Childhood.

This is one of just a few photos of me
playing outside as a young child.

Growing up in the 1970s,
people didn't take many photos.

And they certainly didn't take photos
of children playing outside,

because it was very common
for a child to play outside.

(Laughter)

(Applause)

My sisters and I spent endless hours
transforming our backyard

into a cooking-show kitchen,
an airport, a hair salon,

or some other imaginary place.

We would pull the contents
of our basement playroom outside

where there was more space
and greater possibilities.

Often, our play would go
to the back alley,

or it would go down the street
to our neighborhood friend's house.

I have no memory of my parents
being anywhere close by

or calling next door
to arrange a play date.

I imagine that these memories
sound familiar to many of you

sitting in the audience today.

Think of yourself playing as a child.

Now raise your hand
if your play took place outside.

Leave your hand up if your parents
were nowhere in sight.

(Laughter)

Unfortunately,

to far too many children today,
being outdoors is a far, foreign place.

Kids with an interest in going outside

are often guided
by their parents or society

to stay indoors to avoid
discomfort and danger.

Or they are distracted
by a wide array of electronic devices

that passively entertain them.

According to US research,

over half of preschoolers
do not go outside on a daily basis

with their parents.

This photograph of a couple
of preschoolers on their iPads worries me.

No. Actually, it scares me.

Research in Canada suggests
that children ages six to eleven

spend seven and a half hours
being inactive every day.

In the UK,

they found that over 40% of parents

don't believe that children under the age
of 14 should go outside unsupervised.

So what is society doing about this?

I want to tell you today about
how we developed a Nature Kindergarten

in our community

to connect young children with nature.

My story begins in 2010

when our family took a four-month
sabbatical to Munich, Germany.

Our son, Niko, was four at the time.

And given my enthusiasm
about connecting children to the outdoors,

you can imagine how excited
I was to enroll him in a Waldkindergarten,

forest kindergarten.

Forest preschools have been
part of a northern European tradition

for over 60 years.

There is no bad weather,

only bad clothing.

Send the kids outside, rain or shine.

Have you ever noticed
that it's usually adults, not children,

who don't want to go
outside in bad weather?

(Laughter)

Northern Europeans have long understood

the benefits of taking
young children outside,

and so they developed these programs
for three- to six-year-olds.

Each day,

a trained early-childhood educator
would take the children outside

to learn and play in unstructured ways

and often with limited adult supervision.

While Niko's program
took place in a municipal forest,

these programs have also been successfully
established on farms and in city parks.

Ironically, Niko and I spent over an hour
commuting to his program -

first by bike, then by subway,
then by streetcar, and eventually on foot

to arrive at the forest.

While the children
in Wurzelkinder Waldkindergarten

spent part of their day
in and around these caravans,

it was their daily excursion
to the forest or riverbank

that was the part
of the program that is unique.

Along the way,

their educators would help them name
and notice berries, bugs, slugs.

And when they got there,

they would sit on the forest floor
in a circular fashion,

give thanks to nature, enjoy a snack,
and then they would play.

Occasionally, I asked
for permission to participate.

I was amazed at what I saw.

What a world of difference compared
to the co-op preschool model back home.

I was intrigued by how young children
walked one- to two-kilometer distances

without complaining

and often out of the sight of an adult,

how puddles became invitations
to create makeshift boats and get wet,

and how the educators stood back

and allowed the children
to independently struggle

with the physics of getting
a stick into the ground

to make a goalpost for soccer.

I appreciated the care and detail

that went into making crafts
out of natural objects,

rather than paper and glitter,

and how the change of seasons
were celebrated through song and dance.

I was shocked by the risks that were taken

when young children were allowed to swim
in the fast-flowing Isar River,

when they tied ropes around trees,

and the children would traverse
up and down the hillside in the dirt,

when four-year-olds, my son included,
were given sharp knives

so that they can whittle sticks

in order to be able to roast
a sausage over an open flame.

"Risk," it turns out,
is not a four-letter word

to German parents and educators.

It is a vehicle to independence.

When I wasn't participating
in Niko's program,

I took that streetcar
a few stops further along,

and I sat in a cafe, and I leisurely read
a book or the newspaper.

While this was initially
self-indulgent bliss

for a full-time working mom
on sabbatical,

the novelty ended, and I became restless
to become productive.

I am German after all.

(Laughter)

So I shared my woes of non-productivity
with my remotely sympathetic spouse.

And it is he who I should credit
with the idea of a Nature Kindergarten

because he shifted my thinking,

and my principled mind
started turning over new ideas.

By the time we returned to Canada,

I had not only experienced
forest preschools firsthand,

but I'd also read a few books,

and I talked to several
of Niko's educators.

As the person responsible for
the district's curriculum and programs,

I was well positioned to pitch the idea
of transplanting a Nature Kindergarten

to a school district in British Columbia.

My supervisor trusted in my capacity
to start a new program,

and I knew where to find collaborators.

Early-childhood professor Enid Elliot

was my first and
most critical collaborator.

Over a course of two years,

Enid and I gathered
a community of individuals

from a wide variety of backgrounds

who were generous
with their ideas and their time.

We all believed in the value
of our own time spent outside

as young children,

the importance of play,

and the need to respond to the factors
that were keeping children indoors today.

Together, we envisioned
a kindergarten program

at a school that was adjacent
to a forest and a lagoon.

And we envisioned children going outside
for two and a half hours every morning,

regardless of the weather.

They would follow the mandated
kindergarten curriculum

outside in the morning
and indoors in the afternoon.

We hoped that nature
would become their third teacher,

that their mental
and physical health would improve,

that they would become
stewards of the environment,

and that they would learn
the Aboriginal ways of knowing

of the First Nations people.

Meet Lisa and Erin, kindergarten teacher
and early-childhood educator.

Together, they took the idea
of a Nature Kindergarten

and transformed it into practice.

Observing great teaching
leaves me feeling charged up and hopeful.

Spending a morning with Lisa,
Erin, and their students

always leaves me
with this energized feeling.

Each day, they go outside,
and they create a learning environment

that develops organically according to
what the kids are interested in

and the unknown wonders
of the natural world.

Through self-reflection, collaboration,
and the occasional frustrated tear,

they move their educational
practice forward.

To date, 65 children
have completed our program.

I am pleased to tell you

that we have hardly used
our risk-management plan.

No child has ever been lost,
endangered by wildlife,

or seriously injured.

Phew.

(Laughter)

Parents have overwhelmingly reported

that the program has exceeded
their expectations.

And when researchers
compared the Nature Kindergarten

to a regular kindergarten class,

they found significantly
greater gains in four areas.

Those four areas were locomotor skills,
assertiveness, cooperation,

and self-control.

So let's go through them one by one.

Locomotor skills.

This log in the background
of the photograph

is about 20 feet long, six inches wide,
and about five feet off the ground.

Last year,

it sat in the Royal Roads Forest
and got noticed by our students.

At first, they hung off of it,

then they bummed along it,

then they crawled along it,

and eventually - you guessed it -

they walked across
this very long and skinny log.

Fortunately,

there were no concerned playground
licensing officers anywhere close by.

(Laughter)

We need to empower young children
to take age-appropriate risks

on their own.

We know that by doing so, they will lead
healthier and safer lives as young adults.

These logs provide otherwise clumsy
and uncoordinated children

with the ability to prove themselves
to be expert climbers.

Picture Nature Kindergarten children
moving and playing

for two and a half hours every morning,

and you won't be surprised to learn

that they improve their strength
and agility to run, hop, and climb.

Assertiveness.

Every day last year,

the class walked past
a couple of anthills.

The children became connected to the ants

as they do to most living things
in "their" forest."

As the year went along,

they noticed that people were throwing
sticks and rocks on the anthills,

causing them to get damaged.

The children identified themselves
as the ants' caretakers,

and they decided to voice their opinions.

"You can't step on the anthills!
They're part of nature!"

"We need to take care of them!"

"Ants help pollinate flowers!"

So they got together as a group,
and they made signs and posters,

and they taught others
how to take care of the ants.

Lucky ants -

four- and five-year-olds
taking care of them,

not squashing them with their boots.

Cooperation.

The children soon learn
that staying safe and happy in the forest

means cooperating
and caring for each other.

Cooperation is a team effort.

"Help! This log is too heavy for me!"

Ava's friends rush over,

and they help her carry
the branch down the path.

"You have to walk
one, two, one, two, one, two!"

Ava's more confident friend
Eli offers up.

And soon, their classmates
start walking at a similar speed.

"My arm is getting sore.
When can we switch?"

"You have to keep going!"
yells Zoe from the back of the log.

No adults - just kids organizing kids.

Self-control.

Using sticks, rocks, and dirt,

the children in the Nature Kindergarten
learn to focus themselves

during listening times in the forest.

Being outdoors in the wide, open spaces

makes it easy to accept noises and actions

that may be considered too loud
or destructive indoors.

So the Nature Kindergarten children
realize that you can bark like a dog,

or you can dig a hole
next to your classmate,

and no one will be annoyed
with your unconventional ways.

We did it.

We transplanted a forest preschool
to a school district in British Columbia.

What we didn't anticipate is how
the interest in this idea would grow.

The Nature Kindergarten
was at the front end of a wave of interest

in outdoor programs for young children.

There are now over 20 programs
like this across the province,

with several examples
in different school districts.

(Applause)

You can't do this overnight,

so be thoughtful in your process

and generous in how you
support your educators.

Every generation is different,
but nature is our constant.

Being outside as a young child
helped define who I am today,

what I value, and how I spend my time.

I hope that my own children,
nieces and nephews,

and the children who I educate

will develop this same
connection to nature.

The future of our planet
depends on raising children

who have reasons to protect
the world they live in.

(Applause)