Thursday, August 29, 2019

Get Outside ANYWAY: Balancing Caution and Confidence, Part 2

After completing my post on Part 1 of Balancing Caution and Confidence , I had one more question for my Facebook Hive-mind: What kind of outdoor leader are you? Are you a hovering helicopter or a free-range adventurist?
The responses spanned the nation, life stage, came from both females and males and included a variety of career, geographical, and social backgrounds. I particularly loved the response below from one friend of mine who is a mother of children ranging from school aged to adulthood and now a grandmother as well.

" I live in Alaska. I am a city slicker by nature and a helicopter parent when it comes to little kids outside... But I have been careful to not instill in them a sense of fear. One of them, my most princess-y of all daughters is now a United States Marine! Another one is an agriculture teacher in the wilds of Tennessee. Several do triathlons. One of my sons is a distance runner. They did not get this way because I made them fearful! I made them aware.

I tell you all of this because you can be cautious while not creating fear. I suppose that I was more of a scout of a parent? I would come up with projects to teach the kids. All the while being aware and telling them why we needed to make noise. We would play games, what would we do if we saw a bear? What would we do if we saw a baby moose in front of us and realized that the momma moose was behind us? O look! Cow parsnip-- this is why we wear pants and long socks!"

You can be cautious without creating fear is probably a line that will follow me into the woods with my kids forever more!

Here were some of the other responses:

" Free range constantly borderline crazy but the creativity from my boys has been awesome- homemade zip line/ self made tree house they take great chances and succeed."

"Free range for sure. I want my kids to explore and discover the world with freedom. As long as they’re in the gate and I’ve got an eye out."

"Free range. "Please don't come to me unless you're bleeding."

"5 kids ago, I was a Class A hoverer! I’ve gotten older, more mellow - and more tired - now. And the twins definitely benefit from my (slightly!) more free range-ish style."

"Free rangish. Within reason today kids had to wear life vests when on boat, or know how to recognize poison ivy, etc."

"Free range. 
First rule of boys is: don't look."

"If its a contained field free range, if not I hover."--the mom....and the dad: "I mean sometimes we need to use leashes and tranq guns but we are raising a shark, a bear, a cat, and a lion"

" Free range unless we are in an unknown place where I don't know all the potential dangers, then I hover but at a distance."

" Free range! If you don’t fall you don’t learn and grow."

Here's what I take away from it: two categories was not enough. I am personally a Distant Hoverer. I feel best being vigilant from afar. And while we must travel light on the trail, it's important to carry with us an adequate supply of caution and sense of humor. Those most prone toward hovering still see and value the importance of outdoor play being an opportunity for space, trial and error, problem solving and confidence/competence building. And those most prone toward standing back and enjoying the show still take precautions whether it's protective gear, a vigilant eye, an enclosed area or the ability and knowledge to identify potential dangers in nature. And another very important idea surfaced: how does our own behavior and demeanor outdoors affect the children in our care?

The Darker Side of Caution: Fear
Everyone is afraid of something. Some of us are afraid of many things! When it comes to children, fears are a natural part of development. Some are longer lived than others. Some are "logical." Some are not. Some can be explained or experienced away. Others may last a lifetime. I asked the group to tap in on their own children's fears outdoors:

"My kids now? The 16 yo who wants to be a doctor rages, "You really need a concealed weapons permit if we are out here. What if we see a bear?" (I give my kids my keys. They just need to run faster than me. We go to peopled areas, low risk, but I think ahead.)

When they were all younger, they were loud, "WHAT DO WE DO IF WE SEE A BEAR? HAHAHAHA! I'D RUN LIKE THIS... [demo maniacal run]"

"I JUST NEED TO RUN FASTER THAT ALL OF YOU AND I AM! HAHA"

We spoke of real scenarios and all but one, the one who wants to repair people, handled their fears with humour. (They were so loud the wild life would leave us alone.)

We spoke of dangers of hypothermia and they stayed away from going more that 5 steps into lakes, and were just intelligent on bridges, etc., and we stuck together."


"Bugs and dogs not on leashes."

"Bees are really their only fear. We have taught them how to calmly walk away and that only wasps are the ones to really fear and that honey and bumblebees are our friends. Considering bees are a huge fear of mine that is one I struggle with as well."

Childhood fears evolve and fluctuate throughout life. Some are developed through experience, some through lack of experience, some through exposure and some inherited (whether by nature, nurture, or a combination of the two). 

Both S and Y have their own fears. Some come and go quickly and some last a while. S used to be very afraid of dogs and now is far less so. Y is not afraid of dogs and needs to be reminded he must ask before he pets one. Y sometimes fears uneven terrain outdoors, likely because his vision makes it harder to navigate. Nonetheless, he is very creative in navigating these spaces and while at times he may cry and ask to hold a hand, other times, he will crouch and bend his knees and bounce his way down a slippery and muddy hill independently. 

S has grown into quite the young naturalist. He is wholly himself outdoors. And while he is prone to more of a nervous nature overall, outside is usually a place that inspires self confidence. So a few weeks ago when some sort of bug crawled up his shirt and supposedly bit his tummy (I looked and saw an ant but not evidence of a bite), and he became paralyzed with fear and wanted to leave the park, I was ready to support him but also concerned about his response. We sat together, took deep breaths, talked and sometimes just sat in silence. Again and again as he thought about the incident, he would become overwhelmed again with fear at just remembering it. 

I am cautious in my language about fear with children. I do not like the words "that's not scary" or "don't be scared" when talking to children about fear. For them, in this moment, it is scary and they are scared. S once coined the phrase "I'm scared and brave," and it's one we still use. The language use is "it feels very scary and you are safe." We did eventually make our way home from the park. S later wanted to talk about the ant and he began to refer to it (and still does) as "The Bug That Surprised Me."

Fast forward to the following week when we attended a group hike with our local chapter of Free Forest School. S, who had been in several outdoor locations since The Bug That Surprised Him suddenly remembered the incident while we were there and decided he felt safest to stand on our picnic blanket. And not move. Maybe not even ever. Again, I tried not to be reactive to this. The mom in me felt so sad for the level of loss he would experience if he truly stopped being able to be outside and feel secure. And the child still in me also knew that fears come and fears go and right now S was safe on the dinosaur blanket, but he would somehow, someday get off and keep going. And sure enough that day came on the same day at about noon when it was time for us to go. S didn't want to get off the blanket. He didn't want to walk back. (He didn't see the ants crawling on the blanket either, phew!) So I held his hand to step off the blanket as I shook it out and folded it up. And we started to walk back. He wanted to go slowly, I said that was fine. And slowly, slowly we walked. He was scared. He had to stop a lot. Y was picking up on the fear signals and also started crying. And I started singing a little scavenger hunt on our walk, wearing C, lamenting the sweat dripping into my eyes and hoping my own parental angst wasn't pouring out with it.

We found a brown leaf. A green leaf. A big rock. A little stick. We talked about cold, hard facts and evidence. Yes, there was a Bug That Surprised You at the park last week. But this is not that park. And we also went to that park a number of other times and no Surprising Bugs happened at those times. The bug was surprising and it was scary and remembering something scary can make you feel scared all over again. You are safe. I am here and look, what do you know, we made it to the car!

I didn't go on and on about how proud I was of him (I was, though, because honestly if anyone could stand on a dinosaur blanket maybe forever, it would be S), but I did point out that he seemed pretty proud of himself. And in the car on our drive back, we talked some more about the best way to feel better about feeling afraid: get confident. Confidence comes when we try something that feels really hard and experience success. That day, confidence came when S experienced a really hard emotion and walked right through it. And one week later, he went back to Forest School, got off that blanket, into the creek and squealed so loudly with joy and pride it literally echoed through the forest.

I am a big believer in being honest with children. I'm not the one to say a shot won't hurt or that it won't hurt to take a splinter out. I'm not going to tell them that bugs never bite or that there's no poison ivy in the woods. Honesty is important. I am also a human who carries her own fears, both rational and irrational. One of my greatest worries is that I will impart my worries onto my kids! It is an area of constant vigilance, awareness and growth for me. I talk to my kids about the things I used to be afraid of and am no longer. I find it a little harder to talk to them about the things I'm still afraid of or newly afraid of. 

And yet, being outdoors with my children has provided a venue where we can all stretch out of those comfort zones. Risky play is all about navigating those boundaries of being just a little bit scared and still being safe. And while getting out there is half the battle, the narrative we build around these experiences also matters greatly. Every person's threshold is different. There's no right ratio of helicoptering to free-ranging and truly these are extremes we need to constantly assess and balance again and again, whether it's over the course of a year or even a day. We do need to be cautious; we do not need to be afraid. We do want opportunities for building competence in outdoor experience because we know that this builds confidence in all areas of life, in and outside four walls and a roof. The language we use, the energy we impart, the reactions we have--all matter. Most children inherently have good "risk assessment" skills and won't try something that is beyond their comfort (ergo ability) level. Some will. Know your audience. Know their boundaries and limitations and know your own. More and more I try to build a narrative around outdoor play for my own children and myself and even for the friends and families we meet with in my nature based playgroup that is positive and encouraging. It takes effort to learn a new language, but I love some of the phrases in this list from Backwoods Mama. Fostering awareness and building problem solving skills are lifelong processes; the outdoors is a fabulous venue for working on it.

I have a saying when it comes to my experiences outdoors (and inside for that matter) with my kids: Different day, different adventure. One benefit to visiting the same outdoor spaces again and again is the ability to see that in action. My own sense of balance when it comes to caution and confidence is a work in progress. It is my hope that this makes me more compassionate and patient as my children navigate this as well. 

So different day, different adventure. What will you do differently tomorrow or the next time you head outside with kids? What works well for you now? How did your own early experiences build the narrative that follows you today as you hit the trail and how will your own narrative shape that of your children's? What would you change? What would you keep the same? One thing is for sure, I'll be outside ANYWAY and you can find me hovering from a distance...

Happy Playing!




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