Learning With the Heart
By Joseph Cornell
From the NEW "Sharing Nature: Nature Awareness Activities for All Ages"
On a day of brilliant blue sky and white, puffy clouds, I led a group of children deep into the woods. A storm had just broken; light streaming between the clouds illumined the forest, making everything glow with life. We saw animals everywhere, exulting in the fresh vitality that follows a storm. With thirty-seven children, the group seemed large for a sensitive nature experience. But the magic of the towering, sunlit trees and brightly flowered meadows worked a spell. The children spread out spontaneously and moved through the forest in small groups. Each party of explorers made discovery after discovery; I could barely keep up with the children’s urgent calls, questions, and exclamations of delight.
I remember that afternoon as a particularly satisfying experience of sharing nature with others. When we, as leaders, offer nature outings that foster sensitive discovery and direct experience, nature can change people’s lives in wonderful ways.
On that particular hike, I saw such a change occur in Jack, one of the younger boys. At home Jack was a hunter—he frequently shot songbirds, thinking of them merely as challenging moving targets. That birds are living beings wasn’t a reality to Jack; nor, it seemed, did he know that there were laws prohibiting the shooting of songbirds.
At the end of our hike I asked the children to lie on their backs and gaze up at the spreading branches of a large oak tree. While we were enjoying the oak from this unique perspective, we heard in the nearby trees the "tsittsit" call of a flock of bushtits—tiny, grayish-brown songbirds.
I taught the children a simple call to attract small songbirds. A flock of twenty-five bushtits responded; they flitted closer and closer through the branches until they were just a few feet above us. The bushtits’ calls attracted other nearby birds. Soon western tanagers, mountain chickadees, nuthatches, and warblers were hopping about in the oak tree above us. The children were astonished by the spectacle of so many birds close by, singing and flitting from branch to branch.
Over fifty birds responded to our calls; the enthusiastic children wanted to know the name of each species. When a striking black and yellow bird with a bright red head appeared, I told them, "That’s a western tanager! He’s flown all the way from Mexico or Central America to raise his family in these woods." Most of the other birds stayed long enough for me to share fascinating facts about them.
The birds were so close that each one became individually alive for the children. For the rest of the week there was high interest in birds. Jack was deeply touched by the experience, and whenever we spotted a new bird he was among the first with questions about its name and habits. Jack’s attitude toward birds had completely changed, and he began to appreciate them as beautiful, fellow forms of life.
Liberty Hyde Bailey, who at the turn of the twentieth century founded the nature-study movement, said, "Sensitiveness to life is the highest product of education." To encourage an attitude of respect for life, we need to begin with awareness, which leads to loving empathy. Feeling a common bond with living things makes us more concerned for the well-being of all life. The eminent Japanese conservationist Tanaka Shozo said, "The care of rivers is not a question of rivers, but of the human heart."
Mere exposure to nature isn’t always enough, as a friend of mine discovered when he took his eight-year-old son hiking in the Canadian Rockies. They hiked for several hours until they came to a spectacular overlook above two glaciated valleys and several alpine lakes.
He said, "That view alone made our trip from Iowa worthwhile." He suggested to his son that they sit and enjoy the stunning mountain scenery. To my friend’s dismay, the boy, who’d been running exuberantly back and forth along the trail, sat only for five seconds, then scrambled to his feet and started running up the trail again. My friend said he felt like screaming, "Stop! Look at this incredible view!"
We who love wild places enjoy sharing our delight with others, but, as my friend discovered, it isn’t always easy to focus children’s lively energies or to engage adults who have little curiosity or sense of wonder.
In the 1980s I developed a system of teaching that continues to play a central role in my work today. Thousands of educators and outdoor leaders have also found this teaching system extremely beneficial. It is a strategy that makes outdoor learning fun, dynamic, experiential, and uplifting. Since creating this system, I’ve been able consistently to accomplish my highest goals as a nature educator.
Because it shows how to use nature activities in a purposeful, flowing way, I call this system Flow Learning. It engages both the mind and the heart, where true understanding and appreciation live. It is based on universal principles of awareness and on how we learn and mature as human beings.
By Joseph Cornell
From the NEW "Sharing Nature: Nature Awareness Activities for All Ages"
On a day of brilliant blue sky and white, puffy clouds, I led a group of children deep into the woods. A storm had just broken; light streaming between the clouds illumined the forest, making everything glow with life. We saw animals everywhere, exulting in the fresh vitality that follows a storm. With thirty-seven children, the group seemed large for a sensitive nature experience. But the magic of the towering, sunlit trees and brightly flowered meadows worked a spell. The children spread out spontaneously and moved through the forest in small groups. Each party of explorers made discovery after discovery; I could barely keep up with the children’s urgent calls, questions, and exclamations of delight.
I remember that afternoon as a particularly satisfying experience of sharing nature with others. When we, as leaders, offer nature outings that foster sensitive discovery and direct experience, nature can change people’s lives in wonderful ways.
On that particular hike, I saw such a change occur in Jack, one of the younger boys. At home Jack was a hunter—he frequently shot songbirds, thinking of them merely as challenging moving targets. That birds are living beings wasn’t a reality to Jack; nor, it seemed, did he know that there were laws prohibiting the shooting of songbirds.
At the end of our hike I asked the children to lie on their backs and gaze up at the spreading branches of a large oak tree. While we were enjoying the oak from this unique perspective, we heard in the nearby trees the "tsittsit" call of a flock of bushtits—tiny, grayish-brown songbirds.
I taught the children a simple call to attract small songbirds. A flock of twenty-five bushtits responded; they flitted closer and closer through the branches until they were just a few feet above us. The bushtits’ calls attracted other nearby birds. Soon western tanagers, mountain chickadees, nuthatches, and warblers were hopping about in the oak tree above us. The children were astonished by the spectacle of so many birds close by, singing and flitting from branch to branch.
Over fifty birds responded to our calls; the enthusiastic children wanted to know the name of each species. When a striking black and yellow bird with a bright red head appeared, I told them, "That’s a western tanager! He’s flown all the way from Mexico or Central America to raise his family in these woods." Most of the other birds stayed long enough for me to share fascinating facts about them.
The birds were so close that each one became individually alive for the children. For the rest of the week there was high interest in birds. Jack was deeply touched by the experience, and whenever we spotted a new bird he was among the first with questions about its name and habits. Jack’s attitude toward birds had completely changed, and he began to appreciate them as beautiful, fellow forms of life.
Liberty Hyde Bailey, who at the turn of the twentieth century founded the nature-study movement, said, "Sensitiveness to life is the highest product of education." To encourage an attitude of respect for life, we need to begin with awareness, which leads to loving empathy. Feeling a common bond with living things makes us more concerned for the well-being of all life. The eminent Japanese conservationist Tanaka Shozo said, "The care of rivers is not a question of rivers, but of the human heart."
Mere exposure to nature isn’t always enough, as a friend of mine discovered when he took his eight-year-old son hiking in the Canadian Rockies. They hiked for several hours until they came to a spectacular overlook above two glaciated valleys and several alpine lakes.
He said, "That view alone made our trip from Iowa worthwhile." He suggested to his son that they sit and enjoy the stunning mountain scenery. To my friend’s dismay, the boy, who’d been running exuberantly back and forth along the trail, sat only for five seconds, then scrambled to his feet and started running up the trail again. My friend said he felt like screaming, "Stop! Look at this incredible view!"
We who love wild places enjoy sharing our delight with others, but, as my friend discovered, it isn’t always easy to focus children’s lively energies or to engage adults who have little curiosity or sense of wonder.
In the 1980s I developed a system of teaching that continues to play a central role in my work today. Thousands of educators and outdoor leaders have also found this teaching system extremely beneficial. It is a strategy that makes outdoor learning fun, dynamic, experiential, and uplifting. Since creating this system, I’ve been able consistently to accomplish my highest goals as a nature educator.
Because it shows how to use nature activities in a purposeful, flowing way, I call this system Flow Learning. It engages both the mind and the heart, where true understanding and appreciation live. It is based on universal principles of awareness and on how we learn and mature as human beings.