Tales From the Trails

Thursday, July 9, 2020

Four Factors of Responsible Nature Play

As seen in the summer edition of Playground Professionals magazine, here is my take on nature play.

Four Factors of Responsible Nature Play

By Peter Dargatz

The sounds of children playing filled the air. Besides an occasional trip home for a snack or bathroom break,
their entire day was spent outside. Climbing trees. Catching critters. Living life. And without an adult in sight.
Adults often look back on these days of nature play as some of the best days of their lives.

Sadly, those days of nature play are few and far between for most of today's generation. Many questions exist.
Who is to blame for the loss of these opportunities? Is it our reliance (and often over reliance) to be constantly
entertained through some type of screen? Are adult caregivers worried about the appearance of looking
apathetic or irresponsible when it comes to supervising their children? Is “unstructured” a scary term? Does the
fear of litigation, a loss of control, or societal dangers (perceived or legitimate) hold play back? Have these days
of nature play disappeared forever? Is there any way to bring them back in the world we live today?

In a word. Yes. Under one condition.

Let the kids lead.

But how? Put away the bubble wrap. Provide clear expectations. Let the children explore, get dirty, and take
risks. We survived. They will too. In fact, taking away the opportunity to lead nature play and experience nature is
stunting children’s creativity, hindering their problem-solving capabilities, and ignoring necessary skills important
to their physical, social, and emotional development.

Responsible nature play provides countless benefits. But before jumping into some serious nature play, four
factors need to be considered.

“Unstructured” Fallacy

The word ”unstructured” is misleading. Nature play is not uncontrollable chaos. In fact, it is quite the opposite.
When led by children, nature play has intense flexibility and organization, even though the untrained adult eye
might initially see it as a free for all. Rather than use the erroneous term of “unstructured,” try emergent or
child-led. A tweak in terminology can go a long way. Similar to scaffolding in a traditional classroom, parents can
experience nature play right alongside their children. As a child becomes more experienced with their
environment, the adults will be able to lead less and observe more. Eventually, a child with an array of nature
play experiences will earn the trust of their caregiver and should be given the freedom and right to be the
director of their own play. Observant adults will appreciate the structure that exists in “unstructured” play.

Risk vs. Hazard

Ticks and sticks, two words that cause serious adult anxiety. Risky? Sure. But true nature play requires risk.
Children need risk and thrive when given the opportunity to experience it. Their ability to assess risk only grows
and gains credibility when nurtured and practiced as independently as possible. Even then, a child’s self
assessment skills involving risk are vastly underrated. Adults feel the need to protect our children. Even with the
best intentions, adults paving the way for every move their child makes does not equate to protecting them. It’s
impossible (and irresponsible) to eliminate every risk for children. Hazards, however, need to be discovered and
removed. Understanding the difference between risk and hazards and developing that understanding with
children is an imperative.

Missed Opportunities

Dirt. Water. Weather. I call these the three misrepresented elements of nature play. Unfortunately, while
attempting to be proactive problem-solvers, adults may inhibit the magic of nature play by purposely avoiding
these elements. Avoidance is not nearly as beneficial as preparedness. Kids like getting dirty and believe it or
not, dirt and mud offer health benefits. Remember, dirt doesn't hurt. Water play can be risky. This is a prime
example of understanding the difference between risk and hazard. If only a risk, get wet because it's a scientific
fact that water will dry. Playing in perfect weather is ideal, but being engaged in nature play in all that weather
encourages new perspectives and instills appreciation of everything nature offers us. There is no such thing as
bad weather, only bad clothing.

To Pick or Not To Pick

Nature play doesn't need to always follow a straight line. Kids (and adults) like to go off trail and explore.
Obviously, when playing in a space outside of one’s own yard, the expectations of that location should be
respected. However, when able, experiencing nature off trail allows for new sensory experiences that bring play
to the next level. Kids love picking flowers. They treasure trailblazing. They enjoy experimenting with a branch’s
dexterity. Going off trail is memorable and meaningful, but it is also controversial. Do the risks of going off trail
outweigh the benefits? Are there hazards? Is the area in question ecologically vulnerable? Will the actions and
activities associated with going off trail leave lasting ecological impacts on the land? With some common sense
and some basic education about respect for the environment, going off trail is an excellent element in responsible
nature play.

Responsible nature play is not simply opening the door and sending children outside until the street lights come
back on, but it is a collaborative effort between children and adults. Mountains of research prove that there should
be no debate on the value of nature play in healthy whole child development. In presentations, I often refer to
nature play as play on steroids. It takes the positive benefits of play to the next level.

When these four factors are understood, practiced, and practiced again, children will once again be trusted to
climb trees, catch critters, and live life under the guidance of Mother Nature and their own imaginations.

Teach Off Trail

I am so excited to announce that my book, tentatively titled Teach Off Trail, will be published by Redleaf Press at a time to be determined. This book will encapsulate my educator evolution and detail how I incorporated my 4 P's philosophy to create and coordinate a nature kindergarten program in my public school.

Here's a little preview.

Markers and glue sticks are strewn across the floor. A cardboard box has been transformed into a jetpack, paper towel roll rocket boosters and all. Pieces of felt and clippings from old magazines have been collected and attached to various projects, each serving their own very important purpose. Minutes before, celebratory applause amongst hoots and hollers echoed throughout the room as the Math Championship belt changed hands. A couple of incomplete puzzles and loose pieces cover the counter. The drying rack is overflowing with coffee filter turkeys, bingo dauber trees, and marker cap pattern trains. A quick scan around the rest of the room shows a swimming pool of stuffed animals, a bookshelf of nature artifacts, a large storage tub of baseball cards, and a menagerie of dress up clothes and housekeeping items. Anything and everything you can imagine can be found throughout this classroom. Except students.

Where are they?

A quick look out the window and the mystery is solved. A few students scale the fallen tree. A few more check in and make changes to their mouse houses. Still others are using sticks to make dirt drawings. A pair near the rock pile add bark pieces and dried leaves to their stew. A couple more hanging out at their Sit Spots tally the birds they observe in their nature notebooks. A trio of boys turned their constructed shelter into a pirate ship and before searching for treasure. Their treasure chest is bursting with acorns and seed pods, but the hunt for more loot never ends.

Neither does the play.

But it wasn’t always like this . . .

Rewind a few years back and you would see a more traditional 21st Century kindergarten classroom. Bright colors illuminated every wall, except of course where the interactive whiteboard was hung. There’d be chairs neatly surrounding rectangular tables with color-coded supply storage bins neatly organized and inventoried at each table. Tablets, laptops, and other state-of-the-art technology were loaded with the latest reading and math fact apps, charged and ready for action. The classroom library was organized by reading levels. The stoplight pocket chart clearly showed the behavior infractions observed that day. Everything and everyone had their place. And they were expected to keep it that way.

Morning equaled literacy. Period. A structured reading lesson gave way to specific word work with a big book or poem. Writing time provided a guided lesson followed by some silent work time and possibly some sharing time. Phonics drilled and killed letter sound associations, rhyming, and phonemic awareness. Sight words were introduced, practiced, searched for, practiced again, used in a sight word game or activity, and practiced again. Eventually, they became part of a weekly assessment along with words utilizing the sound and/or chunk of the week. During stations time, teacher-selected worksheets and phonics games were assigned to groups also chosen by the teacher. While those groups worked on their task, small guided reading and/or pre-reading skill groups were pulled for more intense instruction. Any time during the morning, students who didn’t reach a predetermined data point in a certain skill left the room for more direct instruction and practice with a paraprofessional.

After station time, it was time for recess. Of course, if anyone was unable to complete their work for any reason, they could just take the first five to ten minutes (or longer if needed) of their recess to finish up. No big deal.

After some recess and lunch, the march back to the classroom led into math time. After a brief look at the calendar, the interactive whiteboard led a lesson on various math topics including numeral identification, numeral formation, patterns, measurement, number sentences, counting strategies, and addition and subtraction. After completing the lesson, the students broke into predetermined groups to review the aforementioned skills. Some stayed at the board for their activity. Others practiced math facts using flashcards they prepared earlier in the year. A few other groups used worksheets to continue digging deeper into the skill of the week. One group may have played a math board game if a particular worksheet wasn’t available. Once the math groups concluded, students gathered around the whiteboard again to copy down numbers and really master numeral formation and/or addition and subtraction.

After math, the class traveled to specials. Usually two a day. Music. Art. Technology. Guidance. Fitness. This was crucial planning time for the teacher. Time was needed to go over the literacy and math worksheets collected that day and copy new ones for the next day.

After the class returned from specials and scarfed down a snack, intervention block arrived. If students didn’t complete their daily work, needed extra support because they didn’t complete it correctly, or lagged in some skill according to collected data, they had some time to finish their work and possibly even get some time with the teacher.

If time remained, the class might work on science or social studies, but usually in a condensed format. Lots of experiments required setting up and preparing ahead of time, so they were usually skipped, though the teacher might talk about them and see if students can figure it out. If the experiment was completed, rarely did the class really discuss the results or troubleshoot anything that might have come up during the implementation process. There just wasn’t time.

It was time for each student to complete their end of the day jobs, fill out their stoplight chart, review the standards and academic objectives of the day, and play during what was called choice time.

Of course, if work was incomplete, choice time wasn’t an option.

And if your name wasn’t on the green portion of the stoplight chart clearly visible to everyone at the front of the room, choice time wasn’t an option.

And if the class needed more time to practice sight words, review math facts, practice lowercase letter formation, preview the next day’s lesson, review another skill, or discuss the upcoming assessment, choice time wasn’t an option.

But who needed choice time anyways? It was usually loud, messy, disorganized, and full of bickering and disagreements. Some days, the decision was made to have the class prepare for dismissal by sitting quietly to think about the mistakes they made and what they would to fix it.

Day after day. Week after week. Month after month. Year after year. The pattern continued. The students never truly figured out how to fix it.

However, the teacher did. Well, actually, to be quite honest, he had some help.