The Single Most Important Tool for Play That Money Can't Buy

Many parents and educators put a great deal of thought and intention into what we provide our children with for the purpose play. We know that play is important. We know it is truly the work of childhood. We know from this act stem all of their physical, emotional and social development. And so we are mindful when we peruse the toy aisles. We carefully select the books we read and especially those we read to them. We surround them in spaces designed artfully and intentionally. Perhaps we adhere to particular theories of play that we feel support their process. On your mark, get set, hurry up and play!

We have put so much thought and respect into the space and the items that fill it and the people we let in and the routines we surround that with. But there is one thing that I would consider of value above anything else. One "loose part," one "toy," one indispensable element of play that is often overlooked, abused and even neglected or forgotten: time.

Research shows that children of all ages and abilities have a common need for adequate time to truly engage in the process of creative play. An article from the International Journal of Early Childhood Environmental Education entitled "Playing With Nature: Supporting Preschoolers' Creativity in Natural Outdoor Classrooms" sites through a qualitative research study of two outdoor preschool environments that among various factors and elements put into place and space, "large blocks of uninterrupted time"  were a significant source of promoting creative play and problem solving for preschool aged children.

And then we view the typical routine of the ECE classroom: Children arrive, settle in, perhaps play a bit or participate in table activities. Circle Time. Snack Time. Outdoor Time. Group Time. Specials. Extracurricular Activities. Lunch Time. Play Time. Nap Time. Enrichment Time. Pick up Time. After School lessons and sports. Dinner Time. Story Time. Bed Time. We fill every moment of their time. We even have a market for products to support this. Visual timers, safe-to-wake clocks, Siri, Alexa... And phrases like "Time Management," as though time needs an external source to overrule her. And why?

There are so many things a child must know before kindergarten. If we don't set the pace, we are not preparing our children for real life. If we do not fill the space between the minutes and the hours, they will grow bored. And we also interpret what we see. Children who may be boisterous and rowdy in the classroom or playroom. Children who may be "disengaged" and quiet or withdrawn. Children who are "not playing functionally" with the toys and materials at hand. Children who are experiencing conflict or "behaviors" or otherwise acting inappropriately. It must be time to redirect. To change activity. To switch up the routine.

It's uncomfortable for us. We have an ingrained adult impression of time now that likely was imposed on us from early on. We have a small threshold for waiting and boredom. We are used to instant gratification and technological advances support us in this. Our own pace is often so rapid that by the end of the day we're not sure if we're chasing the clock or it is chasing us. We often say things like "I need to slow down" or "I wish time would just stand still." " The days are short but the hours are long." But we continue to need to fill the spaces between words and between minutes. We can tolerate neither silence nor space.

I feel that so many of the battles we have with our tiny humans and within ourselves are not anything more than battling the clock and the ownership of each tic and tock. We say things like "it's your time you are wasting," but is it really? Or is it mine? Does anyone really claim to own time?

It is also my belief that a great deal of the issues we see today in our children's learning and development are related not to inadequate parenting, inadequate nutrition, inadequate knowledge or inadequate physical activity, but rather due to inadequate time. We have expectations of what play and learning should look like and beyond that, we have expectations of how much time should pass before, during and after that process. This particular task takes me this much time, it should be the same for everyone, no?

Children Who Are Slow to Warm Up
Some children enter a space and are not immediately engaged and immersed in play and activity. Perhaps they are looking around. Perhaps they pace the perimeter. Perhaps they seem withdrawn or like they don't know how and where to begin. So we push them along, we "make a choice for them" (because not choosing is not a choice). What would happen if we didn't?  What if we tolerated our discomfort with a child not immediately engaged in play and waited and watched...

Children Who Flock to the Familiar
Some children day after day, given a plethora of new activities and toys and materials will flock to the same spot or same activity. We label them as reluctant to try new things. And when the 15 minute block of "free time" is over, they still have only played with Magnetiles for the millionth day in a row. What would have happened if the block was not over in 15 minutes?

Children Using Materials Inappropriately
A child is carrying dolls from the dollhouse over to the block area. That's not where the dolls go, they go in the dollhouse. And, oh my goodness, the pompoms from the craft shelf are in the kitchen set being mixed voraciously in a pot! Now the children are wreaking havoc on the setup of the room and it must be time for clean up.

Children Who Act Rowdy or Boisterously in the Environment may be expressing unfiltered joy, excitement and pleasure--unfiltered expression of emotions is the only way young children know to express themselves. Their lack of inhibition may not be what we as adults with years of practice at bottling up, masking and stifling emotions are comfortable with, but it is what is natural to our young ones. The same goes for expressions of frustration, disappointment or other tumultuous struggles in play. Do we rush to the "rescue" to help them "calm" their bodies (i.e.: tame their flames of emotion) and to "relieve" them from the discomfort of a tumbling block tower rather than allow them the opportunity to grieve that loss and rebuild? And in doing so, are we not also putting them into developmental debt? A buy now, pay later credit plan for soothing the discomforts of natural play emotion to the detriment of creative thinking and problem solving?

Children Who Cease and Desist From Activity
Little Sally was so busy playing with the baby doll in dramatic play but now she's stopped and is just pacing the room, seemingly looking for something to do. She needs a prompt. She needs a reminder to choose an activity.

They Are Starting to Argue
It's over a toy being shared. It's over the use of the space. It's over whose idea is implemented into the block building or who knocked it down when someone wasn't done yet. It's an issue at home and in the classroom. Conflict happens. But rather than allow it to happen and resolve, we do a fancy little dance called The Redirect. Heaven forbid the children experience the tension of conflict and resolving it; we can do that for them and it will save time.

They Will Be Bored
If we don't fill every moment of every minute of every hour of every day, the children will be bored. Gosh, that's uncomfortable for me to even think about...

But what if one day we just didin't. What if we didn't make their choices for them or nudge them along? What if we waited out the Magnetile play only to discover that after the comfort of the familiar, he felt ready to explore the novel? What if even though the function and space of a material was clear to us, we considered it is also clear to them? And that there can be more than one way to play with the same toy? That purpose is internal; not external. What if we let go of the parameters of our own tolerance of conflict and allowed children to discover and establish their own? And what if we let them be bored? What if we looked at child's pause in play as a semi-colon and not a period.

Something incredible happens to me again and again as a parent and an educator. I have a need to fill space and time. We need an activity. We need a provocation or an invitation or a theme or direction. And then, one day, I draw a blank. Either I lack a specific idea or direction. Or I lack the time personally to implement the million and two specific ideas and directions I have in my back pocket. And all that is left is space and time. Or even more anxiety inducing, what if I did put in the time and effort and set up an amazing space and provocation only to see children exhibiting unexpected behaviors with it--not immediately engaging, or using the materials differently than I'd envisioned or playing only briefly and then walking away? I have an attachment, you see, to my ideas and my space and my TIME. But then I step back. I stop and I a breathe and I let go. And the child who was not immediately interested eventually does step in and engage. Or the child who's using the materials differently actually had an amazingly well thought out plan and purpose, something I had not envisioned in my limited adult scope. Or the child who played for a moment and fled fulfilled her purpose in that space and carried it with her proudly to the next portion of her day.

Time, its function, its purpose and how we fill it is individual to each and every one of us. Our adult discomforts around it are not the same for our children. On the contrary, many need and crave the space of open time to truly engage in creative thinking, problem solving and meaningful play. I can remember as a child watching this particular clip from The Muppet Show and feeling amused by the bubbles and explosions and whimsy. Now that I'm grown, it always makes me cry. My own time has been hijacked but it doesn't need to be so for my children. Perhaps it's too big and too elusive to store in a bottle, but perhaps I can also open myself up enough to allow it to rightfully exist in its own independent space.

If I could make days last forever

If words could make wishes come true,

I'd save every day like a treasure, and then

Then, I would spend them with you

I invite you to step back. To breathe. To take a moment or even a minute and maybe, if you can, longer. I allow you the opportunity to take that moment, that minute, that hour and not need to fill it from brim to brim. I allow you the space of that moment, that minute and that hour to experience, to notice, to attach and then let go of the discomfort. And instead to watch. To observe. To see children given so much by those who care so deeply for their well-being finally being given the one thing that money can't buy: enough time. And truly, for that moment, that minute and that hour, giving it to yourself as well.

Happy Playing!

The Pedagogy Police

If you’ve been around these blog parts for a while, you’ve likely noticed I feel strongly about one thing when it comes to parenting and education: the importance of play. And beyond that, I’m pretty eclectic in my approach. Perusing bookshelves and philosophies when it comes to choosing how we parent and educate can feel like standing at the counter of the ice cream shop when there are 692 flavors to choose from. How many scoops can you get? Will you be back here soon? Will you choose only one flavor or maybe try a few? What if you have buyer’s remorse? And what if that only emerges once you’ve eaten all but one bite? Or maybe you’ll really like mint chocolate chip and you’ll choose it again and again and again but never try rocky road. You’ve heard it’s good but how do you know? Mint chocolate chip is familiar, you know you like it, it’s predictable and satisfies the urge, but you may go your whole life on one flavor never experiencing the 691 others (not to mention several limited time only seasonal varieties that come and go throughout the years)…

I have been in and out of classrooms over the years where pedagogy ruled over the play. Strict adherence to one particular model was of the utmost importance, to the benefit or to the detriment of the key players—the children themselves. We have names and faces and texts and evidence and data and documentation to support our approach. And at the end of the day it is a game of who said it best? Rudolph Steiner? Maria Montessori? The community of Reggio Emilia? You begin to hear statements with words like “always,” “never,” “should...” There is going to be a lifetime ahead of “always,” “nevers,” and “shoulds.” Why are we already applying them in the early years and, of all things, to children’s play and learning?

On the one hand, we all agree that play is the work of the young child. We’ve seen it in every theory and pedagogical model phrased in one way or another. We disagree, however, on how this looks in action. Children should use loose parts for play, only open ended materials and objects without a particular function or purpose. They should use these creatively and learn through moving and manipulating them within their environment. Children should engage in symbolic play using toys and props that mimic those used in “real” (re: adult) life scenarios. Children should learn through provocations and invitations to expand on their ideas and curiosities about the world. Children should be given access to a variety of intentional materials to use in learning. The purpose of these materials is singular, serving a meaningful function--that stick is always to be used to measure the distance between ascending blocks and never to be used as a drumstick. Children should always work seated at a table, sitting at an unrolled mat, outdoors, indoors, while moving, while sitting still. Children should have ample and adequate time to engage in play and learning; they should choose how to spend their time and if and when to shift gears. Children will grow bored if they remain at one activity too long, we need to push them along to avoid this. All art should represent something created by an adult. No art should represent something created by an adult. 

Even the aisles of toy stores tell us what we should introduce or not introduce to our children: Toys should be gender role specific. Toys should make noises and light up. Toys should be made from natural materials. Toys should be colorful and durable to engage a child's interest and withstand his strength. Children should play with their own things. Children should play with our things. Children need a lot of toys so that they will never have to share or become bored. Children need only a few toys so that they will learn to focus and persevere. Children should be given access and exposure to real objects so they will learn how to use them and how to be safe. Children should be given access and exposure to objects that mimic real objects so that they can play and imagine about the real thing within the safety of plastic.

We may resonate strongly with a particular pedagogy or educational model. We may resonate so strongly with it, that within it we become rigid and at risk of hijacking our children's play and learning process. I compare early education models to nutrition. I view nutrition as a holistic approach. For me, personally, it works better to add in foods that are nutritionally dense without restricting foods that are less so. Some of my friends do very well to see food only as fuel, energy in, energy out. Some do very well to adhere strictly to a diet with certain nutritional components and without certain others. I, myself, must adhere to a diet free of wheat and gluten and I also choose to keep a strictly kosher diet. However, I see a place at my table for both ice cream and carrot sticks. They serve different functions, but I value food both as fuel for my body and nourishment for my soul. I like the experience of enjoying flavor and company at the table. And while there is a biologically different value to a carrot than to an ice cream cone, both play a meaningful role. 

I want to share a funny little anecdote from my own childhood, growing up as the daughter of an early childhood educator. My mother was quite progressive in her teaching and parenting style. We were given old VCRs to take apart and tinker with. We had ample time to play independently in our yard. And, in the corner of the playroom in a cardboard box never to be unpacked no matter how many years went by between a move were a tall stack of coloring books. The one that was always supposed to stay on top was a more "progressive" coloring book with drawing prompts rather than classic black and white images to color in or mazes to complete. My mother favored process art activities and we did quite a lot of this on our own or with her. But once in a while, I hid down in that corner, removed the top coloring book from the box and sat for hours filling in the lines of a classic, cheap coloring book. We also had a huge bin of Barbie dolls and accessories we could play with but my mother would not assist in dressing/undressing. Rather, if we got into a bind, she might give us some fabric and ribbon and scissors to create an outfit we could put on easily. We knew she "hated" Barbie and we played deeply into our dramatic plots for days and weeks at a time.  Years later when I began my own teaching career, I walked into my new classroom as the lead general Ed teacher (we were an inclusive program) and got ready to revamp the classroom inventory, the first things I hauled off, one under each arm, were a stack of coloring books and a bin of Barbie dolls. About an hour later, I met my co-teacher, a special educator with 15 years of experience on me. She was carrying two things, one under each arm: a stack of coloring books and a bin of Barbies. And so began my year of cowering under her glory, a year I would describe as the most difficult and most rewarding in my career. I learned more from watching her and the children than anything else I can pinpoint. My own children have full access to open ended materials for play and process art and having two boys, I don't currently have any Barbie dolls yet, but they practice early writing skills, spatial awareness and even plain ol' relaxation coloring in coloring books right out in the open, no box needed. Sometimes, I color with them...

And if there is one thing I have learned and observed in working in a range of environments with a range of children it is this: they will play. If the room is set up to explore loose parts, they will play. If there are toy fire trucks and pretend food and baby dolls that have eyes that close when you lay them back, they will play. If they outdoors and there is a playground, they will play. If you are outdoors and there is no playground, they will play. If everything is painted in hushed and neutral tones, they will play. If it is brightly colored with fluorescent lighting, they will play. And when they play, they learn. Are they playing the right way? Who are we to judge? Is playing with a fire truck that lights up and sounds a siren when a button is pushed on the top less valuable to my sons than building a fire from red, orange and yellow play silks, collected sticks and stones and roasting a playdough marshmallow over the flames? Who am I to say? I can say that I personally have a limited amount of patience for the noise of that fire truck, but thank goodness for Bubbies who stray from the birthday wish lists and know that my boys love these noisy toys just as much as they love sticks, stones and scarves.

If our intent as parents and educators is to foster an environment that is conducive to a child's learning and play processes, we need to let go of the idea that we (adults) know or even remember what that looks like for a child. Each child is different and within that, each child is different from moment to moment. Her needs, her curiosities, her fears and her wonders shift and change throughout life. In one moment, she needs to rock a small baby doll, wrapped in a blanket and help her to sleep. In another moment, she needs the large body movement of lifting heavy blocks and building towers to knock and ramps and tunnels for balls to roll. He needs the opportunity to climb up the playground ladder and slide down the twisty tunnel just as much as he needs to use a stick in sword play while standing on top of a large boulder. She needs a tray of paper and access to real artists' pastels just as much as the Paw Patrol coloring book and name brand crayons. The only thing that matters, or at least the one that matters most is that the play is theirs. They apply the boundaries, the meaning, the length of time and the purpose. When we come in, whether it is to helicopter over them or to dictate their space or the function of their playthings or the length of time to engage (and what that engagement should look like), we hijack their play. It is akin to plagiarizing someone's work and even defacing/rewriting what they have created to meet our own personal agenda. 

Social media provides an incredible canvas of support for parents and educators alike. And it also can be restrictive. Pedagogy Police troll these bridges of communication between people who are at once experts and novices in their fields. I think that we must establish firmly our intention and then, at the end of every day, establish it again. My intention as a parent and an educator is to provide an environment--both physically as well as emotionally/spiritually that nurtures my children's process of learning through play. I understand that within that framework, their environment will frequently change and evolve. I understand that within that framework their attention and focus will frequently shift. I understand that their version of play will look different from moment to moment and it will also look different from mine. I understand that all play has value and all play has purpose. All play is theirs, however, and not mine. I am blessed to be invited into their world of wonder and when I am invited, I do join in. It is a gift to be welcomed into a world of wonder I've all but forgotten, if even only for a moment. When we honor our children in their process of play and self discovery, we nurture the child still within ourselves, still exploring discovering this world for the very first time. For even if this is your 12,426th rotation around the sun, it is still the first time you've made the journey at 12,426 days old!

Happy Playing!

Setting Up (Tiny) Spaces to Nurture Wonder & Curiosity in the Garden

"Please Touch the Plants" urge these tiny garden labels from inside the pots of our succulents last year. I have spent a good few seasons now trying to make our outdoor space a living room for the whole family--shorter members included. And when it comes to setting up a home garden, a play garden or even an outdoor classroom, tiny little installments within your space can encourage huge amounts of exploration from your youngest explorers.

I love to incorporate elements into our space that remain in the space (as opposed to activities or materials I may bring in and out) that appeal to all of the senses. I may use similar materials (or even the ones set out) in directed activities, but the difference here is that the materials are always out and available to be used as the young horticulturalist sees fit while in his garden laboratory.


In designing and implementing these elements of your outdoor space you do need to consider space itself (how much or how little, whether it's a space where children can roam and play freely and without risk of harming your edible garden or flower beds, etc.) as well as protection from the elements (especially moisture and heat).

Here are some ideas you may incorporate:

Tools to Encourage Observation:

 Tools and materials to encourage taking a closer look, documentation, observation and a little bit of fun and wonder fill these plastic caddies in the front play garden and in the back. For items that need waterproofing, I love plastic pencil pouches (available super inexpensively during the back to school season, which is when I stock up).

Some items you might include are:

• clip boards
• cloud viewers
• a nature journal or notepad
• ink pad
• colored pencils, pencils, markers (I avoid crayons that might melt)
• a tin of clay
• laminated paint samples for color scavenger hunts
• magnifying glasses
• magnifying boxes
• scissors
• masking tape or double sided tape

Ok, there are definitely some bubble necklaces in there, too--you never know when you might need one of those!

A designated dry erase board or chalk board can make for a wonderful vertical surface with a tin or waterproof pouch or box containing markers or chalk. It's a great place to draw, write garden messages and/or observations. Also a wonderful location for magnetic poetry or pictures if it happens to be magnetic as well.

Caddies or totes intended to encourage exploration of wildlife and taking a closer look outdoors might include some of the following:

• critter cage or butterfly net
• magnifying glasses
• prism lenses
• prisms
• binoculars
• large tweezers
• bug/butterfly nets
• small field guides protected in a waterproof pouch or laminated cards/pictures

Elements of Sound:

I live with two little boys for whom everything is a drum. I'd love to have a sound wall outdoors but I also love not being homeless and evicted from my apartment. Our "quiet" xylophone resides outdoors now inviting my youngest musicians to grab a stick or even a spoon or garden tool and tinker out a tune--not too loudly--in our play garden. Aside from that, there is plenty of using our outside voices outside...

And kudos to that neighbor who used to send her daughter outside to practice her recorder last year! You are my hero!

Sometimes the element of sound is observed as we listen to birds chirping, neighborhood sounds, buzzing bees, barking dogs, children playing...

Elements of Touch:

Gardening is a hands-on experience when it comes to digging, sowing seeds, harvesting, pulling weeds... But a lot of the time we find ourselves telling the bodies attached to the smaller hands in our family not to touch the plants, not to pick the flowers, not to step on the grass...

So finding elements that children are encouraged to touch and manipulate is a must! Many plants can withstand a child's touch and furthermore, learning how to touch and move their bodies around plants and flowers and wildlife is an important lesson for children to learn even early on. We've had our share of mishaps---like a watermelon plant removed from its roots, some toppled and trampled mammoth sunflowers and even some prematurely plucked green tomatoes. It's all par for the course. If we cannot fail in the garden, where can we grow?

I really like to find ways to get to YES in world full of NOs. Elements for mixing, concocting and sensory play are abundant outdoors and need very little added. Three of my very favorites are dirt, sand, and water. Having access to those can lead to a plethora of play and learning opportunities.

Succulent plants do quite well to be touched and tickled. They come in a variety of textures (do avoid very sharp cacti with young children) and colors and sizes. Our Please Touch the Plants garden is finally back outdoors and adjusting to its preferred habitat after a winter being cooped up by our dining room windows.

We may not want the children cutting flowers or plucking veggies out of our own garden beds, but having a space or a pot that is their very own can make this activity one that is available to them. Our snipping garden is merely an old window box with small violets, pansies and hostas. I choose inexpensive plants or parts of my own plants to place in the box as needed. Herbs would also be a lovely addition. Sometimes S likes to gather some flowers to put in a small pale or vase of water. Sometimes the boys pluck or cut blossoms for mud and water potions and concoctions. They know that this is their plot for cutting and plucking and that other pots and places require permission first. Cutting the grass is also always a popular activity and identifying weeds with my assistance allows for additional gathering and foraging opportunities.

Elements of Scent: Herbs, herbs, glorious herbs. Long before the flowers are blooming and the fruits and veggies are ready for harvest, starter plants are in abundance at garden nurseries, hardware stores, grocery stores and farmers' markets. Early on children can be shown how to gently rub their hands over the fragrant leaves to release the scent or even how to pluck one or two leaves and rub it between their fingers. A mortar and pestle can introduce a whole new level of grinding and crushing and smelling these fragrant wonders of the kitchen garden...

These are the earliest lessons in the season of harvest to table. Mint leaves come in to be steeped in hot water for tea. Chives are pulled and tasted right from the planter! Rosemary and lemon balm are finely chopped and added to a batch of homemade melt and pour soap to scrub our gardeners' hands clean when we do finally come inside.

Elements of Taste:

One of the greatest reasons to garden and grow things is to eat things that you grow! Year round, microgreens can be quickly and easily grown indoors. Thinning out early seedlings is a lot less emotional for the attached gardener if you can harvest and enjoy the tiny sprouts, like with the beet sprouts pictured to the left.

One of the harder parts of gardening to grow your own food is, well, waiting for it. Having plants that are in various stages of readiness is helpful for me (and the younger gardeners here). Earlier cold weather crops like lettuces, greens, and broccoli help tide us over while we wait for the first harvest of quickly growing crops like radishes that can be planted in rotation throughout the season. Buying starter plants can speed things along once the season has begun (especially if you didn't start seeds indoors). And when it comes to choosing what you'll grow to eat, I'd suggest choosing what you like to eat. Perhaps save the farmers' market for trying something altogether new and avoid that issue of bringing up a crop of hot peppers nobody likes.


I also like for the boys to have some plants that are their very own. Last year, for S this was a beloved strawberry plant that overwintered beautifully and has returned to flowering this spring! We also planted new strawberries with each of the boys as soon as starter plants came out. Nothing is sweeter and more exciting than a big, juicy, red berry plucked fresh from the vine, no sharing!

There is truly a sense of wonder and reverence for something you've grown, nurtured, loved and harvested yourself. This year both of the boys are old enough to participate in this process. They would likely choose every plant in the nursery if it were up to them. S was enamored with a giant horseradish plant last year but alas, I had to quell his thirst for it because we simply didn't have the space. And I also knew he wouldn't eat it! Y was enthralled by every plant and shrub and tree on our recent nursery walk and really wanted a cherry tree for our yard. I sadly did have to decline and settle for some broccoli starters (they are like tiny trees!) because we cannot plant a cherry tree in our apartment yard...

I would also go completely insane purchasing plants if left to my own devices. And maybe then, I'd have so many that no one would notice if half of them are dead!  But the garden when set up as a place that nurtures wonder and curiosity also encourages us to slow down. To breathe in the scent and taste the flavors of the season. To hear the sounds and feel the textures and the breeze. We slowly observe the world around, and above and below...and we cannot help, even as adults, but return to that coveted place of playfulness.

Elements of Playfulness:

Everything I sneak and stash in my garden is to invite my children and myself into a world of play. Tiny fairy gardens, mud kitchens, tools for scientific exploration and discovery, baskets of nature's loose parts, cooking accessories, toy barbecues, ribbons and pinwheels for blowing in the wind and weaving, sticks for stirring, casting magical spells or walking, silk flowers for "planting," real gardening tools for digging, chalk for drawing and rocks painted as bugs, animals, favorite foods, or labeled with letters and words spark a sense of wonder in players of all ages. And, of course, your more "traditional" outdoor toys--for riding, rolling, throwing, catching, driving...

A garden is a space that nurtures wonder and curiosity on a grand scale, but it doesn't need to be a grand space and nor do we need to stock it with large elements for play. Very tiny spaces can be enormously enhanced by small scale additions, stored and tucked away in creative ways to draw in interest. With that in mind, our garden is not a place we visit to escape or even a stop on our way indoors. It is, rather, the destination itself. It is the place we go to reside until we are hauled in under an arm like a football, kicking, screaming, protesting and covered head to toe in mud.

Happy Playing!

Get Outside And Play with Loose Parts: The Pesach Edition!

Pesach is ever so near and it is a holiday laden with opportunities for play and learning for children. S has been busy crafting, learning, storytelling, reading, building, tasting and singing at school. Y has been working on his own Hagadah with me at home. Their free play at home has been infused with Pesach themes and one afternoon last week, I decided to roll with that in an "out-of-the-box" and outdoors way--playing about Pesach with loose parts.

There are plenty of loose parts purists out there--folks who use only the strictest adherence to loose parts play theory in their classrooms and homes. These spaces can be amazing for children and adults of all ages. I am more eclectic here. I like to add it in, like a nutritional supplement, as opposed to rigidly adhering (like a restrictive diet). One challenge I often have with loose parts play indoors is the restriction of space. We make it work and have done some amazing play and exploration with a variety of different loose parts. Heading outside allows us a bit more space (particularly in our backyard space, even though, like our front yard it is semi-public and shared with neighbors) and a novel backdrop. One in which the environment itself can serve as a loose part (or multiple loose parts).
In setting up our provocation, I wanted to include the Pesach story and elements for retelling it. I also wanted to incorporate items large and small, natural and man-made, living and nonliving, some even musical! There was a basket with a baby Moshe and a picture book with the Pesach story. There was a basket full of play silks and scarves. Perhaps the boys would dress up or add them to the scene. Silks laid across the ground to resemble the river were lined with rocks (and a basket of those were set along the side as well) and plants. There was a tray of frogs and glass gems (gotta throw in your favorite plague), and a small dish of glass gems and mosaic tiles and interesting stones as well. Another metal tray held our fearless leader, Moshe Rabeinu, and a selection of wooden peg dolls representing the Jewish people behind him on their journey out of Mitzrayim. The end of the Nile was marked with a basket of tambourines played by Miriam and the Jewish women and along the sides were some baskets of cardboard tubes and assorted window blocks. Beyond that were the items already out in our backyard space.
I gave very little introduction other than to say there were toys and materials for playing about the story of Pesach. The boys could use what they wished as they felt they wanted to. They could act out the story, play about it, build about it or come up with their own ideas.

Many times, when something is new, it is met with a bit of trepidation. Some children will flock toward the familiar. Some will dip their pinky toe in and then slowly enter. Others jump in, full body and immerse. Still others will go to another space or activity altogether and enter only when ready. This is why I always remind myself and others of the most important "loose part," TIME. Children need time to engage, immerse and remain in creative play. We tend to pour a lot of energy and time ourselves into provocations or activity setups and then we can feel frustrated or concerned when they are not met with a response we expected. One thing I have almost always found to be true is that given the space of time and silence, children do engage and explore--each in their own way and at their own pace.

Y went immediately to the baby Moshe in the basket. He loves babies right now and this felt familiar and soothing.

S gave everything the once over and walked away to the sensory bin, still filled with desert sand dough from our Digging in the Desert STEM challenge. A repeated activity has the component of familiarity that is comforting to him and served as a base for later emerging into the play scene across the yard... Sand, dough and sensory materials are a wonderful loose part to use in play! He also enjoys using other loose parts and tools in the sensory table, taking them out into other play areas and adding in others from other play areas as well. 

Both boys slowly moved into their play experience and I really invited myself to sit back and observe. At one point, I asked S and Y if they would like me to read the story in the book while they played. S's response was incredible! "Mommy, I'm worried that if you are reading it will stop us from playing!" I love that he advocated for ownership in his play space and experience. I completely respected his response and continued to watch as they played, responding to questions or remarks as I was invited to.

Play begets play and sometimes there are requests for additional components to support the process, like when S asked if I could build the tee-pee for them again. We stopped into the house to grab our old sheet and I re-planted the garden stakes and fastened on the sheet for the boys. He busily took to building a bonfire again using silks and stones and then needed to go to the front yard to pick a couple of sticks from our play garden. That, of course, meant he'd need some playdough from our STEAM drawer cart inside to make them marshmallows for roasting. Perhaps the part about roasting marshmallows over a bonfire during the original exodus from Egypt didn't make the story line in our liturgy, but it did in play!

 Large riding toys, push toys and other outdoor materials make for great loose parts as well. Here, S lay himself in our big red wagon and declared that he was "baby Moshe in his basket."

It took the boys a while to fully engage in our provocation and they were completely immersed for quite a while as well. Long enough for Tatty to get home and make the grown-ups some dinner which we happily ate up outside watching the boys in wonder and play.


Once two, somewhat reluctant but very tired boys were hauled up for a bath and bedtime, I decided to set up a smaller scale Pesach provocation on our kids' table. This would greet them in the morning and kept them busy throughout the weekend that followed. While they start at the table, the pieces rarely remain there. Some are incorporated into block buildings. Some find their way to other areas or other uses and part of encouraging the boys to engage in this type of play is allowing for that (and working on skills to return objects appropriately when we are done). One of the best components of encouraging loose parts play before a big holiday is the fact that it is so independently led and run by the children. We can get a lot done while they are engaged in their play. There's still a lot to do to prepare for the holiday but for now, everyone is keeping pleasantly busy (most of the time) and, as always, happily playing!

Troubleshooting Tuesday: The Cleanup Conundrum

 I was recently listening to an episode of a new (to me) favorite Podcast, Loose Parts Nature Play entitled "Strategies for Cleaning Up With Loose Parts." The voice (and person) behind this incredible podcast (and website) is Dr. Carla Gull, an educator, outdoor teacher and expert on loose parts play and nature based learning. I am so inspired by her work and wisdom. I will humbly admit, however, that while I consider myself progressive as a parent and educator, I'm not quite at the point of maturity and wisdom myself where I can look at my living room carpet covered in blocks, rocks, peg dolls and fairy furniture at 8PM and see it as "play residue" and not, well, a giant mess. But hearing her (and others') framework on concept of mess versus evidence of play did raise my awareness and curiosity on the matter...

What do you see? Is it a tower or a mess? We took
this photo before it was time to clean up so it can
be added to our BluePrints Book for ideas
and instructions on future buildings...

Oh, the cleanup conundrum. The struggle is real. In the classroom. In the yard. In the playroom. At home. In the car. It follows us, well, wherever they do! We've all stepped on a Lego. Tears have been shed. Sometimes even blood. Toys have been broken, lost, abandoned, neglected. There have been battles, even outright wars. There has been bargaining, yelling, negotiating. Songs have been sung. Timers have been set. Prompts have been given and warnings and threats and consequences. Excuses have been made. Tantrums have been thrown. Toys have been thrown. Expletives have been thrown. All over the single, simple sentence: "It's time to clean up."

So let's unpack this a bit--I warn you, it may get messy in here...

Only One Word
We have a lot of words and phrases for what the children do with the toys and materials of the ECE classroom or home playroom. Free play. Choice Time. Table Time. Work Time. Play time. Centers. Small Groups. We have a lot of words and phrases for the spaces used for this activity. Playroom. Stations. Work Space. Block Area. Dramatic Play Center. Art Center. Writing Center. Toy box. Kids' Room. Science Lab. Math Shelf. Atelier. Backyard. Playground. But when it's "that time" all of a sudden their work, play, choice, building, center, math, art, writing, science experiment all becomes synonymous with one word: mess. Clean up this mess.

Imagine...
Imagine you have just spent two and a half hours painting a true work of art on canvas. Someone in an authoritative position now comes up to you and says, "Ok, it's clean up time. Time to wipe all of that messy paint off your canvas!" Perhaps she gave you a prompt five minutes ago. "In five minutes, we're going to be wiping off that canvas!" Perhaps he came ringing a little bell. She maybe even sang a song about it while traipsing around the room and perhaps he's also dimmed the lights to, you, know, set the ambiance or pace.

Imagine you have just finished typing a 24 page research paper on your computer. You spent hours pondering your topic. You took multiple trips to the library finding books. You spent weeks drafting, editing and rewriting. You are almost done. And a prompt pops up on your screen. "Click DELETE ALL to Clean Up This Mess!" There is only one button; it serves only that function.

Imagine you have spent the afternoon baking an apple pie from scratch. You rolled the dough, you peeled and sliced the apples, you even made several tiny apple shapes out of pie crust to decorate the top. You baked it to golden, buttery perfection; you can't wait to dig into it later and share this act of labor and love with your family. And a timer goes off. Time to clean up this mess and return all of those ingredients to their proper space! Put the flour back in the bag, the butter back in the fridge. Put those eggs back in their shells and return the peels to those apples. Cinnamon goes in the spice jar. That's not where the baking powder belongs... Bit by bit, bite by bite, your pie is returned to its original form: a bag of flour, a pack of butter, a carton of eggs, a bushel of red, ripe apples...

It would feel completely unsettling and disorienting to see our "work" dismantled in this way. We would feel an enormous sense of loss and violation. And if it happened repeatedly multiple times each and every day? We would probably intuit that our work has little value or meaning to begin with. Why, when we know that play is the work of the child, do we expect them to feel differently when we frolic over to their work space, waving a colorful ribbon wand in the air and gleefully singing "I looked at my watch and what did it say? It's time to put the toys away!"

I've seen it (and probably done it) all:
It's too heavy. I'm too tired. I have to go to the bathroom. I can't do it by myself. But I'm not done! I don't want to clean up!

And then, the battle ensues. Do we give up? Do we give in? Do we take away privileges or toys? Do we offer praise or rewards? Do we shrug it off, avert our eyes and sweep in with the toy bin or even the trash bag later on when they're finally out of the room or asleep?

Why is clean up time always a battle? From avoidance to bargaining to denial and outright shouting matches, clean up time has been a state of chaos for generation upon generation. Here are some thoughts to consider:

• Associations with Transition: Clean up time is often associated with a transition. We must clean up because we're doing _____ now. Perhaps ____ is a desired activity (like going on a trip or playing outside) or, perhaps it is not (like going to bed or running an errand). Either way, it is an outside source placing parameters around time and ownership of it. You are done because I said you are done. Whether or not you are done...
• Associations with Value of Work: He sees the rug as his canvas. The blocks and loose parts strewn across it are his paint strokes. This resembles a pig sty to you; to him it is a masterpiece. When you ask him to clean up his toys, you are placing your measure of value over his. You see it is toys--playthings, objects that have a proper place and function. He sees it as a work of art and the toys were the medium by which he expressed it. To you, they are transient--their function is to entertain and then return to the shelf. To him, they were meant to be permanent (or at least last a bit longer). They were part of his masterpiece meant to invoke wonder and curiosity and joy. To you, they are beautiful when they are neatly displayed on the toy shelf. To him, they were beautiful when strewn across the rug. 
• Ownership of Pace: When it is play time, we don't walk around the room urging children to hurry up and play faster. Why then, do we feel justified in walking around the room urging children to clean up faster?
• Ownership of Space: In play, children own their space. They have freedom to decide on the function, position and purpose of toys and materials. They run the show, they navigate the ship, they claim the land. At clean up time, all of a sudden (ok, maybe after a 5 minute warning), the space, the show, the ship and the land return to us as we request and require that they return to the toy bin.

  

  I'm enough of a nerd about play to be super
  excited when Y is demonstrating the developmental
  play schema to line things up. But how will I respond
  when it's time to clean up? Will I still honor his work of
  art and design or does it belong in the bowl on the shelf?

And so we can see some of the factors that play into making clean up time more difficult. Play belongs to the child. But the value of it, the time frame, the space in which it occurs and ceases to occur all belongs to us, the adult. Add to that our frequent encouragements and requests that both of these elements be done independently. We want our children to play independently and navigate that process on their own. We value their ability to engage and remain engaged. And then, suddenly, simultaneously, we devalue it and diminish it. Now it must stop. Now it is over. Now they must independently engage and remain engaged in dismantling, disassembling and destroying everything they spent the last hour breathing into existence. Not exactly an ideal scenario when you think about it that way. 

Imagine if some other entity had gone to G-d back in the time of Creation and said:

Other Entity: "G-d, this is great! You did a wonderful job making light and darkness, the heavens and the seas, the vegetation and the fish and birds and the planets and the sun and the stars and the moon... And the animals? The people? The Sabbath? It's incredible! I love it! And what's most impressive? You didn't need my help! I didn't have to give You my input or my attention or anything at all--You did this all on Your own. So now, I am sure it will come as neither a surprise nor an inconvenience that I'd also like You to quickly and quietly put this all back where it belongs without my input, attention or anything at all. All on Your own."

G-d: "But Other Entity, I wasn't done! I want to keep using this! It's better this way. Before, it was just chaos."

Other Entity: "Oh, G-d, silly G-d. Everything has a place and those stars and planets belong on the bottom left of the middle shelf. You know, if You'd practice a little thing my Mommy called CAYG, Clean As You Go and put the sheep away before You took out Adam and Eve, this would be a lot easier..."

OK, so that's an extreme example. We cannot realistically live and function in shared spaces where things are never cleaned up and put away, whether that is at home or in a classroom. We also cannot realistically eliminate the need to transition from one activity to another at specific times. Every person has a different threshold for containing "the mess" and every person has to decide in their space what that looks like. Here are a few ideas to consider and from there you can test and tinker with what works for you and the individuals in your space:

• Can There Be a Space for Works in Progress? Frequently children in my care (and home) will ask if I can save a building or playdough sculpture or activity for them. When I can , I try to allow for a space where these can remain. Sometimes children do return to this. Sometimes they don't. Either way, it conveys a message of value in their work and their ownership of their time and environment. I do, in those instances, still ask my kids to put away the parts or at least organize the parts that are not currently in use.
• Documentation: When a child is particularly attached to a structure or temporary creation that cannot be saved past a particular time, I offer an option of documentation. Children can take a photo of their work or with their work. S and I have actually been stocking up on photos of block buildings for a "Blueprints Book." They can draw their work on paper. They can write directions on how to build a building again. They can write, dictate or draw a reminder on a sticky note that they would like to do this activity when we get back or first thing in the morning, etc.
• Engage and Include Them In the Process: When it comes to sharing a space and keeping it functional for everyone, it's important to take into consideration everyone's view and vision. Invite every member of your living or learning space to include input and ideas for how things might be kept in between use. Everything has a place where it belongs, but perhaps we can engage and include children in that arrangement. There may be a reason a child is more reluctant to put an item in a particular spot. Perhaps a heavier basket of blocks is difficult to return to a high shelf. Or maybe it feels more comforting to have a favorite doll visible in the dramatic play area than stuffed away in a basket. Asking questions and inviting children to the process of arranging your classroom or playroom setup is a great way to empower them in the process of play (and cleanup) and it doesn't mean you have to always say yes. You can offer choices and alternatives that work for everyone.
• Name it: And when the unavoidable task is daunting but still necessary, sometimes just naming the feeling helps to shrink it (and the associated task) back down to manageable size. "You feel really rushed right now and you wish you could have more time with your play." "It's really hard to be done when you don't feel done." "It feels really hard and the job feels really big. Let's work together and decide what to do first."
• Did You Remember to Teach the Full Lesson? One of the things I think we often forget and neglect as parents and educators is to teach the full lesson of our play and learning space. We are thoughtful and intentional in how we set up the room. We might also give direct lessons on how to use items and materials around the space. But did we also teach and show our children how and where to put things away? Pictures and labels can be helpful in some environments, and physically carrying out a lesson in carrying a toy back to its location can go a huge distance in promoting independence for children to navigate their time and work in this space from start to finish. It can potentially reduce some of the challenge of cleaning up, particularly if some of it arises from not knowing how to put the things away.
• Give Choices and Tools for Cleanup: We've all been there. The sink is overflowing with dishes. The hampers have exploded Mount Washmore onto every surface of the bedroom and beyond. The task at hand is daunting. To a degree, however, we have choices and tools. I have a sponge and dish soap. I have a washer and dryer. I have a husband who helps! I can choose to fold the laundry with him while we watch a show. I can choose to do the dairy dishes and he does the meat. Given adequate choices and tools, cleanup tasks can feel a little less daunting. Sometimes I get creative with kids. Mr. Munch the Block Basket is very hungry and he wants to eat all of the red blocks first. A sensory table is a great place to hang and store a dust pan and dust brush. Children often love the tasks of sweeping, washing, wiping and using just about any type of "real" adult tool (and child-sized versions are readily available). They may need some direction in how to use these items, but given the right tools for the job, they can and often love to help. 
• Keeping Expectations in Check: And I think it is also important to be reasonable in expectations. Sometimes that means asking my 2 year old to pick up 2 toys or my 4 year old to pick up 4 toys at the library before it's time to leave. Sometimes that means providing a reminder in play time that it is sometimes easier to work in a space that is free from clutter of toys and materials not currently in use or that the task at the end of our time in a play area may feel less overwhelming if we clean a bit as we go and shift from activity to activity. I do generally make that a choice in our home--you can clean up the window blocks now to make room for the magnetiles or we can put it all away at the very end. If my kids are literally stepping on and tripping over things to the detriment of the toys themselves and their own tiny toes, we do take a break to reorganize/rearrange. There are days that we are all amazing contributors and helpers in this house. Everyone works together, everyone does their share. At the end of the night, everything is put in place. Other days, not so much. Maybe my husband does more of the laundry and dishes these days. Maybe we both sometimes end up cleaning up the play area once the kids are asleep. The point is not to strive for perfection but rather to be open-minded to making things work well in the environment we all share as much as possible. This means that we revisit, re-evaluate and sometimes restructure.
• Keeping Quantities in Check: I'm great about this in our downstairs spaces and even outdoors. I do a lot of toy rotation and we keep our shelves and spaces minimally but adequately stocked. The kids play more functionally that way and we can all manage the space more easily during and after play times. Upstairs in their room? Not so great. I finally managed to just put bins and baskets on the shelves for all the toys and trinkets to be stored in, but let's just say that nearly every day during his "nap time," a certain Y gets out of bed and busy dumping, strewing about and redesigning these objects across the floor and beds into what I can only humorously call with tongue in cheek, "Play Residue!"

So I'm not quite there yet where I can fully let go of a need to control the space I call our home. I can't stand messes and for better or for worse, I know this anxiety of mine stems from how others in my life portrayed the word "mess." I also see how that anxiety spilled onto S early in our lives together. The first time he threw up, he was not upset or scared about the icky feeling or pain; he was worried about the "mess." Y bids us farewell from his bed each night and nap time with a reminder (seemingly to himself) to "No make mess!" I can't live in filth and for our safety and sanity I do need to somewhat manage the clutter. But I can strive to see things through another lens--through my children's eyes--that what might look like mess to me could be a masterpiece in progress to them. We will probably always be navigating this challenge in one way or another and in between those moments of problem solving, pondering, revisiting and re-framing, we will also always be happily playing! That is their work and therefore it is also mine.

Happy Playing!

Mad Science Monday, Pesach Edition: Digging in the Desert STEM Challenge

 The days preceding Pesach are a time of cleaning out cupboards, kitchens, refrigerators and freezers in many Jewish homes around the world. My boys have eaten more cereal and french fries in the past week than they have over the course of the entire year! They are quite pleased with this. I have such a pet peeve for food waste and it is painful to just "throw things out" that we won't use. I did, admittedly, throw out the boys' snow balls that I rediscovered in the back of the freezer from January! And while many are hesitant toward using food products in play for a variety of personal, cultural and/or allergy reasons, I think there are times when a shot at life in a sensory table is better than a shot across the room into the trash barrel. So the good news? We used up the flour and the bottle of baby oil that had been in our medicine cabinet since Y was born so I could get the sticky goo off my skin from the bandage over my c-Section wound! And, we made our own sand dough. 
I would admonish that this is a messy activity more suited for outdoor use (which is what we did) or indoor use when you are not trying to clean your homes of chametz before Pesach. The recipe for sand dough is incredibly simple:

Ingredients:
8 cups all purpose flour
1 cup baby oil

I will say that I did not measure my ingredients at all even given the ratio of the original recipe. I honestly just dumped 2 opened bags of flour into our sensory table bin and subsequently emptied the remaining contents of the bottle of baby oil we had. On its own, the dough was a bit crumbly and powdery but when squeezed between the hands or molded into ice cube trays, cups and even mega blocks, it held together to make shapes and bricks that the boys could use to build.

It is perfect for sand castles, igloos and even pyramids. Why, oh why, do we still teach our children that the Jewish people enslaved in Egypt were forced to build the pyramids?! Oh gosh, I don't know. Historical timelines show this to be impossible and the liturgy itself states that the Jewish people were building warehouses for Pharoah, not pyramids. Nonetheless, pyramid building brings forth a fascinating geometrical and engineering challenge for little ones and so we continue...

S and Y were so excited to get outside and dig in our desert! They have grown accustomed to a new routine of waking up from afternoon rest time, eating a quick dinner and bolting out the front or back door. They both ran right over to the sensory table and began to dig, fill, shape and mold the dough. I set up the bin quite simply at first, with just a couple of shovels, ice cube trays, some mega blocks and a little fisher price construction worker. We have added some less played with toys from indoors into our backyard setup so that they can take on new life and function while I try to function at keeping our garden alive this season. The boys LOVE using mega blocks, construction trucks, dinosaurs and little people outside now! And they had just as much fun using them in our sand dough table as well.

I overheard S singing a popular Pesach children's song as he played:
Dig, dig, dig, dig your shovel deep
Dig, dig, dig, there's no time for sleep
For it's work, work, work,
Every day and every night
For it's work, work, work
When it's dark and when it's light.

He added that he was very "happy to be working." And then he took to calling me Pharoah instead of Mommy. I'm taking this as an overall compliment, I think...

This was such a fun activity that since the weather was predicted to remain dry, I decided to cover our sensory bin with a trash bag overnight and leave it for the boys to play with again.

Getting outside is such a natural way to incorporate science into your play and learning routine. STEM challenges, sensory play and nature exploration in and of itself all promote skills in engineering, observation, experimentation and critical thinking. The boys? Well, they mostly think they're playing and they are having a great time! So whether you are looking to empty those last bags of flour (and I'm banking that you could probably also use another type of oil) or whether you will save this one in the vault for after Pesach and build a backyard beach and sand castle, homemade sand dough is an easy and cost effective way to build, learn and play before Pesach and all year round!

Happy Working Playing!

Bonus Post: Outdoor Classrooms as an Inclusive and Accessible Space

I recently gave an interview with a fellow nature educator and the incredible mind behind the website Outdoor-Classrooms and over the course of the conversation got on the topic of nature-based classrooms as an inclusive and accessible space. I've put together a three part series here on building your own outdoor classroom, whether at home, in a school setting or even on the go. I've touched upon a variety of reasons I am so passionate about outdoor play--an area of childhood development that I feel has been hijacked by adults at best and completely neglected at worst. Those who know my professional background know that I also have a passion for inclusive and accessible classrooms and learning spaces.

My classroom teaching experience has provided me with a multitude of opportunities to see and facilitate inclusive classrooms in action. Teaching under the traditional inclusion model, I learned that my own personal ideal was not always ideal for the students in my care. I firmly believe that educational opportunities should be readily available to all children regardless of ability and/or disAbility. I also firmly believe that all classrooms function best when everyone in them is able to access these educational opportunities. In some settings, the "inclusion model" was functioning well to serve this purpose most of the time. In others, it was not.

Through these experiences, I also came to reframe my own concept of what inclusion looked like. Whereas my lens had previously been focused on integrating and eliminating visible lines between "typical" models and peers with "special needs," I came to feel strongly that a well functioning classroom community was not necessarily about making these boundaries disappear but rather recognizing the unique needs and the common needs of each individual in their environment. Meanwhile, I also noticed a common trend among all children: a significant decline in play skills. Teaching pro-social behavior through play was no longer something I did for children specifically on an educational plan, it was an area of deficit for nearly all my students.

And this extended to the playground. Whereas just about 5 years beforehand most of my students begged to go outdoors and were immediately and consistently engaged, now my students maybe still begged to go outdoors but were quickly disengaged, engaged only in repetitive play schemas (particularly scripted re-enactments of television shows or movies) or even asking to go inside and complaining of boredom. I attributed this play deficit to a lot of potential factors including (but not limited to) an increase in technology/screens, an increase in helicopter parenting and teaching, an increase in focus on "academics" earlier on and a correlating decrease in open ended toys and child led play opportunities. And when it came to the physical layout of classrooms and outdoor spaces, even the toy aisles in stores--things had changed as well. There were more and more single-function, brightly colored, noisy and battery operated materials that encouraged various developmental skills but not a whole lot of movement.

Areas intended for movement also changed. Outdoor nature spaces as well as indoor gross motor spaces were fit with colorful plastic playground equipment and while I certainly value swings, slides, ladders and monkey bars, they also serve only a limited set of functions. But one thing remained consistently true: given the same amount of time in an indoor gross motor space as an outdoor one, children outdoors eventually engaged in some sort of meaningful play activity whereas indoors, many would literally just run in repetitive circles. And cognitive, social and/or developmental differences that seemed blatantly visible inside of a classroom setting or even an indoor gym were almost invisible outdoors.

Here are a few anecdotal examples:

The Garden of Eatin':
In one of my first years as a lead teacher I taught in an inclusive Pre-K classroom with a high ratio of very aggressive and energetic boys. We had four adults to 12 children and many parts of most days still felt like a battle to merely survive. Indoors we had a divide and conquer mentality. Group times were all about location and proximity to key players. Teaching in a climate with a cold winter meant that we were often indoors for the duration of the day--a whopping 9 hours for some children. We had a gross motor room and even the addition of new (and expensive) play equipment didn't seem to change the amount of spinning, stimming, running in circles and disengagement of most or even all of my students on some occasions. These kids needed to be outside and I, being the teacher who got outside no matter what, was often the one who would gladly take them regardless of the elements. There was a lot of running involved and a lot of space; in related news, I lost 25lbs that year. The kids were all over the place, but they were all engaged in meaningful play activities even if it took a chunk of time (and physical space) for that to begin and looked different from child to child.
A teacher in another classroom had a garden she worked on with her students each year and one day, in the early spring, she invited my class to come work in her garden. I was honestly a little intimidated. This was her brain child and she was truly epic in her time--the hipster of outdoor teaching if ever there was one! The garden space was adequate, but small and I wondered what would happen when I released 12 very active students into this space, some of whom had probably never seen a garden up close before. Not a lot of the other teachers were running to volunteer to join us on our visit, so I entered those gates with my kids in trepidation. And an amazing thing happened out there. It became almost silent. The students were all crouched low, shovels in hands, pulling weeds, discovering worms and roley poleys and lettuce that had overwintered and returned. And you would never have been able to tell for even a moment "who was who." Students on the autism spectrum, students with medical needs, students with backgrounds of trauma and "typical peer models" all looked exactly the same working in the garden.

Line Up: In another classroom, I had a student who had various learning and processing difficulties. In the classroom, he struggled with impulse control particularly in instances when his ideas and emotions would precede his ability to verbalize them. For instance, he might not immediately think to use words to ask a friend to play but rather hit the boy he desired to play with. He thrived with verbal support, a calm environment and time and space to process. He had a strong need for organization and also for large body movement and heavy lifting. Inside, this may have been portrayed by disruptive behaviors at group times when a number on the calendar was upside down. He might struggle with the compulsive desire to move our classroom furniture (sometimes rather aggressively). He struggled within a small indoor space to move his physical body in ways that were not destructive to his peers' play or their physical bodies at times. And in his play, he loved to organize things and line them up.
Indoors, these tendencies stuck out like a sore thumb. Peers often talked about his behaviors or avoided him altogether at times. But outside, something incredible would happen. Every day, this boy would bypass the bikes, bypass the playground structure, bypass the shovels and pales and even the swings and head right for a collection of plastic chairs, tables, push toys, riding toys and other similar sized objects/equipment. He would begin to lift them, move them and line them up. For the longest time, teachers asked him to stop. They gave him other things to play with, had him sit out at times, you name it--anything to stop the repeated process. And one day, I asked why? Why did we need him to stop moving the furniture and equipment? And so one day, I asked the teachers not to disallow it, but rather to observe with me. And we noticed that as he lined up chairs and tables and other items, that other children were also joining in. Sometimes it was a train. Sometimes it was a plane. Sometimes it was a restaurant or an ice cream shop. Sometimes it was a tower or skyscraper. And maybe the intended "purpose" of a chair was not to be a building block, but why, in the safety of enough space and support, could it not be used as such?  Instead of being the kid who other children avoided or asked questions about, he was now the leader of a plethora of outdoor games and activities. His peers sought him and couldn't wait for the day's adventure.

Eye Contact and Nature Contact: In yet another year of teaching, I had a very small class with very close knit families. The students all had pretty long term relationships with one another and their families did as well. Even in this small group, there were unique personalities and learning differences. One student in particular had increasingly visible difficulties with focus, attention and certain social/play skills. As his peers grew to engage in joined schemas of symbolic play, he remained very literal in his play. A block was always a block, never a telephone. As his peers grew to naturally move through routine and repeated classroom and self care tasks, he struggled to remember to get up from his chair and move on to the next activity or how to organize and dress himself in outerwear. He was incredibly bright and soaked up information like a sponge, even if he was staring out the window tracking a ball being thrown back and forth during Circle Time.
Visual tracking is visual tracking, and he was also successful at tracking words on a page earlier on than most peers. He did, however, struggle with making eye contact and given the choice to play and engage with others or independently, always chose to remain alone and watch his peers at play. He would take out a Montessori work mat just like his peers. He would set up a toy, activity or learning material on it, just like his peers. But he would not actually use what was in front of him. A puzzle might remain in the box with the cover on the entire time if no adults intervened with support. Rather, he would watch his peers engaged in their activities. Sometimes, he would scoot closer to them. He never asked to join in an activity and even when prompted, still had no interest in joining. At almost 5 years old, he was still engaging only in parallel play, developmentally typical of children several years younger. More and more his peers noticed and spoke about some of his quirks. He compensated by acting silly or saying "I forgot" but indoors it became increasingly obvious that his focus, attention and gaze were different in many ways from his peers'.
He loved to go outside. In fact, he couldn't wait to get out there every day. Even so, he would always be the last one ready and needed continuous and consistent support to get his outerwear on and line up with his classmates. Many times, he also needed a quiet space to carry out these tasks so as not to be distracted by movement or noise in the classroom. In transit, his eyes were rarely on the space in front of him and he might wander off or bump into someone/something directly in front of him. On the playground, he did somewhat engage in play. He enjoyed climbing and even sometimes copied or mimicked play behaviors of his friends. They continued to invite him into their games and while he couldn't adapt a stick to be a magic wand, he could repeat Batman's line verbatim the first time he heard it. One day, it was rather rainy. Not necessarily a great day for our playground, but a perfect day for what I called a duck waddle. As we filed out of the front door and waddled down the sidewalk, quacking, I heard our little friend call "Stop! I see something!" He'd found a garden snail on the front step that none of the rest of us has even noticed. This little boy who struggled to focus, to tune in (or tune out) and even to make eye contact was the only one in the group who discovered the snail. His peers were enthralled and everyone spent the remainder of the walk honing in on the ground to see what we might discover along the way...

Playing in the field levels the playing field. When children (and adults for that matter) encounter nature, something phenomenal occurs. Our experience outdoors is so unique and so individual that there is an inherent shift of focus from "standards" and "norms" toward commonalities and a shared sense of wonder. Those who indoors might be more active may be more reflective outside. Those who are not as confident in organized athletics might be more confident exploring the boundaries of a rocky terrain or climbing a tree. I, for instance, was a child with low muscle tone who was quite prone to falling and not at all coordinated with a ball, a bat or even a jungle gym. I lacked the confidence to play most sports games and felt intense anxiety over the performance aspects of gym class. In my own backyard, I climbed a Japanese maple tree and stood on a plastic saucer trying to ski down the snow covered hill in the winter. I had little to no risk aversion in my own backyard when I could navigate when and how to try things but intense aversion to climbing any higher than the second rung of the monkey bar ladder on the playground.

Indeed, the children who may be more likely to "follow" indoors often emerge as leaders outdoors. Children with strong language skills, observational skills and interests in science thrive outdoors even while these may be less sought after traits on the basketball court or in the playroom. And when it comes to setting up an outdoor classroom versus an indoor one in a manner that is inclusive and accessible, the work is almost always already done for us by Mother Nature herself. Abundant in loose parts and opportunities for discovery and learning, very little needs to be added to an outdoor space. Physical accessibility is an area of challenge in many buildings and often less so outdoors where spaces are open and surfaces are varied. Additionally, gaps in ability to navigate the variety of terrains and surfaces are a shared experience by all based not just on whether or not a person has a "diagnosed disability," but rather also on age, experience, confidence level, interest, etc. Children can play "differently" and simultaneously and not be "different" in doing so. Everyone is having a novel experience outdoors. Everyone is discovering something for the first time. Everyone is working toward an independent goal and everyone can share in the wonder.
When we look at the benefits to health and well being of all children in open ended outdoor play, it really brings forth the question of why this is something we are limiting and eliminating in our education model. In a tireless effort to knock down walls and barriers, we are building more walls and more barriers. Our spaces for learning and discovery are getting smaller and smaller and smaller. A friend of mine who is very active in the world of advocacy for disAbility awareness and inclusion once said that being inclusive is not about treating everyone the same, but rather about treating everyone differently. It sounds odd, but when you reflect on it for a moment, it makes sense. Our education model and even our current models of inclusion are often about erasing those differences or attempting to make them "less visible." But what if instead of forcing a square peg into a round hole, we allowed a space for both? Outdoor classrooms and natural environments provide a space completely uninhibited by walls (or a roof for that matter). Pace, space and purpose are accessible to all and everyone can engage in happy playing!