How does your library grow?

A few years ago, a child from another class peeped through my open classroom door after school and asked with all sincerity, "Is this the library for Building B?" No, sweet boy, it's just a classroom with lots and lots of books. I understand his confusion, though. Honestly, our school library needs more books, and our classroom is filled with reading materials. Mrs. D and I love books, and we believe strongly that children should be surrounded by them. Print-rich environment . . . check!

To help readers find materials that will interest them and help with their research, I've organized our non-fiction literature into subject-based "Book Boxes" on the shelves with related learning materials. We've got books on the math shelf, on the geometry shelf (the Sir Cumference series has recently become a hit with my third graders who are learning to measure angles!), and on the grammar shelf. We've got books about measurement and money, science and social studies. (Last year, after a few weeks with paleontologists, I realized our collection of dinosaur books was in serious need of expansion. Now we have more than will fit in the box!)

We've got poetry books, picture story books, chapter books, and a very old set of encyclopedias. Our origami books are in constant demand. We even haul books along with us on field trips!



With the points we earn from Scholastic book orders for free classroom books, holiday gifts to our classroom from families, a few kind donors, and our personal purchases, we have no shortage of books.


Thanks to the generosity of students' families, we've also got magazines galore! Each year, I manage (without much difficulty) to recruit six families, each willing to sponsor a subscription to a children's magazine for the classroom. Every month, we receive a fresh, juicy issue of Ranger Rick, Dig, Spider, Kids Discover, Ask, and AppleSeeds.

With so many choices, how could you not find something you'd love to read?!

At the start of the school year, I give new students a tour of our classroom library, explaining how the reading materials are organized, how to find what interests them, and how to carefully restore books to the shelves and boxes where they belong. I also teach a "five finger test" so that they can independently identify books that are at the right reading level. It's adorable to watch a child look over a page in a book, occasionally sticking up a finger and then conclude, "Nope. I think I'm not quite ready for this book. Maybe in a couple of months . . ." or "Yep. This one will be good for me!" When new reading materials arrive in the classroom, I often give a "book talk," or a little advertisement about the new book or magazine. At the end of Silent Reading, I sometimes ask the children, "Who's discovered a book they think other students would love?" and invite them to quickly tell us a couple of sentences about why.

At home, you might consider a seasonal book basket. This could be placed in a cozy spot in the living room or better yet . . . in the bathroom. This may sound a tad unsanitary, but let's face it, even advertisers have figured out that we (well, most of us) are a captive audience in the bathroom. When I was a child, we had a collection of "Bathroom Books" in a basket in the bathroom. Now, this is not the place for your favorite family heirloom books. Even though we quickly learned to snatch up the book basket at the first sign of impending bathroom flood, sadly some of our Bathroom Books ended up water-logged. The Bathroom Books also ended up being some of our best-loved books because we read them again and again. Capitalize on those "captive moments." Read-Aloud Guru Jim Trelease suggests, "There is probably more reading done in the bathrooms of America than all the libraries and classrooms combined. Put a book basket in there, stocked with books, magazines, and newspapers."

Trelease offers up "the Three B's of a home reading kit":
1) Books Ownership of at least a few books is important. The public library has an Annual Children's Book Sale (September 25-27, 2009). Inexpensive books can be found at thrift stores and Half Price Books (a favorite personal haunt--Mrs. D and Mr. D go there for dates!). If you can afford only one, Trelease recommends Where the Sidewalk Ends by Shel Silverstein. Supplement your home collection by visiting the public library regularly.

2) Book Baskets stocked with reading material, placed in spots where they can be used often--such as the bathroom and near the kitchen table. With our urban sprawl lifestyle, you might also place a book basket in the car, provided the members of your family are not prone to motion sickness!

3) Bed Lamp Offer the privilege of staying up a little later (an extra 15 minutes or so) if the child would like to spend the extra time reading in bed. Tell your child, "If you don't want to read, that's okay too. We'll just turn off the light at the same old time." Associate the privilege with the pleasure of reading in bed.

Resources:
The Read Aloud Handbook by Jim Trelease
Jim Trelease's website
Framing Literacy: Teaching/Learning in K-8 Classrooms by Frances Mallow & Leslie Patterson
Nonfiction in Focus by Janice Kristo & Rosemary Bamford

Nature Museum

We are all collectors—at least the members of my clan are . . . Maybe it stems from innate hunter-gatherer instincts. We collect natural bits of this and that and carry them home. My bookshelves are peppered with shells and coral and driftwood, rocks and fossils (of course!). A few small bits always seem to find their way to a spot next to my kitchen sink. My mother's kitchen window sill is lined with shells. Friends (he’s a geologist; she used to work at the science museum) have filled their glass-topped IKEA coffee table with gathered goodies.

"Nature Museum" is a Wilderness Awareness School practice that taps into children’s (and adults’!) foraging, treasure-hunting tendencies. A natural complement to field work, the idea is to provide a place of honor for our collection of fabulous field finds. Just the presence of these objects’ simple natural beauty nurtures the spirit, but this isn't a "museum" in the sense that implies look-but-don't-touch, beautiful-things-behind-and-under-glass. Nature Museum is an interactive source of wonder and reverence for the natural world. It’s inspiration for curiosity, questions, investigation, and artwork. Each object holds a secret story of an experience in nature—who found it, where it was found, and how it was found.

In the classroom, we’ll be examining the objects and asking ourselves, “What do you notice? What is it? How do you know? What has happened to it? Would it look different in a different season? Where would you look to find more of these?” We’ll be making observations, doing some research, and drawing conclusions.

But there’s also learning to be had in the act of collecting. Collecting is a way to help you pay attention and notice what’s already there. It heightens awareness. Even in the city, wildlife is all around us—if you take the time to look.

During the few days when I was collecting the first objects for our classroom Nature Museum, I saw (and heard) so much more than I usually do! Just as I was thinking, “Boy, it would be nice to have an eggshell for the Nature Museum . . .” I spied a small one, gloriously white, nestled in the tall green grass just inside my courtyard gate! Driving down my parents’ street, a Red Shouldered Hawk swooped low and slow across the road, in front of my car, and onto a long, open Oak branch. A few days later, I noticed a woodpecker perched on the trunk of a tree along the trail where I walk. As I hustled potted herbs out into the rain one evening, I disturbed two toads who were living a sensuous, scented life among the mint leaves. Twice (in two different places), I heard a screech owl’s call.

More than just the objects you can carry home, Nature Museum is a habit that leads you to become alert to nature’s sights and sounds, patterns and cycles. What are we finding now? What are the sights and sounds of this season? What are the insects doing? What are the birds doing? What are the plants doing? Our seasons are a little wonky here, but still we are witness to nature’s cycles. Personally, I love that insistent, persistent cicada song of summer sunsets. Today, I spotted acorns for the first time this season and apple-like fruits on bushes that line the street. (After thinking back to spring when I admired the spare, almost-Japanese beauty of their bare, spiked branches dotted with tiny red blossoms, followed by a little research--I was able to identify the mystery fruit! Can you?)

Try incorporating Nature Museum into your family’s life, and notice how it influences your connection with nature. Your home Nature Museum can be as simple as a seasonal display or a beautiful bowl near the washer where foraged fascinations can be emptied from pants pockets. If you have the space, consider adding baskets of resources or even shelves of observation tools and field guides. I love the idea of a “museum” curated with information labels for the finds that warrant more permanent display. Happy collecting!

REMINDER: Collect in ways that are not harmful to you or the landscape.

How to Make a Me Box

Part of settling in and committing ourselves to community is getting to know each other--not only our individual needs but also our individual gifts and passions! What does each of us love to do? What are we really good at? What are the strengths and joys and interests that each of us brings to this community?

I start the ball rolling by giving first graders (and any other new students) a lesson on my Me Box. A Me Box is a special box that's all about me. The box I've chosen for mine is one that my crafty grandmother painted years ago.

Me Boxes are a little bit mysterious.

Each of the objects inside is a clue about the person who assembled the box. They might be hints about hobbies or souvenirs from significant life events.






I gather the children in a circle, and (one at a time) each is invited to remove something from the box.

The children act as investigators--making observations and drawing conclusions about the objects. "What is it? What is it made of? How is it used? Why would I have included this in my Me Box? What does it tell you about me?"

Each child is invited to create a Me Box and bring it to share with us on his/her birthday. The "boxes" come in all shapes and sizes--a tiny suitcase, a shopping bag, a decorated shoebox . . . a child named Starr used a star-shaped box for hers. The contents are equally varied: sports trophies, family photographs, early schoolwork, old journals, artwork, rocks . . . One child brought in a cast from a broken arm. It warms my book-loving heart that the children so often include a favorite book in their Me Boxes! And I love watching each child give us "a lesson" about him or herself!

A great book for adults: The Things They Carried by Tim O'Brien--The title essay explores the ways in which the objects we carry speak about who we are and what we value.

Bring your hard working self

Boy, am I bringing my hard working self! Last year, we had the luxury of ten third graders (nine of whom had been with me since first grade) and five second graders. From the start of the school year, most of the children knew the procedures and modeled our classroom expectations. Most of the children had already received enough lessons for them to fill their mornings with independent learning.

This year, we have fifteen new first graders. Fifteen little people who need to be introduced to enough materials to keep their busy bodies learning independently throughout the morning work period. Fifteen is really too many for a Montessori "small group lesson." It takes too long for your turn to come to touch the materials. Fingers get fidgety. Minds wander. Bodies turn to explore something else in the room. So I'm busy dancing from lesson to lesson, group to group, and back again to make sure everyone understands how to use the materials and remains on task.

Fifteen first graders who need to be nestled into a productive work cycle. Fifteen first graders who need to learn our routines. It feels a little like trying to steer an unbalanced ship or push one of those nutty grocery carts with one "off" wheel. We're moving along, but it takes an initial push--and a lot of redirection--to get everyone going.

Then, there's the bathroom buzz. Every year, the newness of being permitted independent trips to the restroom is a treat that's hard to resist revisiting . . . again . . . and again. (Our early childhood classes either have a bathroom in their rooms or they make group trips to the hallway.) Our bathroom sign-out board is as busy as I am!

Amazingly, we are rolling, thanks in large part to Mrs. D and our patient older children. Most of our first graders have got the idea. "What should I do next?" They're hungry for work, excited to learn. Today, when I took a moment to gaze at the big picture, almost everyone was engaged in productive work. Some have already adopted the kind of deep concentration that is difficult to disrupt. Not bad for the third day of school.

Soon, our wheels will roll more smoothly. Eventually, we'll discover days when momentum eases our cart down the aisle without much pushing at all. Before we know it, these first graders will be third graders, capably leading the class. Patience and persistence. "Cycles do what cycles do."

Rules to live by

Sometimes children possess such wide-eyed wisdom that it takes my breath away.

At the start of each school year, on the first day of school, we sit down together as a classroom community to talk about how we want to be together. First, I ask the children to envision a classroom where their bodies and minds feel safe enough to make mistakes and try new things, where they feel comfortable and supported as they work and learn. What kind of learning community do we want to be? Then, we discuss the rules and guidelines they think we need in order to make that happen. I record our Class Agreement in the children's own words.

In his essay titled "All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten," Robert Fulghum writes, "I realized that I already know most of what's necessary to live a meaningful life--that it isn't all that complicated. I know it. And have known it for a long time. . . . All I really need to know about how to live and what to do and how to be I learned in kindergarten. Wisdom was not at the top of the graduate-school mountain, but there in the sandpile at Sunday School."

If only all of us could live by the rules the children have proposed for our classroom community, the world would be a peaceful place.

Come peacefully.
This one was proposed by a second grader for whom personal peace has sometimes been a struggle. What a gift to hear him offer a statement so poetic and profound!
Be kind. Protect each other. Be careful with your body and your words. Treat others the way you would want to be treated. Use an inside voice. Walk carefully.

Bring your hard-working self.
Bring an "I can" attitude. Choose challenging work. Do your best. Work during work time. Play at recess.

Be honest. Take responsibility for yourself.
This one evolved from, "Don't blame others." They needed a little guidance to turn the "don't" into what we will do instead, but we all agreed the rule was clearer in the end.

Help each other.
This provoked some discussion about what it means to "help." Help others figure it out for themselves. Don't tell them the answers because then they won't learn it. Raise your hand to give everyone a chance to think.

Respect and protect the materials.
I love the way the children worded this! In a Montessori classroom, this is critical. Much of our hands-on learning equipment is expensive and fragile. Some of the materials in our classroom have been used by children for close to twenty-five years (a few were in the classroom when Mrs. D's daughter was a student)! We rely on the children to use them with care.

Listen to each other.
This one's tricky because you can't see listening. We talked about how a listener can show a speaker that s/he is listening: Put your eyes on the speaker. Answer questions but don't interrupt. Sit with a quiet body.

Probably all of us know a few adults who could benefit from these rules. A big part of our work in the Montessori elementary classroom is the not-always-graceful, sometimes stepped-on-toes dance of how to live these rules day to day. The vision is simple. Living it is the challenge . . . no matter how old you are.

What We're Reading:
Whoever You Are by Mem Fox
Our Peaceful Classroom by Aline Wolf

Beginning Again

As Catherine McTamaney so eloquently describes in The Tao of Montessori, the start of each school year is a little like a birth. Now neither she nor I intend dishonor to the real, sweaty physicality that accompanies the birth of a child. I've witnessed this, and it is a huge gift, in a long line of many, that mothers give their children. (In fact, after seeing it, I began to think that we should be celebrating mothers every year on children's birthdays!)

BUT there are similarities. There's the excitement and nervousness of a new beginning. There's the hurried, worried preparation--getting things ready for the arrival of a child. There is often grunting, sweating, pushing--sometimes harsh words or tears. Finally, there's the beautiful business of getting to know the needs of an individual and falling in love with a child.

"Every year, we begin again. Every year, we wonder how in the world we had the stamina to survive the year before. There is a grace in short memories. If we remembered how difficult the beginning of each cycle is, we might not have the courage to begin again.

Each year we struggle. Our classrooms begin in such chaos. Children are crying. Mothers are crying. Fathers are crying. When everyone's gone home, we are crying! Pitchers of water crash in the kitchen. Golden beads hide in the cabinet out of fear. Toes are stubbed on unattended chairs. The toilets overflow.

We are birthing our classrooms again and find ourselves in the sweaty, wet redness of hard labor. Like mothers with many children, it doesn't get easier but we gain perspective. We trust that the children and the classroom will calm. We know that the fear will subside.

There is a gift for each of us in this cycle. Each autumn brings us rebirth. Each school year gives us the chance to begin again, to apply the lessons we learned from our mistakes. Each school year gives us the chance to be young again, even on the days when we feel like we may be too old for this!

There is danger, too. Each year, we agree again to love the children we will lose in ten months. Each year, we agree to the briefest moment's glimpse of the peace it creates before it is time again to say good-bye. Amazingly, our vulnerable hearts keep beating. We return again and again.

Cycles do what cycles do. They build, rise, crest, and begin again. That is the nature of schools. Love dearly each beginning. Mourn dearly each good-bye. Begin again."

--Catherine McTamaney, The Tao of Montessori

So to all the teachers out there, I wish you well in the midst of sweaty labor and the birth of another year, another community. To all the mothers (and fathers and grandparents and aunts and uncles!), we honor the work you've done and are doing that brings a beautiful child to the doorstep of our classroom and entrusts in us his/her care. Please know that we wouldn't do this work if we didn't fall in love with each and every one of your children. It is a gift to be able to "participate in the unwinding expression of their individuality" (McTamaney).

What We're Reading

Wemberly Worried by Kevin Henkes

The Fabulous Flying Fandinis by Ingrid Slyder

Gratitude

Be genuine.

Grow soft and lift your heart to feel grateful.

Stop everything and listen when someone has a story to tell.

Take time to say "thank you" and to write thank you notes.

Discover the extraordinary in the ordinary and admire it.

--Ellen Haas, Coyote's Guide to Connecting with Nature

At the Wilderness Awareness School Mrs. C and I attended, outdoor activities are structured around a foundation of Core Routines for connecting with the natural world, the "learning habits" by which Howard Gardner's "naturalist intelligence" is developed. Gratitude is one such practice, one of the "things people do to learn nature's ways." Coyote's Guide to Connecting with Nature explains that "taking a moment to see the grace in elements of the natural world--frogs, rain, berries, or the sun--deepens our relationships with each one. Thanksgiving reinforces the interdependence of all living things." A routine of appreciation for "the things around us that support our lives" helps us turn our attention to the positive, to all that is right in the world. This is something like the "acknowledgements" we share at the end of each week during our class meeting--little handwritten notes documenting appreciation for those among our class whose acts and words help our classroom community continue to be a peaceful learning place. But this Core Routine of gratitude goes a step further in that it not only calls attention to what is going well with people but also to what is going well in the natural world around us. It calls us to offer conscious appreciation for the ways in which this supports our simple yet miraculous ability to be alive every day. "Discover the extraordinary in the ordinary and admire it."

The traditional Thanksgiving Address of the Iroquois Nation begins with people and then in turn notices that which is beautiful on the earth, in the waters, among the plants, animals, etc. Today, I begin with People, as well.

In a place that typically receives regular summer afternoon showers, we have had a record-breaking hot, dry summer. While Fluffy and I were adventuring far from home, we went an entire month without rain. I was feeling very impressed with the hardiness of native plants when I returned to school to discover that not only had our class butterfly garden survived, but it had flourished over the summer. Then another teacher clued me in that a neighborhood mother and grandfather (belonging to a first grader who will be joining our class this year) had been watering our gardens this summer! In this heat, that is a serious gift. It has also been a gift to take a moment from my frantic preparations to look out our big classroom windows onto a little patch of green buzzing beauty.

Thanksgiving also for family and friends, who fearlessly follow me off the deep end into absurdly messy, sweaty classroom projects. Thanks go to my patient mother who willingly waited without complaint while I debated over just which bulletin board border would look the very best in our classroom, which small lamp would best brighten our dark corner, which pitcher would be right for our landform work, the most attractive whiteboard to replace our bathroom sign-out board, and which white paint to use.

I am probably one of the few who regularly recruits the folks with advanced degrees to help paint her elementary school classroom (but then again, maybe not!). In my defense, this particular friend offered--well, mildly mentioned to my parents, "Doesn't she need any help painting or anything this year?" Before 24 hours had passed, she was swept into a faithful band of volunteers assembled to spend hours painting in my classroom last Sunday afternoon. Such "mild mentions" are dangerous at this time of year!

Regardless of your politics, I firmly believe that the work we do with children can't be done in isolation. No one can single-handedly raise a beautiful, healthy, happy human being without help. It really does take "a village" to do this well. Deep gratitude for all of you out there who are members of my village and for those who allow me to be a part of yours!

Maria Montessori wrote, "We are the sowers--our children are those who reap. We labor so that future generations will be better and nobler than we are." May it be so.

Breathe

I got home last night feeling weary and raw. Although teachers are on district time two weeks prior to our first day with students, very little of this time is allocated for classroom preparation. Instead, most of it is scheduled with meetings and professional development presentations. Even more maddening, some of these seem so far afield from our invigorating, interactive work with children that one wonders if the planners respect teachers as creative, trained professionals at all. As I trudged back to the Metro Rail after a particularly painful program at the George R. Brown last week, I contemplated becoming a taxi driver. (Cab riders of the area, fear not! I am well aware that I do not have the navigational skills to be a taxi driver--missing internal compass and all, but this gives you an idea of my state of mind.)

The result of having our time consumed this way, when there is so much that must be done in the classroom, is STRESS. I feel as if Mrs. D and I have been running a marathon the last two weeks--squeezing as much as possible into the short amount of time allotted, trying to make the most of lunches and brief breaks to laminate, label, cut, copy, collate, paste, paint, and prepare. I have spent hours at school on the weekend and late into the evening, in addition to many more hours at home, trying to get everything ready for The First Day. Mrs. D is up at the school today, organizing the school's lunch cards to reduce the inevitable cafeteria first-day fiasco that takes place when ID cards are not prepared to be swiped by the cashier. Feeling pulled in too many directions, with too many tasks crying out for immediate attention at once--and not taking time to eat a reasonable lunch--produced serious grouchiness on my part yesterday afternoon. The kind where I get very quiet and it's best just not to talk to me or ask me any questions for a while.

When I finally left Friday, the classroom was physically "ready," but I was still feeling scattered and unfocused and unready. "But you said it was pretty much ready," pointed out one very logical and confused family member. True. But I wasn't. Getting ready goes deeper than preparing the environment--making purchases; organizing; cleaning and sequencing materials on the shelves; labeling cubbies, notebooks, folders, pencils, and erasers; copying and collating; storing supplies; adding attractive touches like paint and artwork and flowers. Beyond all those dirty details, it is the mental/spiritual preparation of the teacher that's important. Most of all, I've been mourning the lack of time to just sit and reflect on the coming school year, the space to think big thoughts. And I haven't had time to Blog! This act of writing about our work together began as a way to showcase some of our more exciting classroom activities, but it has become a reflective practice. Writing--and thinking--about what we do has added depth to my work and I missed it.

Aline Wolf writes, "A few years ago I spoke with a beautiful young Montessori guide who told me that in August after she finished painting her shelves and arranging all her materials, she sat down in the center of her classroom and meditated for a lengthy period of time, trying to prepare herself to be part of a loving and peaceful environment. . . . This young woman was aware, I think, of the sacred responsibility of the teacher to be a model and a presence to the children. Teachers are the biggest, most prominent and influential element in their classrooms. Therefore it is vital that their manner reflects the order, the beauty and the peacefulness of a true Montessori environment."

Dinner and sleep helped. Art helped even more. This afternoon, wondering if I should really be taking the time, I hurried off to a Block Printed Fabric class at Sew Crafty. Ahhhh. I was not the only one who felt the relaxing effects. Someone else in the class called it "therapeutic." I was forced to set aside time and allow my mind and body to be enveloped by something other than school. This is not something new. I already know this. I think my best thoughts in the shower and on my walks--when I relax my body and let my mind wander where it may, looking at the world with Owl Eyes. Creativity has the same effect. Ahhhhh. Breathe.

This is where I thank my past self for kindness to the present me. I signed up for this class back in July, when I wasn't yet in the throws of First-Day frenzy. I was aware that the class was two short days before I'd be greeting and shaking the hands of 26 children at the door of my classroom Monday morning. And I signed up anyway because I also knew that it would be good to take time out to just create, time to stop my mind from chewing the same cud and begin to think big picture again. Breathe.


Lessons Learned:
* Remember that children need time for reflection, too. Even though it doesn't necessarily look productive, allowing learners the time and space to ponder and percolate is tremendously important.
* Remember that art is more than creating something beautiful. In the process, the mind is freed for bigger work.
* Remember to feed yourself, both literally and figuratively. Nurture yourself--body, mind, and soul. If you don't take time for this, you'll have little to offer to others. Breathe . . . and eat lunch!

"When you discover something that nourishes your spirit and brings you joy, you must care enough about yourself to make room for it in your life."--Aline Wolf

Dirty Feet

As it turns out, Fox Feet work a whole lot better without shoes. In a part of the world joyously void of the hazards of poison ivy and fire ants and searing cement heat, it is delicious freedom to be able to strip off shoes and socks and run around in the woods barefoot! To be able to peel off the protective coverings in which we usually coat our feet and allow them to directly connect with the earth, sensing and touching the way hands often do, was a surprising bonus. Imagine spending life with stiff, puffy, padded mittens over your fingers and then suddenly being allowed to take them off and feel the world! (Mrs. C and I also had to curb our instinctual avoidance of "leaves of three" in order to enjoy some suspiciously three-leaved plants with edible berries--"Leaves of three, leave it be!" screamed our brains.)

One of the first games we played was "Firekeeper." A "firekeeper" sits blind-folded and cross-legged in the middle of a circle, guarding the "fire" (a set of keys or something equally jingly-jangly), while those of us on the edge of the circle take turns quietly sneaking into the center to steal "the fire" without detection. The firekeeper listens intently with perked Deer Ears for evidence of sneaking, and if she points in your direction, you must return to the edge of the circle. Off went everyone's shoes. It is impossible to sneak with big, heavy, inflexible boots that loudly crunch every leaf and stick in their path.

Having practiced our sneaking skills in an organized setting, we were ready to play "Wildlife is Watching," a game that requires "prey" to hide off-trail in the forest while "predators" slowly Fox Walk down the trail using their Owl Eyes to search for less camouflaged prey. In this game, my bright red t-shirt was a distinct disadvantage, but this pushed me to curl up on the ground under the cover of ferns and stay very still and silent . . . for a LONG time . . . while predators hunted. At my new close-to-the-ground eye-level, I had a chance to carefully observe tiny critters crawling about that might otherwise have gone completely unnoticed. My leg hurt where I had unwittingly pressed it against a sizable twig, but I didn't want to move for fear the sight and noise of movement would attract the attention of my predators (including Mrs. C!). Because I couldn't see the trail from my hiding spot, I had to use my Deer Ears, listening with intensity for when the predators had passed and I might safely readjust position without revealing myself. Mrs. C didn't hesitate to assure me that my red shirt had loudly announced my presence, despite my quiet crouching. Ah, well.


Of course, all this barefoot bliss means that Fox Feet are very very dirty. With the well on the property running low due to drought, drinking water was prioritized over bathing--and showering was not an option. I considered a Fox Feet photo to document the dirty, but we live in a culture that values cleanliness as a barrier to bacterial badness and as a symbol of elevation from poverty and our more primitive roots. (I think some of our parents and administrators might have been scandalized to the point of questioning my personal hygiene and perhaps my judgment in general.) More than once, I stared in amazement (and a pinch of pride) at my dirty feet, hardly recognizing them as my own. It was good to step out of my city-girl shoes for unencumbered play outside, but I must admit it was also good to give those dirty Fox Feet a serious scrub in the hotel shower at the end of this adventure.


Favorite quotes from the Elders who joined us for the weekend:
"If something is worth doing, it's worth doing poorly at first."
"So little to do . . . and SO MUCH TIME!"



[NOTE: Fluffy enjoyed forest life so much, he decided to attempt an overnight "Survival Quest." He reveled in his night alone in the woods, but I worried so much I rented a car the next day to facilitate a rescue mission.]

Ready, Fox Feet?

Start Walkin'!












The other day my brother and I were talking (via Skype because he's currently living in Germany), and he asked me, "So, do you have your fox feet and your owl eyes ready?" I hope so! I am so excited about the upcoming adventure Mrs. C and I plan to share. We are flying halfway across the U.S. for Wilderness Awareness training in the foothills of the Cascade Mountains (in beautiful Washington State). I am currently puzzling over how to lash together all my camping gear and clothes so that they can masquerade as one "carry-on." Somehow I don't think the good folks of Continental Airlines will be fooled. Fortunately, Mrs. C. is bringing the tent!


Hmm . . . the sleeping bag, pad, towel, utensils, and water bottle fit into the suitcase, but I do think they'll be expecting me to wear clothes . . . . . .




After spending several weeks last summer learning outside (first in a marine ecology program where we snorkeled multiple times a day and a few weeks later in a paleontology field school with days of digging in the dirt) and then reading Last Child in the Woods by Richard Louv, I became acutely aware of the importance of taking my students outside the classroom. We have always gone on regular field trips (as often as once a month, many of them outdoors), but for the past year or more, I have been excited about engaging children in outdoor "field work."

A key component of Montessori is "the prepared environment" (the classroom with its careful organization and attractive, developmentally appropriate learning materials). However, Dr. Maria Montessori also writes of the importance for the elementary child (ages 6-12) to explore the world beyond the classroom walls. I think this is where some teachers become uncomfortable. How can we allow children to explore independently in the "scary" outdoor world? A natural outdoor environment can't be "prepared" (or controlled) for the child in the same way that a classroom can. Instead, it is critical to prepare the child. We do this by reviewing potential hazards, learning how to move quietly and increase our awareness of what's around us, and (in lieu of rolling shelves of hands-on educational materials) carrying a backpack "fieldkit" filled with the tools necessary for "field work."

I realize the distinction between "field trip" and "field work" may sound like semantics, but this seemingly minor shift in language represents a big shift in attitude. While I have long acknowledged the importance of helping children appreciate nature, approaching our outdoor field trips as "field work" has pushed both me and the children to value our time outside more deeply and use this time differently. No longer passive spectators in the outdoor world, the children are engaged participants. They walk quietly so as not to disturb the inhabitants of the forest. Their senses are heightened, ready to noticed something fascinating. They are alert to sounds and signs (scat, tracks, and other evidence), using them as clues to the mysteries of hidden animals. As explorers, scientists, detectives, collectors, storytellers, and artists--engaged in "field work"--the children are developing a deeper connection with nature.

I can't wait to learn more!
(Thanks to Amy Beam for introducing me to Wilderness Awareness School and "Coyote Mentoring.")


"Let the children be free, let them have fair play; let them run out when it is raining; let them remove their shoes when they find a puddle of water; and when the grass of the meadows is damp with dew, let them run about with bare feet and trample on it; let them rest quietly when the tree invites them to sleep beneath its shade; let them shout and laugh when the sun wakes them in the morning." --Dr. Maria Montessori, The Discovery of the Child

[UPDATE: I did it! Possibly a new level of packing prowess (in addition to stubborn determination), I have managed to squeeze into my small rolling suitcase the sleeping bag, pad, towel, bathing suit, mug, plate, bowl, utensils, clothes, hat, extra shoes, etc., etc., etc. . . . before midnight!]

Books for children:
Nature Detective: How to Solve Outdoor Mysteries by Eileen M. Docekal
Crinkleroot's Guide to Walking in Wild Places by Jim Arnosky
Field Trips: Bug Hunting, Animal Tracking, Bird-watching, Shore Walking by Jim Arnosky
Wild Tracks! A Guide to Nature's Footprints by Jim Arnosky
Tracks, Scats, and Signs by Leslie Dendy
The Other Way to Listen by Byrd Baylor
Beachcombing: Exploring the Seashore by Jim Arnosky
Big Tracks, Little Tracks: Following Animal Prints by Millicent Selsam
Jim Arnosky's Wonder Page


Resources for adult mentors:
Coyote's Guide to Connecting with Nature by Jon Young, Evan McGown, Ellen Haas
Last Child in the Woods: Saving Our Children from Nature-Deficit Disorder by Richard Louv
City Kids and City Critters! Activities for Urban Explorers by Janet Roberts & Carole Huelbig
Field Detectives: Investigating Playground Habitats (AIMS)
Schoolyard Ecology Teacher's Guide (GEMS)
Sidewalk Field Trips
Project WILD
Simple Nature Experiments with Everyday Materials by Anthony Fredericks