Rain Walks with Division 3
While the uncertainty of the weather is part of the joy that comes with outdoor education, the reality is that it does have the possibility to thwart the well thought out plans and organization of a trip to the park with 20 eager students.
Living on the coast of BC has been a joy my entire life. I have proudly boasted the lack of umbrella ownership and welcomed the damp hair, wet jeans, and water sloshing around my favourite sneakers. However, choosing to be an educator, promising amazing learning opportunities rain or shine and trudging out in the cold, wet downpour has made me rethink my need for an umbrella, rain pants, a completely waterproof rain jacket, and what exactly it is that I love about this west coast weather. I realized that what I loved was being INSIDE when the downpour hit. The sound of rain hitting the roof while I sipped tea by a cozy fire, curled up with a blanket and a good book. Embracing a curriculum that takes me outside twice a week with twenty or so 5 to 7-year-olds has forced me to rediscover a child-like wonder of the outdoors and most importantly, the compulsive desire that children have to jump into the deepest puddle they encounter without any fear of being soaked to the skin.
Each week I have diligently checked the weather a day or two before our walk. I have combed the hourly reports to see the percentage of rain and the possible amount we might encounter. Most days the weather report is relatively accurate but if I’ve learned anything as an educator, it’s that the best-laid plans must have a Plan B. Such was the case that led us to our Rain Walk adventure. The plan was to complete a mapping activity that we had begun the day before. We required little else besides our clipboards, paper maps, and pencils but the weather report loomed large with rain in the forecast for the entire week. Initially, it wasn’t set to start until later in the week but my colleague and I had the sneaking suspicion we would encounter it much earlier than anticipated.
Sure enough, the day dawned with dark, ominous clouds and a damp smell in the air. I got to my classroom ready to implement the back-up plan. I filled our wagon with watercolour paints and paper, paintbrushes, iPads, an umbrella, plastic bags, and off we went. Thankfully the space we have occupied has two separate covered areas and as I neared our normal meeting place, I saw the inviting puddles filled with thick, rich mud begging to be splattered all over the legs of my entire class. We carefully avoided the usual route with explanations of wanting to explore new areas of the park. As I laid out our supplies (with the help of my many wonderful volunteers), I quickly realized that I was missing an important component to our watercolour painting…WATER. I had intended for the kids to paint and then use the raindrops to bleed the colours. The idea was fabulous aside from the fact that I didn’t have containers for them to wet their paintbrushes or clean them of the paints. But as children tend to do, they neither complained nor batted an eyelash when I explained that they would need to use the puddles all over the park to clean their brushes. In fact, they happily splashed about cleaning using the gathered rainwater as a tool to assist in their creations.
Some painted sunsets, some found leaves to recreate on canvas, some painted starry skies or sunlit, grass fields while others painted random shapes and colours. As I watched this interaction between my students and the natural world, the way it inspired them to the creation of art, I was reminded of the words I’d read in Robin Wall Kimmerer’s book, “Braiding Sweetgrass”. In the fifth chapter of her book, she talks about how she was drawn to the study of botany because her Indigenous heritage had given her a unique perspective on the relationship between nature and humanity as well as the beauty she saw there. She was discouraged to enter the field for the sake of observing and discovering beauty in the natural world but told: “that science was not about beauty, not about the embrace between plants and humans”(Kimmerer 41). While her chapter goes on to help the reader understand good reasons for appreciating and understanding the beauty and the scientific connection, I read it with renewed enthusiasm and passion. I wanted to help my students ponder for themselves what they find beautiful in nature. They were already finding ways to share their inspiration. I wanted to be the educator that held space for their curiosities, encouraged their questions, observations and perhaps even learned something myself from their understandings.
When they were done and the adults cleaned up, I realized how little young students need to reinvigorate their imaginations. I realized, even as an adult, it’s more about my attitude, my desire to find creativity than the fact that it’s been suppressed. I was reminded that all my play as a child had already given me a unique set of tools and much like Kimmerer, as she reminisces about her desire to play in the mud as a child and her continued passion for the outdoors, I hadn’t outgrown my love of being outside (94). In fact, “isn’t play the way we get limbered up for the work of the world” and really we never actually lose that desire but in fact, it becomes our “sacred play” (Kimmerer 94). We are all capable of being imaginative, creative, spontaneous and all things child-like but it does require a level of willingness to let go of the seriousness and embrace the curious, the uncertain, and inquisitiveness that once inhabited our minds.
Educators have long embraced the fully prepared, neatly organized classroom. We have expected the desks lined up and hands raised with inquiry. It makes many of us uncomfortable to leave behind the four walls and embrace the possible messy of being outdoors without physical containment. It’s true that there ismore to think about, classroom management strategies to be reassessed, and rethinking how we present the curriculum. However, we are seeing, again and again, the benefits to our students of leaving behind the traditional classroom and experiencing the wonder of the natural world.
Kimmerer, Robin Wall. Braiding Sweetgrass: Indigenous Wisdom, Scientific Knowledge, and the Teachings of Plants. Milkweed Editions, 2020.
