childhood teacher with nature as the classroom.

I work for Dodge Nature Preschool, in West Saint Paul, MN. The preschool is located on the grounds of Dodge Nature Center, which is celebrating its 50th anniversary this year. We recently hosted an evening with Richard Louv at the Fitzgerald Theater in St. Paul, during which a great conversation unfolded about the value of nature in the lives of children. If you are not familiar with Louv's work, he coined the phrase "nature deficit disorder" in his book Last Child in the Woods. Since its publication in 2008, we've seen a movement driven by educators, researchers and parents to bring the importance of nature to the table, to advocate for nature in schools, in the workplace, in healthcare, housing, and more.

If you're reading this blog, chances are you already understand the value of nature for healthy individuals and communities. Here are some of the things I took away from the conversation that evening, some ideas I'm still pondering and trying to figure out how to expand on in my own work.

• Regarding the importance of getting children outside early in life... Truly, parents often end up rediscovering the wonder of the natural world right alongside their children. It happened for me. Shortly after my daughter was born, I put my teaching career on hold to be home with her. The days can feel incredibly long when you're a stay at home parent. Getting outside was crucial for my own mental health as well as for her development. The fresh air, the change of scenery, something about just walking around the block to clear our minds and lift our spirits was the antidote to many tough moments. Even better, the more we were outside the more we wanted to be outside. Everything was new and wondrous to my toddler - every rock held the potential of exciting new discoveries beneath it. Every new sensory experience was magical. It was those tough but precious years that drove me back to school to earn a Master's degree in Environmental Education.
• "Nature teaches compassion, hope, and acceptance." One spring my daughter found a robin's egg on the ground. Whole, beautiful, blue, delicate. She was sure that if she brought it home, placed it under a warm blanket, and watched over it that it would eventually hatch. Of course it didn't and that was a hard lesson for her. But in the process of trying to hatch the egg, she learned about life, death, empathy for other beings, care for another, to hope, to try, and to accept that sometimes there were things she could not explain or change. 
• Everything is connected. We are not alone. We need other species. Consider this study from the United Kingdom. Researchers found that city parks with higher biodiversity actually have a larger positive impact on mental health than parks where there is less diversity of species. Kind of makes sense. Being surrounded by more forms of life means a healthier ecosystem, of which humans are a part. We know that monocultures are not a good thing. The emerald ash borer epidemic in Saint Paul is a perfect example. Plant a large portion of your city boulevards with the same tree and when an insect specific to that tree starts to kill them, you've got no trees left.
• Cities can become engines of biodiversity. Think of rooftop gardens, inner city parks, pollinator gardens, and schoolyard gardens. When you plant a garden or protect green space in a city you create habitat for species other than human. And having those species around is important not only because they have a right to exist, but also for human well-being.
• In terms of nature being beneficial to child development, here's an interesting, and alarming, finding: Spatial sense atrophies in children who don't spend time outside. Do we want to raise children who are so dependent on technology that they can't navigate in the real world without it? Check out The Geography of Childhood: Why Children Need Wild Places, by Gary Paul Nathan and Stephen Trimble.
• "Your work with children is sacred" (Richard Louv, 2/9/17). It isn't often that we speak of the sacred in public discourse. We seem hesitant to talk about spirituality because it gets mucked up by religion. But this isn't about a particular faith. Yes, the word sacred is used in reference to worship or religion, but it is also defined as "something highly valued and important." So what nurtures the spirit? What can we do in our work with young children that is deserving of the label sacred? To me as a teacher and parent, it is taking children outside and letting them lead, watching them discover, explore, and observe, helping them test boundaries and take risks, encouraging them to ask questions and make connections. That truly is sacred work. And it is an honor to be part of it.

"Did you know there's such a thing as Nature Deprivation Syndrome?"

"Did you know there's such a thing as Nature Deprivation Syndrome?" That's how our conversation began. I was working in one of my boulevard gardens today and a man approached me with a smile and compliments about my garden. He asked me if I knew about this syndrome (It's actually called nature deficit disorder, and is not a medical term, but rather one coined in Richard Louv's book, Last Child in the Woods). He went on to tell me how city kids, in particular, suffer because they don't get to experience things like this - he pointed at the sunflowers, coneflowers, and prairie sage, among other things, growing nearby. We talked a little bit about children and nature, as I explained that I am a preschool teacher at an area nature center. His face lit up and he said, "So you get them when they're really young, and you get to take them outside?" Yes. Exactly.

Boulevard gardens

We know that one of the key factors for adults who love and protect the natural world is having had positive experiences in nature as children. So getting children outside when they are very young and giving them access and freedom to explore and enjoy nature - plants, insects and other animals, dirt, rocks, and elements of weather - is crucial.

Front yard bird feeder

Now what about those city kids? Nature is everywhere, even in the city. One way I make nature available to children in my city, to people of every age really, is through my gardens. I have planted nearly every square inch of our tiny city lot. Front yard, back yard, boulevards, and alley. There are gardens in the ground, in planters, pots, bags, tires, boxes, plants climbing walls and porches, and plants in raised beds. I grow edibles, native perennials, annuals, trees and shrubs. My daughter has her own raised bed in our front yard. Just this year we took out our last remaining bit of turf grass and replaced it with native grasses and wildflowers. We provide habitat for butterflies, birds, bees, squirrels, rabbits, voles and mice, the occasional toad, dragonflies, raptors, worms, slugs, and countless other invertebrates and mammals. And because my daughter is outside all the time, and has been nearly her whole life, she knows every hiding place for every animal. She knows, from observing, what they eat, what type of habitat they require, and how (if appropriate) to safely handle them.

Boulevard garden

I've talked to many people who walk past my house and smile when they look at the gardens. I can see the delight when someone watches a butterfly on a milkweed plant or sees a goldfinch eating seeds from the flower of a cup plant. Gardens make people happy. I suspect some of that happiness comes from the sensory nature in gardens - the colors, scents, textures, the beauty in nature. Gardens remind us of the wonder, joy, and diversity in the natural world. But I think gardens also remind us that there are powers greater than ourselves, that while we can plant things and meticulously try to maintain them a certain way, there is a wildness out there that we can't tame. In my opinion, that's a good thing.

Planters filled with kale, amaranth and dill

So yes, I do know about "nature deprivation syndrome." And I am doing my best to combat it in my little corner of the world. One garden at a time.

Raised bed on boulevard,
planted with beans and squash

Anything can become a planter! These hold sunflowers,
okra, and cosmos. In the alley garden.

"Frogs Are My Life!"

This morning I had the privilege of taking a small group of preschool-aged children for a nature hike. They were excited to show me all of their favorite places on the grounds of the nature center. We started out at a brisk pace, that energy and excitement barely contained. We had a destination in mind, but along the way there were SO many things to stop and examine.

Children are great collectors. We often find sticks, rocks, feathers, pinecones, and other random objects in pockets, bags, and the washing machine. They love to pick things up, carry them, show them to other people, and tuck them safely away in a pocket. On our hike this morning, the children showed me black cap raspberries, burdock, feathers, snails, slugs, and toads.

The toads were especially exciting. In a grassy path, lined with jewelweed and burdock on either side, we found dozens of small toads jumping in front of our feet. The children were quite adept at spotting and catching the tiny creatures. I have to admit that I get nervous when children catch animals. I am always worried about harm to a living being. It's a fine line to walk - balancing a child's desire to learn, and need to touch, with the well-being of a much smaller creature. They were incredibly gentle with the toads and wanted to take them all the way back to school to show their classmates. After a long discussion about what would be best for the toads, we decided to carry them just a short distance to one of their favorite places in the woods and release them there. They reasoned that the habitat was similar and they would be safer in the woods than back in the classroom. The toads, which they insisted on calling "frogs," fared well. They all made it to Tipi Hill, cradled gently in small palms. As the children opened their cupped hands and the toads jumped back out into the world, one child squealed with delight. She stretched both arms to the sky, looked up into the canopy of trees, and exclaimed, "Frogs are my life!"

Indeed, in that moment "frogs" were at the center of everyone's life. It was a wonderful reminder of the power of nature in the lives of children. And why we can't be afraid to let them touch, explore, question, and seek with limited interference. That morning the children experienced freedom, connectedness with their environment, the care of living creatures, patience, confidence, negotiation, the ethics of removing an animal from its habitat, and the sheer joy of discovery. And we only used two band-aids.

The good news for urban-dwellers is you don't need to be at a nature center or deep in the woods for children to have experiences like these. Let them explore the backyard, the schoolyard, a nearby park, an alley, a lawn, or even a sidewalk crack. They will find living creatures. And who knows, your child might joyfully exclaim, "Ants are my life!"

Some nature books in urban settings:
Hey Little Ant, by Phillip and Hannah Hoose
Ladybug Girl and Bumblebee Boy, by Jacky David
The Curious Garden, by Peter Brown