Snow Pants.
Snow pants.
I’ve made it a New Year’s resolution to begin writing these again. There’s something about the art of a short missive that I, well, miss. I’ve also been fortunate enough to have quite a few longer-form pieces coming out over the next few months, and so I’ll use this space as an extension, expansion, of my thoughts and thinking. A place for ideas to be kneaded, to rest and rise before being baked fully or frozen, perhaps, for use in the future.
I wanted to write a little bit about experiences today, and how valuable novelty is for me at this moment in my practice. After all, even though I’m no longer in classrooms every single day, I do still consider myself an educator/teacher/whatever-you-call it.
Over the past week, on the heels of a whirlwind welcome tour for my book in New Orleans, I had the chance to visit two very special sites where I’ve been contracted to do some consulting work focused on gathering the voices of children. Never a small task, and never a complete one, it has altogether (as re-entering a preschool classroom always inevitably does) reinforced for me the idea that this is the work I feel most deeply called (if such a term is popular) to do. It’s messy, complicated, imprecise, and yet there is so much richness that I end my days head spinning with words, ideas, and possibility.
Everyone gets ready at their own pace.
It was also just great to be in a new place.
There were new children, new materials, new layouts, new ways of documenting and listening. There were new norms, new expectations, and new practicalities—the latter of which were, for me at least, some of the most intriguing.
In particular I’m thinking about snow pants and winter layers generally.
I’m no stranger to time outside—while once upon a time I’d have much rather stayed inside as much as I could, the past many years of working with and in nature-based settings have made me—not an expert, I would say, but definitely not a novice when it comes to getting children ready to go outside. However, I’d never done outdoor time, let alone a nature walk, with children in the winter in Canada.
Might getting ready be as much about the process as about being outside?
There is the slip of ice (terrifying for me, delightful for the children).
The crunch of snow (delightful for me, and it seems for the children).
There is the feeling of cold on your face and warmth all over the rest of your body.
There is the feeling of the little prick of air against your skin right at the very place where your mitten joins your arm.
It is new. It is exciting.
Oh, but back to snow pants.
I was helping some of the children get ready the other day before our walk into the forest.
And I realized I didn’t know that snow pants had to go on before a coat. Or that shoes needed to be taken off first. Or even that in snow, no matter what, you wear boots. In the Gulf South, on a cold rainy day, you needed water protection and layers, but not anything like this. It was a reminder for me not only of the fact that regardless of my experiences, I still have so much to learn.
I was reminded of the different childhoods that children are living, all around the world, in different climates and more. I was reminded that there is still so much more to see, to learn, to know, to figure out.
So many more voices to listen to and minds to collaborate with.
And I am so excited to do so.
Cheers,
Ron