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T catches himself on the way up the hill |
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One thing I know about one year olds is that they live a very
perilous
life. It seems they are attracted to the terrain that is trickiest
to
navigate, and the trickiness is heightened by their wobbly nature
as
new walkers. Gravity, it seems, is always ready to play. And
calculated risk is the name of the game.
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SW contemplating the hill and his bike |
And yet, through the inevitable and often repeated falls, they
soon find themselves confidently walking (or running) up and down
inclines, stepping across river rocks, reaching impossible
distances,
and feeling the edges of space with their feet and hands. In
a relatively short span of time, children go from being wobblers
to
toddlers, and this transition to confident navigators is wrought
with
risk and falls. Amazingly, children seem not only ready to take
risk
after risk, but they are even
drawn
to risky areas. They seem to know, better than us most of the
time,
that they need to take risks in order to figure it all out:
Where's
the edge? How close can I get without falling? How can I fall
better? How high can I climb and still be able to get down? What
happens if I just let go?
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One of the many up and downs the hill for T and his bus |
Never is this exploration more clear
than outside at TIH. Between our front lawn and asphalt area is an
incline of about 45 degrees. There used to be ornamental grasses
planted there. In fact, there used to be grass there, but almost
every child in our school finds their way up and down this slope,
whether by feet, belly, bike or bum many times everyday. Now it
has
holes where shovels have dug, bare dirt mixed with clumps and
grass,
and other various places that call out to children: I'm risky! Can
you navigate me?
The wobblers often congregate around
this area and try different methods to go up and down. When a fall
happens, it's usually on the way down. Nearly everyone has skinned
a
knee, scraped a palm, or even bonked a head. Today, SW was riding
a
small bike down the ramp, and fell forwards over the handle bars.
This wasn't the first time it had happened, and today he caught
himself on his elbows, which, while it hurt, was much more
preferable
to his face.
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SM and the skateboard with SC watching |
The challenging nature of this incline
is like a magnet. They challenge themselves to not fall down this
time as they lift their feet and fly down the hill on a bike. They
challenge themselves as they roll down, climb up, run across, and
fly
by.
Whenever an area has a high number of
injuries (even small scrapes and bonks), we have to ask ourselves
as
the adults: Is this safe?
What
are
the risks? Are the children able to make
calculated,
age-appropriate risks? Are the risks appropriate enough so that
they
are resulting in increased skills? Are we willing, as adults, to
allow these risks to be taken, knowing the likely outcomes? Are
the
risks too great? Do we need to offer slightly less challenging
risks
that will help build up the skills necessary to be successful
with
this challenge?
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Gathering |
With our incline, we could make it
less
risky. We could make the incline smooth—but there's a hill just a
few feet away with a smooth incline, and it sees much less use...
We
could put some plants back onto it, cut it out so that it's less
steep, or even put a bunch of soft mats all around it.
At this point, however, the children
who have access to the incline are all facing what we consider
minor
risks: small scrapes and bonks. At this point and with these
children, everyone is working hard to build on their skills in
calculated and intentional ways. They are learning about their
bodies, about how it feels to navigate and fall on different
terrains
and different slopes, about the different tools you can use to
balance better and fall better.
However, with any risky area, I find
myself hanging out near this incline constantly now. When SW fell
over his bike, I quickly went to him. I crouched down, and we
talked
about what happened: “You rode your bike down the hill and fell.
Ouch. It looks like you landed on your elbow, look! Right here,
see
these red marks! It looks like you caught yourself! You did it!”
As I was talking the other children
gathered around, finding places to sit on the hill. Everyone wants
to
hear what happened, see the scrapes, and hear what happened again.
The story will likely be retold over and over and over in the next
few days. In a few months, someone will probably point at the bike
and remember, “SW down hill. Fell. Elbow hurt.” But for now
our place of risk has become a meeting spot, and we begin to sing
a
song. During the song, some of the boys naturally begin to slide
down
the hill, and the navigating of challenges has returned.
Because we allow children to take
risks
and challenges themselves, they learn how their bodies can work
under
all sorts of conditions. Most of the time, the children play
happily
on this incline and other challenging areas of the yard because it
has been a part of their outdoor experience since they have been
able
to move on their own volition. They have learned that while we as
adults create an environment that isn't TOO risky for them, they
are
still responsible for keeping themselves as safe. Each child gets
to
make their own choices about when and how to challenge themselves.
They learn, not from us “teaching” them but rather of their own
accord, to look ahead, calculate risks, fall better, recover, and
persist.
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Even the preschoolers continue to experiment here |
We give the children this gift of risk
because we trust them. We trust that they will take their safety
seriously, that they will learn from their falls, and they will
continue to gain skills that will help them with the next risk
they
challenge themselves with.
JanetLansbury
put it perfectly in one of her blog posts highlighting the risk a
9
month old she was observing was taking: “They challenge themselves
,
stumble (literally and figuratively) and get up again. What we
might
perceive as 'mistakes,' they accept as just another interesting
life
event and a challenge to be overcome (unless, of course, it
hurts too
much).”