I'm finally back! It took a random comment from a reader who stumbled upon this blog from a link in the Children and Nature Network. I'm finally back to the blog. It's been an exciting year, to say the least. The family and I relocated (temporarily) to a Chicago suburb, and I've been frantically unpacking, learning the lay of the land, and working on my first manuscript!
My book is "Early Childhood Activities for a Greener Earth" and it's due out in March 2012. I've been working hard and am so thrilled to have this opportunity.
I'm also thrilled to finally have a little time left for returning to this blog, something I've loved, but that has fallen by the wayside in recent months.
Other exciting news is on the way! Thanks for checking back!
Saturday, May 21, 2011
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
Rush hour
I'm currently out of coffee, so this was not one of my better mornings, parenting-wise.
I coaxed, I nagged, then finally bullied the kids into putting away their legos and eating breakfast. I rushed them to get dressed, and then crabbed at them as I zipped, snapped, and velcroed all the assorted winter gear. Finally, we spilled out into the backyard. The kids wandered in a daze, stomping on the chunks of snow, kicking frozen leaves.
I unlocked the car doors, barking, "Come on, guys, get in the car!" and L was standing next to the patch of ground where we started a little flower garden over the summer. "In the car!" I said again.
"But Mommy, I want to show you something!!" she pleaded.
"OK, honey, I'll look at it after you get in the car." I said, buckling J into the car seat.
"No, I want to look at it with you" she said quietly.
Huffy, I walked over to where she was standing.
"Look!" She said in a stage whisper. "The little purple flowers we planted are still there!" She was utterly delighted, thrilled that the flowers were still there, despite the recent snow and frosty mornings.
For children, these little discoveries in nature are so important, and they become even more special when shared with a caring adult. In our constant rushing around, it's easy to lose touch with that, to forget to notice and share the special discoveries our children are so good at finding. Or to dismiss them in favor of other more pressing things.
But allowing children (and ourselves!) the time to make these discoveries is such a gift. Being geninely interested in sharing those discoveries is the best way to honor a child's curiosity and wonder. We honor our children's relationships with nature when we value the discoveries they make. We honor our children's abilities to make discoveries, to notice things. To be curious.
I'm so grateful to my daughter for calling me back to what's important. I'm so glad she took the time to stop and notice, despite my rushing and griping. And I'm glad I took the time to share the discovery with her.
Even if it did make us late for school.
I coaxed, I nagged, then finally bullied the kids into putting away their legos and eating breakfast. I rushed them to get dressed, and then crabbed at them as I zipped, snapped, and velcroed all the assorted winter gear. Finally, we spilled out into the backyard. The kids wandered in a daze, stomping on the chunks of snow, kicking frozen leaves.
I unlocked the car doors, barking, "Come on, guys, get in the car!" and L was standing next to the patch of ground where we started a little flower garden over the summer. "In the car!" I said again.
"But Mommy, I want to show you something!!" she pleaded.
"OK, honey, I'll look at it after you get in the car." I said, buckling J into the car seat.
"No, I want to look at it with you" she said quietly.
Huffy, I walked over to where she was standing.
"Look!" She said in a stage whisper. "The little purple flowers we planted are still there!" She was utterly delighted, thrilled that the flowers were still there, despite the recent snow and frosty mornings.
For children, these little discoveries in nature are so important, and they become even more special when shared with a caring adult. In our constant rushing around, it's easy to lose touch with that, to forget to notice and share the special discoveries our children are so good at finding. Or to dismiss them in favor of other more pressing things.
But allowing children (and ourselves!) the time to make these discoveries is such a gift. Being geninely interested in sharing those discoveries is the best way to honor a child's curiosity and wonder. We honor our children's relationships with nature when we value the discoveries they make. We honor our children's abilities to make discoveries, to notice things. To be curious.
I'm so grateful to my daughter for calling me back to what's important. I'm so glad she took the time to stop and notice, despite my rushing and griping. And I'm glad I took the time to share the discovery with her.
Even if it did make us late for school.
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
we're back!
It's good news that I've been so busy with work demands-there is a huge interest in the "children and nature" movement and I've had lots of interesting and inspiring conversations and lots of great work. I'm just finishing up with teaching a University class on Children and Nature, which has been wonderful but very time-consuming. The Bad news here is that-maybe you noticed the 6 month lapse?- my writing has taken a back seat. I'm hoping to change that.
Recently I attended a workshop on the Reggio Emilia approach to early childhood education, and I'm so intrigued. It's an approach that embraces art and creativity and where the interests of children drive the explorations of the class. I am thinking about how my work as a science educator can be influenced by this approach. I'm also very interested in learning more about how Reggio responds to the natural world, where it makes room for children to connect with nature.
Here at home, we've been enjoying the first snowfall of the season. Dug out the winter gear and hit the slopes for an afternoon of sledding. I'm convinced there is no better way to unleash one's "inner child" than by jumping on a sled in fresh snow.
Recently I attended a workshop on the Reggio Emilia approach to early childhood education, and I'm so intrigued. It's an approach that embraces art and creativity and where the interests of children drive the explorations of the class. I am thinking about how my work as a science educator can be influenced by this approach. I'm also very interested in learning more about how Reggio responds to the natural world, where it makes room for children to connect with nature.
Here at home, we've been enjoying the first snowfall of the season. Dug out the winter gear and hit the slopes for an afternoon of sledding. I'm convinced there is no better way to unleash one's "inner child" than by jumping on a sled in fresh snow.
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Screaming Lemurs
When I was a small girl of about 5, I stood outside the Ostrich Yard at the local zoo and poked my finger through the chain-link fence, awed by the huge bird blinking at me. (these were the "old days" of zoos, when one could do such things) In a flash, the ostrich pecked at my finger and I screamed. I was scooped up into the safety of my dad's arms, all the while screaming.
That is one of my earliest "animal memories." Young children learn so much from their early contact with animals, and some of these interactions can have powerful effects. I love birds and always have, and while I'm not sure this particular incident, er, hatched that love, it certainly made an impression on me. I've never forgotten it. It was the sheer intensity of that experience that made an impression. In a very startling instant, that ostrich went from being something completely disconnected from me to something that was very real, and in fact was interacting directly with me. Early animal interactions can have many "hidden" effects, many positive. Perhaps most importantly, they show children that animals are independent beings, with thoughts, feelings, and reasons all their own. They aren't playthings, displays, or inanimate objects. They're real. They do things, sometimes unexpected things.
Today at the zoo, my kids were looking at a branch covered in lemurs. Now, L in particular has never liked primates much. In fact, she's expressed an actual dislike and fear of them on more than one occasion. She prefers less human-looking animals. So I was impressed with her curiosity about the lemurs. (Lemurs are primates, although less monkey-looking than other primates)
The kids and I stood watching for a few minutes while two Red-Ruffed Lemurs groomed each other on a branch. We speculated about what they might be doing, why they'd be licking each other's faces like that. We guessed what their fur would feel like. We marveled at their long, sleek tails.
Then suddenly, the lemurs both looked at us, with their huge, pinprick eyes. They opened their sharp-toothed little mouths and emitted a shriek like someone's throat was being cut. One of them lept off the branch as it screamed.
Seized with a primal terror, both kids shook and clung to me, one on each leg. They buried their faces in my legs, howling and crying. I rubbed their heads and stood there dumbfounded. (I've never heard a lemur and wow, what a strange noise they make!)
Despite the other, cuter, more "kid-friendly" animals we saw at the zoo, the one thing the kids talked about all day long, was the noise the "monkeys" made. All the way home, despite my probing questions:
"What was your favorite animal?" "What was the best part of the day?" "What do you want to see again?"----the kids were completely stuck on the darn lemurs. The scream. The way their "eyes popped out" when they screamed. Their sharp teeth.
It is very likely that this will be one of those "early animal memories" for my kids. It was powerful, surprising, and emotionally intense. They are still talking about it.
That is one of my earliest "animal memories." Young children learn so much from their early contact with animals, and some of these interactions can have powerful effects. I love birds and always have, and while I'm not sure this particular incident, er, hatched that love, it certainly made an impression on me. I've never forgotten it. It was the sheer intensity of that experience that made an impression. In a very startling instant, that ostrich went from being something completely disconnected from me to something that was very real, and in fact was interacting directly with me. Early animal interactions can have many "hidden" effects, many positive. Perhaps most importantly, they show children that animals are independent beings, with thoughts, feelings, and reasons all their own. They aren't playthings, displays, or inanimate objects. They're real. They do things, sometimes unexpected things.
Today at the zoo, my kids were looking at a branch covered in lemurs. Now, L in particular has never liked primates much. In fact, she's expressed an actual dislike and fear of them on more than one occasion. She prefers less human-looking animals. So I was impressed with her curiosity about the lemurs. (Lemurs are primates, although less monkey-looking than other primates)
The kids and I stood watching for a few minutes while two Red-Ruffed Lemurs groomed each other on a branch. We speculated about what they might be doing, why they'd be licking each other's faces like that. We guessed what their fur would feel like. We marveled at their long, sleek tails.
Then suddenly, the lemurs both looked at us, with their huge, pinprick eyes. They opened their sharp-toothed little mouths and emitted a shriek like someone's throat was being cut. One of them lept off the branch as it screamed.
Seized with a primal terror, both kids shook and clung to me, one on each leg. They buried their faces in my legs, howling and crying. I rubbed their heads and stood there dumbfounded. (I've never heard a lemur and wow, what a strange noise they make!)
Despite the other, cuter, more "kid-friendly" animals we saw at the zoo, the one thing the kids talked about all day long, was the noise the "monkeys" made. All the way home, despite my probing questions:
"What was your favorite animal?" "What was the best part of the day?" "What do you want to see again?"----the kids were completely stuck on the darn lemurs. The scream. The way their "eyes popped out" when they screamed. Their sharp teeth.
It is very likely that this will be one of those "early animal memories" for my kids. It was powerful, surprising, and emotionally intense. They are still talking about it.
Monday, June 21, 2010
Summer Solstice
Happy Summer Solstice!
I hope you have a beautiful summer. It's been an amazing spring for us, with lots of travel to the North Woods and plenty of time outside.
I promise, PROMISE to check in again in a day or so...fun stuff cooking...
I hope you have a beautiful summer. It's been an amazing spring for us, with lots of travel to the North Woods and plenty of time outside.
I promise, PROMISE to check in again in a day or so...fun stuff cooking...
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