I'm ready and
prepared with all my teaching resources recycled from last year's mini-beast
topic. But does being ready automatically mean that I must have all my plans in
place before we start the lesson, right down to the last detail?
How about this as an alternative? Dressed, excited and about to
venture out to the local woods. When we get there we'll see what happens and
what interests the children.
Freddie has found a ladybird. As the youngster realises he has
my attention, he looks up saying: "He wants to come home with me."
And then pretending to be the ladybird says: "I can't fly as I have no
wings. I can only be his pet."
He turns back to me, asking: "Why can ladybirds swap legs
when they walk? He can climb up my zip. He's never gonna fly off me. He can
climb up the tree."
The thing that struck me is the level and time the children take
to talk, narrating their current activity or interest in great and fascinated
detail.
The outdoors seems to afford them greater time and space, along
with an attentive adult or peer, to range far and wide. Descriptive language
was very evident that day, with insects being a particular focus of attention.
It turned out to be much more engaging than introducing a topic
on mini-beasts and sticking to 'the plan'.
As a result of Freddie's interest I took a pair of secateurs to
the woodland on our next visit just in case he pursued his learning and
interest in where the ladybirds make their homes. He did, and we discussed the
materials available; a selection was made of thin hazel twigs which were too
long for Freddie's purposes. I modelled how to use the secateurs safely and he
concentrated for an hour cutting the twigs into lengths; through estimating and
careful cutting they were all, pretty much, equal length.
I could not have planned for this specific, mathematical
activity. It occurred due to the nature of the resources, the time, my support
and his purposeful interest. Occasional walkers on a nearby public footpath
stopped to look and fondly reminisce about their own school days.
Big questions and inquiries emerged; having enjoyed deep puddles
in previous weeks, Ollie noticed the water had disappeared and children were
digging to find it. Ollie said: "If you dig all the world, there will be
no world left."
Outdoor discoveries, imaginary play, exploration, nature and
science, big spaces that afford climbing, crouching, rolling, mixing, painting
and building – all within a risk-assessed environment that allows children to
be safe to do, rather than safe from doing.
This is how our version of Forest Schools, an idea from Scandinavia, can
enhance early schooling. This involves spontaneous learning in a young
woodland, safely hedged and fenced on all sides. But you don't need your own
dedicated forest: school fields, the local park, a walk to some trees or a hill
should all be a part of every school day.
There are kindergartens, nurseries and schools in Scandinavia
where the Forest School model is not an 'add-on' but an integral part of the
curriculum, either on-site or a short journey away. Children as young as three
appear to know what clothes are appropriate for the weather. They are skilled
in tool use, the boundaries of the woods, the places they return to, the mushrooms
they collect even.
They count, make up songs, are more environmentally aware,
measure and experience flow, gravity, and forces. They also seem healthier and
more alert and their voices are heard; through play, recall, questions and
problem-solving.
Work and play in the woods act as catalysts for their own
stories, using photographs, research and inquiry back in the classroom. They
also learn to manage their own risks. Our role is simply to eliminate hazards
which they may not see and then to let them take us on their own learning
adventure.
After every session, it is not just the children who are alive
with ideas; as a teacher I return amazed, thoughtful and already planning for
the possibilities that may occur next time.
by Annie Woods, Early Childhood Educator - The Guardian
