Jan White Natural Play

Natural Play, Natural Growth, in the Early Years


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Celebrating Dandelions for Earth Day

Today is Earth Day and, inspired by Juliet Robertson’s recent post about celebrating it (thanks Juliet), I want to celebrate Britain’s best plant – the Dandelion.

Yesterday, after many gloomy and rain-filled days, the sun shone all day long.  As I drove to and from delivering some training at Early Excellence in Huddersfield, I passed verge after verge stuffed full of uncountable numbers of dancing dandelions, fully open and making the most of that lovely heat and light.  What a truly heart-lifting sight an expanse of dandelions is!  What stunning plants they are.  Why on earth do we have such a negative attitude to them, which we most likely pass on to our children?

I often sing the praises of dandelions as play materials on training courses, and have been eagerly waiting for Dandelion Season here in the UK.  I love all the spring flowers, especially primroses having grown up with coppiced woodlands full of them in Kent (mostly developed land now).  But my admiration and feelings for the humble dandelion have grown as I’ve become more aware of just what spectacular plants they are. 

Have you ever noticed how complex and beautiful they are?

Well, they are here now and, as it has been for the last few years, it’s a very good year for them again – and long may they stick around!  Why are they so wonderful?

Ÿ         The flower itself is highly complex and incredibly beautiful, with a dense central area and delicate outer rim; the green bracts on the underside are also lovely;

Ÿ         Their yellow colour is the most perfect yellow: strong, luscious and sunshine-filled (unlike the weak and sickly yellow of the acres of rape seed our country is now covered with at this time of year – have you noticed how it’s taking up residence into our verges too?)

Ÿ         If you feel the flower, especially with your cheeks or lips, it’s exquisitely soft and cool;

Ÿ         If you smell the flower, it’s revolting (apparently bees, ants and moths also like the early nectar source, but I guess this is to attract fly and beetles with different smell sensitivities to humans…)

Ÿ         The stem is long, waxy and curiously hollow, and allows great jewellery to be made;

Ÿ         The white sap from the end of the broken stem, which I was told as a child would make me wet the bed, is intensely bitter and sharp on the tongue, and therefore surely unlikely to make children who play with them wet the bed!  The French name for the plant pissenlit derives from the strongly diuretic roots (it’s also known as Dog’s Lettuce and Mole’s Salad) – I’m glad the more Norman name meaning lion’s teeth (dent de lion – from the shape of the leaves) made it into our language though.  It makes your fingers sticky and dirt-attracting and is hard to get off: fascinating stuff.

Foraging and collecting is an ancient drive so present still in children's play

Not only are dandelion flowers wonderful in themselves, there are also the obvious pleasures of the seeding stage with its exquisite structure and its well-known time-telling abilities; and the value of the leaves to rabbits and foraging humans (both leaves and flowers are edible with high vitamin and mineral content).  But I most love the way dandelions close up when it’s wet and come out to bask when it’s sunny – such enthusiasm for life and pleasure in the here-and-now moment. 

And I especially love the super-abundance of the plant.  The epitome of the R-species (with its high seed production and short life-cycle it has a rapid response to opportunity) the dandelion is an opportunist able to take full advantage of every prospect open to it.  Is this perhaps a metaphor for what we seek to do through early years education, in laying the foundations for a resilient, capable, confident and self-assured person who is able to make the most of their abilities and talents as they grow?

Their abundance is key to their play value

And then, above all of this, is the reason I love dandelions professionally – because they make such stunning play materials, especially when available in abundance:

Ÿ         collecting them feeds our ancient foraging instincts, so visible in children’s play;

Ÿ         arranging them in jam jars is wonderfully satisfying;

Ÿ         they make excellent jewellery – easier and better than daisies;

Ÿ         the heads and stems taken apart lend themselves to pattern and picture making (see also the adult artworks of Andy Goldsworthy and Marc Pouyet)

Ÿ         crushing and using the yellow pigment from flowers and green colour from leaves can contribute to much petal perfume making and cocktail creating.  The milky sap is good for potions and spells, and the roots are interestingly vegetable-like;

Ÿ         they are excellent for garnishing mud pies and other mud kitchen cookery, and have real cooking potential since the whole plant is edible.

The garnish completes the dish

 I am enthused now to do more to promote these fabulous plants for children’s play – and to ensure that they are ‘designed in’ to any play and learning environment I’m involved with. 

I’m also thinking of introducing Dandelion Day as a sister to International Mud Day (29th June) – would you be in on it?

Artists and art; Children and play

All images (C) Jan White, with thanks to Learning through Landscapes and Danish settings visited with the help of Inside-Out Nature for the inspiring experiences of dandelions at work in children’s play.


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It’s Spring now – why not think about going barefoot!

The flat rubber-surfaced conception if a ‘safe’ outdoor environment is clearly not a rich place for providing babies, toddlers and young children with the sensory and loco-motor challenges they need for good development.  Over recent years, I’ve been paying a lot of attention to the landscape (topography) and surfaces that children need to be exploring, before they are three as well as after.  I’ve often heard of children going into the woods on their first Forest School visit who have found the woodland floor too challenging and even scary or upsetting (I do also come across adults who are not used to negotiating this bumpy, sloping, unpredictable footing; and finding it quite demanding themselves).  If adults find this ground difficult to manage, they would perhaps not see it as surprising that the children do; but I think this situation is really alarming.  If a child does not possess the balance, eye-foot coordination, flexibility of foot-fall and responsiveness of limb control to react to unevenness in the ground by the time they are three, I think something – or more likely, lots – of important things have been missing in their early locomotor experiences that would act to generate good levels of capability, confidence and self-efficacy in their physical lives (and therefore all other aspects of their lives).  Observing 3 year-olds playing outside in Danish Kindergartens, it became clear to me just how much balance, control and confidence, willingness to challenge themselves and physical freedom these children have, with trust from adults that is combined with an assumption that they are perfectly competent to be doing what they were doing.  So, I’ve spent a lot of time considering what our children have been missing (from birth onwards) and what they need in their lives in general – and from their play outdoors in particular.

Young children need to spend lots of time every day moving in a landscape that provides a good range of different surfaces.  Indoor environments tend to be very limited in the variety of floor surface – wherever the child goes, it is likely to be smooth, firm, free of bumps and of uniform resistance.  Outdoors, children are so often contained and restrained in pushchairs and car seats.  However, while they are crawling, and as soon as they are getting confident at upright walking, they need to experience increasing demand on the body and brain for strong locomotor skills to develop.  A good outdoor environment for this aspect of physical development will offer:

Ÿ         surfaces with variety and that are less predictable,

Ÿ         surfaces that are soft and give way a little underfoot (such as grass, sand and bark),

Ÿ         surfaces that slope and offer a range of gradients,

Ÿ         surfaces with different levels (such as steps and terraces with different ways of getting between them),

Ÿ         uneven and bumpy surfaces that need a lot of attention and response (such as rough and worn grass, woodland floor and boulders for clambering),

Ÿ         surfaces that change with the weather, seasons and over time (such as a ‘mountain’ of loose earth),

Ÿ         contrast as the child moves from one kind of surface to another,

Ÿ         a good variety of things for the child to pull, push and carry while doing all this moving.

How about these wonderful and wise words from the Austrian artist/architect Friedensreich Hundertwasser (1991), to be found on the wall of the Kunst Haus Wien in Vienna.  Like Gaudi, Hundertwasser made the floors of his buildings uneven, and very beautiful to move on:

“If man is forced to walk on flat floors as they were planned thoughtlessly in designers’ offices, estranged from man’s age old relationship of contact to earth, a decisive part of man withers and dies.  This has catastrophic consequences for the soul, the equilibrium and the wellbeing of man.  Man’s ability to experience ceases and he becomes disabled, mentally and organically. The unseen floor becomes a symphony, a melody for the feet and brings back natural vibrations to man.  It is good to walk on uneven floors and regain our human balance” [my italics].    

During my research in this area, I’ve been drawn into the world of Barefoot Living.  I’ve never liked wearing shoes and was raised to believe it was good to be barefoot.  But until recently, I thought I was unusual and perhaps even a bit weird – I do the gardening barefoot, loving to feel all the different surfaces and sensations through my feet, and finding it unpleasant to have shoes on when I’m out there.  Now I’ve discovered that there is a global community of people who take this much further – and resist the expectations and demands in the West to be shod when out in the community (The case for bare feet).  In finding out more about this, I have come to the conclusion that shoes are actually not good for children’s developing feet and locomotion.  It also makes me think that it’s time to reconsider what we do in outdoor play in early years settings (in the UK), as this is actually an environment where children could go barefoot (and I know that they commonly do in New Zealand).

Ÿ         Why are we so sure in the UK that children should wear shoes when they go outdoors?

Ÿ         Why has it often become a mantra and even a rule that children must put on shoes to go outside? 

Ÿ         Why do we assume that babies should have shoes put on their feet as soon as they start to walk, and certainly if they are outdoors? 

Ÿ         How is it that at least half of the world’s population don’t wear, and don’t need, shoes? 

Ÿ         How did we evolve as bipedal primates without the protection of something on our feet?

Ÿ         Has the world really become more dangerous to our feet, or our feet become so much more delicate?

Ÿ         Why is it so hard to buy shoes that fit feet that have spent a lot of time being unshod – that is, why don’t they make shoes that fit the natural shape of feet?

Ÿ         How have we become so convinced that shoes help young feet to develop well and that we need them for our feet to operate properly?

 

So much information enters the body via the feet, which the child then makes a response to in order to move successfully, that it is worth contemplating why we are so keen to put shoes onto children’s feet as soon as they are walking.  Surely, at this time particularly, the toddler needs their feet to be feeling the ground and operating as they are meant to.  As Dr Paul Brand observes, “A barefoot walker receives a continuous stream of information about the ground and about his own relationship to it, while a shod foot sleeps inside an unchanging environment” (quoted in Born to Run, McDougall, 2009). 

Observing that “children have an instinctive understanding that shoes are unnatural”, and recommending that “children should not wear closed shoes with toe springs, elevated heels or arch supports until at least the age of eight, or they should at least minimise the use of such shoes to minutes per day” (p77), anatomist Dr Daniel Howell (The Barefoot Book, 2010, p45) explains that even sensible shoes can do the following to feet and gait:

  • diminish the flexibility of the foot and toes,
  • reduce the gripping and push-off functions of the toes,
  • virtually eliminate the sensory feedback between the sensitive sole and the brain,
  • redistribute body weight and load-bearing placements in the foot,
  • alter the positions of joints in the foot, ankle, knee, hip and spine,
  • dramatically reduce the spring action of the arch,
  • reduce considerably the shock-absorption function of the arch      .

So long as the environment has been carefully checked for unacceptable hazards there must be times and places where we can enable children to experience so much more of the world through this wonderfully sensitive, but surprisingly robust, part of our body.  Could we start a movement for barefoot childhood?  I’m certainly going to keep raising the issue and prodding assumptions.  I’d love to know other people’s thoughts…

 All images (C) Jan White, Early Childhood Natural Play.  Thanks to Liz Knowles of Muddy Faces for these wonderful images of the liberated foot!