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naomikritzerI read Last Child in the Woods: Saving Our Children from Nature Deficit Disorder last week. I'd probably have read it when it first came out except that the term "nature-deficit disorder" put me off. (Does everything have to be a disease? Good grief.) But I'd heard good things about it, and when I saw it at the library I checked it out.
Louv's point is pretty straightforward: kids need to spend a lot of time outside, they specifically need to have lots of opportunities for unstructured play in a natural setting (by which he means, woods and creeks and prairies rather than playgrounds and mowed playing fields), and when they don't get this, bad stuff happens. Both to the health of the kids (when they don't spend time outside, their risk of depression skyrockets, along with other mental and physical health problems), to their education (their understanding of science is hampered when they've never spent time staring at an anthill and then poking it with a stick to see what happens, or picking wildflowers, or climbing trees), and to society at large (why fight to preserve an environment you've barely interacted with?)
He's a forceful and compelling writer, but the thing that struck home the most was that I was vividly reminded of how much I loved to play in natural areas as a kid. On the playground at Wingra School, there were two enormously overgrown yew bushes, which became houses and forts and all sorts of other things when we played in them at recess. My yard included a tree I could climb, and my house backed up against a railroad embankment with a fabulous wild area beyond (which I wasn't allowed to wander around alone as a young child, but did explore fairly thoroughly as a teen). I'm pretty good at getting Molly and Kiera outside, at least during the summer, but we usually go to a playground. Which I'm sure Louv would say is better than staying inside, but is not quite what he's talking about.
I had already resolved to try to explore the wilder parks around town a lot more this summer, and then, for extra encouragement, I picked up some "Adventure Logs" from REI on Sunday. The outdoor gear store equivalent of a library's summer reading program, the Adventure Logs include blanks to fill in for ten "adventures," with details like the weather, the distance traveled, and the kid's favorite parts. After their first adventure, the kids can tear out a postcard and send it in to REI and they'll get a whistle with a built-in compass or something nifty like that.
It's been raining for about the last two weeks, but today was gorgeous: blue sky, light breezes, warm but moderate temperatures. I told Kiera that after we picked Molly up at the bus stop, we were going to have an adventure.
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lyda222 and her son Mason joined us. We met up at Minnehaha Falls. If you've never seen the falls, go here to look at them right now. (And if you're local to me and yet have never seen them, you are a prime example of what Louv was talking about and you should be taking prompt steps to remedy your own case of nature-deficit disorder.) I love the falls year round: here's what they look like in winter. They are one of my favorite places in Minneapolis. (Also, if you've read War for the Oaks, the big faerie battle takes place along the creek below the falls, IIRC. Precisely where we wandered today.)
We walked down, took a minute to ogle the waterfall and examine the caterpillars, and then went for a hike along the trails that follow the creek at the bottom of the gorge. I didn't use the word "hike," because the girls are prejudiced against hikes; I just told them we'd find some cool places to play. And we did. First, we all scrambled up some big boulders nestled in the side of the gorge. Then we went over a bridge to go wading -- there is a specific spot in the creek where lots of kids wade in. Someone had for some reason carried one of the picnic tables out into the creek, and Molly waded out to climb up onto the picnic table, mostly drenching her shorts in the process. This was OK, as she's never minded walking around wet. (Kiera, by contrast, was irate about a wet hem -- I let her wear a sundress. One of my mental notes was to insist on shorts and a t-shirt next time we go on an adventure.)
We dried off and walked along the creek the rest of the way to the confluence of Minnehaha Creek and the Mississippi River. There's a neat little beach that has several trees with a tangle of exposed roots -- the land has eroded away, leaving the roots exposed to a degree that you can climb up and sit on them, or climb under them and pretend they're a house. There's also a small sand beach. I had brought along some art supplies and the girls painted pictures. Lyda built sand castles for Mason to stomp on; Kiera joined in. Molly built her own sand castle, and then borrowed one of my plastic containers to scoop water out of the Mississippi and add it to the moat. One of the exposed roots was just long and wide enough to make a really challenging exercise in balance for a seven-year-old. Molly decided to try it; it took about a dozen tries and a fall into the water, but she finally made it across.
When we left (later than Lyda and Mason, who needed to leave a bit earlier than we had to), we stopped off to explore a shallow sandstone cave -- there is a cliff face of extremely soft sandstone, and over the years people have carved out a shallow cave. The trail was muddy; at one point, Molly tried to jump over some mud, succeeded, but then slipped and fell into the creek. Molly very much wanted to go back to the rocks we'd climbed on earlier, because she wanted to explore a side trail; we climbed up, and discovered that we'd found a shortcut back to where we'd left the car.
It was thoroughly satisfying.
The girls filled in details in their little REI Adventure Log booklets after we got home. Molly's favorite part was falling into the creek.
Louv's point is pretty straightforward: kids need to spend a lot of time outside, they specifically need to have lots of opportunities for unstructured play in a natural setting (by which he means, woods and creeks and prairies rather than playgrounds and mowed playing fields), and when they don't get this, bad stuff happens. Both to the health of the kids (when they don't spend time outside, their risk of depression skyrockets, along with other mental and physical health problems), to their education (their understanding of science is hampered when they've never spent time staring at an anthill and then poking it with a stick to see what happens, or picking wildflowers, or climbing trees), and to society at large (why fight to preserve an environment you've barely interacted with?)
He's a forceful and compelling writer, but the thing that struck home the most was that I was vividly reminded of how much I loved to play in natural areas as a kid. On the playground at Wingra School, there were two enormously overgrown yew bushes, which became houses and forts and all sorts of other things when we played in them at recess. My yard included a tree I could climb, and my house backed up against a railroad embankment with a fabulous wild area beyond (which I wasn't allowed to wander around alone as a young child, but did explore fairly thoroughly as a teen). I'm pretty good at getting Molly and Kiera outside, at least during the summer, but we usually go to a playground. Which I'm sure Louv would say is better than staying inside, but is not quite what he's talking about.
I had already resolved to try to explore the wilder parks around town a lot more this summer, and then, for extra encouragement, I picked up some "Adventure Logs" from REI on Sunday. The outdoor gear store equivalent of a library's summer reading program, the Adventure Logs include blanks to fill in for ten "adventures," with details like the weather, the distance traveled, and the kid's favorite parts. After their first adventure, the kids can tear out a postcard and send it in to REI and they'll get a whistle with a built-in compass or something nifty like that.
It's been raining for about the last two weeks, but today was gorgeous: blue sky, light breezes, warm but moderate temperatures. I told Kiera that after we picked Molly up at the bus stop, we were going to have an adventure.
lyda222 and her son Mason joined us. We met up at Minnehaha Falls. If you've never seen the falls, go here to look at them right now. (And if you're local to me and yet have never seen them, you are a prime example of what Louv was talking about and you should be taking prompt steps to remedy your own case of nature-deficit disorder.) I love the falls year round: here's what they look like in winter. They are one of my favorite places in Minneapolis. (Also, if you've read War for the Oaks, the big faerie battle takes place along the creek below the falls, IIRC. Precisely where we wandered today.)We walked down, took a minute to ogle the waterfall and examine the caterpillars, and then went for a hike along the trails that follow the creek at the bottom of the gorge. I didn't use the word "hike," because the girls are prejudiced against hikes; I just told them we'd find some cool places to play. And we did. First, we all scrambled up some big boulders nestled in the side of the gorge. Then we went over a bridge to go wading -- there is a specific spot in the creek where lots of kids wade in. Someone had for some reason carried one of the picnic tables out into the creek, and Molly waded out to climb up onto the picnic table, mostly drenching her shorts in the process. This was OK, as she's never minded walking around wet. (Kiera, by contrast, was irate about a wet hem -- I let her wear a sundress. One of my mental notes was to insist on shorts and a t-shirt next time we go on an adventure.)
We dried off and walked along the creek the rest of the way to the confluence of Minnehaha Creek and the Mississippi River. There's a neat little beach that has several trees with a tangle of exposed roots -- the land has eroded away, leaving the roots exposed to a degree that you can climb up and sit on them, or climb under them and pretend they're a house. There's also a small sand beach. I had brought along some art supplies and the girls painted pictures. Lyda built sand castles for Mason to stomp on; Kiera joined in. Molly built her own sand castle, and then borrowed one of my plastic containers to scoop water out of the Mississippi and add it to the moat. One of the exposed roots was just long and wide enough to make a really challenging exercise in balance for a seven-year-old. Molly decided to try it; it took about a dozen tries and a fall into the water, but she finally made it across.
When we left (later than Lyda and Mason, who needed to leave a bit earlier than we had to), we stopped off to explore a shallow sandstone cave -- there is a cliff face of extremely soft sandstone, and over the years people have carved out a shallow cave. The trail was muddy; at one point, Molly tried to jump over some mud, succeeded, but then slipped and fell into the creek. Molly very much wanted to go back to the rocks we'd climbed on earlier, because she wanted to explore a side trail; we climbed up, and discovered that we'd found a shortcut back to where we'd left the car.
It was thoroughly satisfying.
The girls filled in details in their little REI Adventure Log booklets after we got home. Molly's favorite part was falling into the creek.
