I’ve written about this work before in Nature Teaches Naturally – Present and future perspectives on nature-based, ecological and somatic learning (Wishart, 2011), adapted here and elaborated elsewhere.

Notes about autoethnography…

Researchers writing autoethnographically seek production of evocative “thick descriptions of personal and interpersonal experience” (Ellis et al., 2010, p. 5) emphasising the manner in which the researcher evolves as fieldwork progresses. Denzin and Lincoln (2003, p. 257) push this boundary further to position the practitioner-researcher as “passionate participant”.

Background

I worked at abotanic garden settingfor a period of 5 years as part of their education team.

At that time the botanic gardens education service offered 40 different programs/excursions for early years, primary, secondary, vocational and higher education. I specialised in the teaching of early years, primary, vocational/tertiary education programs. Some of these programs are still being delivered to children, young people and adults to this day with names such as “Homes & Hideaways”, “Minibeasts”, “Sustainable Gardening” and “Food Forest”. While others now reflect changing sociocultural and educational trends with programs focused on “Health and Wellbeing in Nature”, “Connecting to Country” and “Shared Country”.

How did I get to work in a botanical institution?

One of my lecturers in my early childhood teacher training saw my deep interest and curiosity in all things connected with nature contact, outdoor play and learning and put me in touch with the inspiring and passionate humans in the botanic gardens education team where I was mentored during a community-focused placement. I was hooked! I joined this team after completing my ECT training.

Teaching identity entangled with nature and the outdoors

Working and teaching outdoors in a botanic garden setting shaped my identity and values as an educator immeasurably. This work brought me closer to the rub and vibration of the web of life in a way I could not have imagined previously. Childhood nature-culture, children developing ecological identities, pedagogies for the outdoors, emergent curriculum of nature play…all important.

Each day riding my bike to work in an open air classroom was a joy and a surprise. Even in a [colonial] botanic institution, a well-manicured and “staged” natural environment, nature would teach emergently and unpredictably. A sudden rain storm, a blue tongue lizard appearance, frog, fruit bat, cool tree trunk or wild beehive encounter would result in a flurry of gasps and questions from children. While we talked about ourselves as teachers in this place, nature was the teacher, always teaching.

Experimenting with diverse pedagogical practices

Silence and stillness

One of my ongoing pedagogical inclusions teaching and guiding children into immersion in the world(s) of trees, shrubs, grasses and plantscapes was the use of silence and stillness to open the senses. A momentary invitation to stop talking, close eyes, feel feet grow roots into the earth, listening with all the senses, touch, hearing, taste, smell and more. Then ask class participants what they noticed (heard, felt, smelt etc.) while they were silent and had eyes closed. Often class participants would express surprise at how much they would notice when still, silent, with eyes closed. A teaching strategy to support multi-sensory learning? Sometimes easier said than done when one of the dominant privileged pathways to learn is through talking, the spoken word and activation of the associated parts of the higher brain connected with speech.

Neuroscience and nature?

I have thought and written about this pedagogical challenge many times (Wishart, 2011) and link it now to neuroscience perspectives. The neocortex, the parts of the brain associated with executive functioning, thinking , imagination, talking, reading are said to seek or feed on particular forms of stimulation such as spoken word, written text, visual imagery (Sicchi cites Tolja, 2009). The architects of social media and mobile devices know this all too well and use it to keep us scrolling and looking for the next dopamine hit!

What if we quieten down the neocortex to allow our multiple senses to open to nature’s multiplicity, to open gently to what surrounds us,  – smells, colours, bird calls, insect chirps, twig snaps, the feel of light breeze on skin, sunlight through leaves, shadows, earth underfoot? We sensitize to our surroundings and allow the world’s tactility in…

This quieting of the neocortex can be sometimes difficult for children and adults alike to reach. When I would invite a group of children (or adults) to stand still in a grove of trees, to rest their voices and close eyes I would often notice unease, uncomfortable looks here and there or whispered comments about wanting to move on to the next thing. As though the mind (neocortex) was searching for, (craving?) the next big attraction. For others, it appeared to be a relief, to have a recuperative moment, shown in the smiles and softening of faces.

I persisted with this teaching inclusion even when it sometimes made me uncomfortable, as it served as a pattern interruption to habituated ways of teaching and learning for children and adults alike.

Nature contact as co-regulation

Nature expresses as multiplicity and our channels of receiving this communication are also many. Thus the natural world or Country may be the original multi-sensory learning environment. We can allow, invite the natural world to touch us – our bodies, senses, and our body-mind – we can learn from this direct experience. Nature has potential to bring our fragmented attention into an integrated and balanced present. This is/was part of the proposition coming from psychology around Attention Restoration Theory (Kaplan, 1995 as cited by Rathunde, 2009, p. 76).

Contradictions and paradoxes of teaching in a botanic education environment

Teaching in a botanic garden setting was also laced with contradictions. Learning experiences were programmed, routinised and delivered according to a set plan on the clock morning and afternoon. Whilst the amazing land and plantscapes offered novelty, richness, holistic experience, calm spacious moments to learn outdoors, to learn differently, to learn slowly…There was content, curriculum and learning activities “to get through”, sites and spaces to visit within a program’s themes. Some days teaching felt rushed. Sometimes teachers visiting with their kindergarten or school group looked rushed, holding everything together with the complexity of offsite excursions, where was the unhurried child? Slow pedagogy looking rushed? How could these paradoxes be worked with?

Postscript links to Sanders, Ryken and Stewart – Navigating nature, culture and education in contemporary botanic gardens (2018, p. 1081):

…studies of the attitudes of botanic garden visitors indicate that they rate the restorative features of the garden setting as more important than learning about plants or conservation issues (Connell 2004; Ballantyne, Packer, and Hughes 2007).

Pointing to nature’s gift of co-regulation to restore human attention and one might hope a connection to a larger ecological self, Mother Gaia, Country, natural systems that sustain us and all life…

More specifically, visitors value features such as being away from everyday scenery and being immersed in a different world (Herzog, Maguire, and Nebel 2003; Scopelliti and Giuliani 2004), e.g. through an ‘indigenous garden curriculum’ (Cajete 1994, 200) or the ‘faraway nearby’ (Solnit 2013) feeling of escape that being in the garden can bring (Wassenberg, Goldenberg, and Soule 2015).

Part of the allure of teaching and learning in a botanic garden was the being transported away from the everyday, from the ‘megalopolitan city’ (Chipeniuk 1995). Time and again witnessing children bursting with excitement to visit different plant worlds, to learn in new and different ways…

Or in the case of Royal Botanic Gardens Victoria – Melbourne Children’s Garden…

“The entire garden is scaled for children, and specifically designed to intrigue young visitors to explore. What lies around the bend, through the gorge, amid the forest? The landscape is an invitation to climb, jump, crouch, crawl and revel in the natural world, a delight for children and carers alike.”

“The collection is important as it:

• Offers a space for children to learn about flora and fauna, through having exposure to different forms, textures and colours. This is achieved by maintaining scale and having a patchwork of spaces which link throughout the space” (RBGV, n.d.).

References

Denzin, N. K., & Lincoln, Y. S. (Eds.). (2003). The landscape of qualitative research: Theories and issues (2nd ed.). Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage.

Ellis, C., Adams, T., & Bochner, A. (2011). Autoethnography: An overview. Forum Qualitative Sozialforschung/Forum: Qualitative Social Research, 12(1), 1-18. Retrieved from http://www.qualitative-research.net/index.php/fqs/article/view/1589/3095

Rathunde, K. (2009). Nature and Embodied Education. The Journal of Developmental Processes, 4(1), 70-80.

Royal Botanic Gardens Victoria. (n.d.) The Ian Potter Foundation Children’s Garden. https://www.rbg.vic.gov.au/melbourne-gardens/discover-melbourne-gardens/melbourne-gardens-living-collections/the-ian-potter-foundation-childrens-garden/

Sanders, D. L., Ryken, A. E., & Stewart, K. (2018). Navigating nature, culture and education in contemporary botanic gardens. Environmental Education Research, 24(8), 1077-1084-1084.

Sicchi, R. (2009). Body, Mind, Space: An Interview with Jader Tolja. Currents: A Journal of the Body-Mind Centering Association, 11(1), 30-34.. Wishart, L. (2011). Nature teaches naturally: Present and future perspectives on nature-based, ecological and somatic learning. Currents: A Journal of the Body-Mind Centering Association, 14(1), 8-11.