ABSTRACT
Picture a scene on a chilly December morning when winter mists hang low over the horizon, embracing the trees in the distant parkland. The grass glittering with the morning frost and the colours of the gathered leaves beneath our feet seem richer against nature’s new palate. As the children explore, their attention is drawn to a frozen puddle; its contents now incarcerated in the ice. This impromptu stop provides new opportunities for discussions, debates and problem solving. How to dig out the acorn trapped within the ice and ‘Would it still be alive?’ ‘Would it still be able to grow into a tree?’ One child is puzzled. Another child climbs confidently onto some overturned logs to survey the group from a height. As he climbs he seems aware of the need to take extra care, demonstrating past knowledge of the effects a thin layer of ice can have on his favourite climbing logs. In this ever-changing natural terrain he adjusts his balance using his whole body and negotiates slowly, carefully considering where to place his next step. As another child approaches he enters into a conversation about not slipping, evidence that he understands staying safe; and demonstrating both his understanding, confidence and communication skills. These regular experiences built up over weeks using the same environment provide these children not only with rich learning opportunities to stretch and extend their capabilities, but interest, motivation and challenge to want to move their bodies and be active. As Tim Gill eloquently describes:
The role of Forest Schools in children’s physical development has unquestionable long-term positive health implications. The Lancet Medical Journal
recently published data that suggested: ‘the UK has one of the world’s least physically active populations’. The report continued with the warning that the consequences of this inactivity would be responsible for ‘as many deaths worldwide as smoking and obesity’.3 The paper claims that exercise ‘has been called a miracle drug that can benefit every part of the body and substantially extend lifespan’.4 Additionally, the outdoor environment itself can be a useful formative evaluation tool for practitioners in understanding and assessing a child’s skills and abilities, and in recognising physical changes over time. In a study ‘Childhood and Nature’ commissioned by Natural England in 2009, evidence suggested ‘children spend less time playing in natural places, such as woodlands, countryside and heaths than they did in previous generations. Less than 10% play in such places compared to 40% of adults when they were young’. Interestingly, 81 per cent of children said that they would like more freedom to play outside.5 In addition to concerns relating to physical health, evidence seems to indicate that as a nation we appear to be following in the footsteps of America with a second generation of children suffering from ‘nature deficit disorder’. This term was coined by Richard Louv to describe the damage he believed was caused to children who never experienced the natural world. It’s crucial, he argues, not to shield them from adventures in the great outdoors and the connections these bring to the natural world. In his bestselling book, Last Child in the Woods, Richard Louv convincingly debates this concept:
Many practitioners cite health and safety concerns limiting the opportunities available; however in the twenty-first century it seems more young children are admitted to British hospitals for injuries sustained falling out of bed than out of trees. ‘Broken bones,’ Louv reminds us, ‘used to be a rite of passage for children. Now all paediatricians see are cases of obesity and repetitive strain injury.’ While ‘nature deficit disorder’ is not an accepted medical condition, it has been linked to increased rates of ADHD and mental health difficulties in children. It is thought that children are missing out on the pure delight that comes from daily experiences in the natural world; and, as a result, grow into adults that lack an understanding of the importance of nature to human society. Other substantial evidence suggests that as human beings we have an inborn need for connections with nature: a notion known as ‘biophilia’. Initially defined by the psychologist Erich Fromm, it was later popularised by biologist Edward Wilson,7 who discussed humans’ primal urge to connect with nature. So what can practitioners working in early years education do to combat the joint concerns related to inactivity and nature deficit disorder, in order for young children to fully develop, test their bodies physically, build stamina and discover
the natural world for themselves? Many settings may suggest they are not equipped or have no access to natural outdoor spaces, but I have always found that when the motivation is there, settings think in more creative ways, opening up new opportunities for the children and families they support. Importantly there is now a great deal of agreement on this issue both politically and socially with politicians, parents, teachers, doctors, social workers, journalists and the children themselves supporting change. All seem ‘united in their belief that children would benefit from greater freedom to explore outdoors’.8 A clear message from the latest Good Childhood Report suggests children are happier when given freedom, autonomy and choice, all aspects closely linked to both the EYFS and the Forest School principles. ‘Children need agency, and real experiences to connect them to their local community; this responsibility and trust leads to a more contented, meaningful life’.9 Consider here Piaget’s basic theory in relation to learning; as human beings we are all continually adapting to our environment. But importantly, he maintained that knowledge could not simply be transmitted from one person to another’ it must be constructed or invented through our own action.10
