The Connection Cure: The Prescriptive Power of Movement, Nature, Art, Service and Belonging, is a new publication released this summer by a journalist doing research in the area of what’s known in some medical circles as “social prescribing”. In this book, the author, Julia Hotz, shares how more natural ways of treating physical and mental health challenges have been life-changing for many people around the globe. While she is not writing in the context of education, I think her findings are more than relevant when it comes to our learning environments. Here are her conclusions: 

• That as humans we need connection with other real-life human beings to satisfy our need to belong. We need to care for each other and be cared for in a context of safe relationships.

• That we need space to move our bodies: in the not-so-distant past, this was a necessity of daily life; we needed to move to survive, and our work was primarily physical. This shift to a sedentary lifestyle has been hard not only on our physical bodies, but our minds and emotional lives as well.

• That we need the arts to express ourselves and process our world; again, this was built into many of our cultures in the past through art, music, and drama, but we are losing this as we move more towards a focus on academic performance in education, as well as a focus on perfection and outcome rather than process.

• That we need time in nature; which again, was simply part of our life when we needed to be aware of our environment because we relied on the creatures that lived in it, the plants that gave us food, the rhythm of the days and seasons. Our move indoors with artificial environments have taken us farther away from this connection. Our self-sufficiency has left us nature-starved.

• That we need to take care of each other and help others in need; volunteering our time and energy with people, animals and our environment. This provides not only a sense of purpose but also contributes to a feeling of being part of something bigger.

As a developmentalist, a lover of nature and the arts, and someone who believes in the power of attachment, Hotz’s conclusion left me unsurprised. However, I realize that the medical model, and I would argue many of our current education models, are far from recognizing the healing power inherent in a return to a life of connection to self, community, expression, and nature. In her words: “Instead of just treating symptoms of sickness, social prescriptions reconnect us to our sources of wellness. And instead of just addressing ‘What’s the matter with you?’ … social prescriptions address ‘What matters to you?’.” 

Thinking of this concept of “social prescribing” in relation to education led me to ponder …

What would it be like to focus more on the relationships between adults and children, increasing the strength of connection between teacher and student (and parent and child) instead of on peer-to-peer relationships? For these are the relationships that will serve the child best in the long run. The more the child or adolescent is able to depend at this vulnerable age, leaning on those who can keep them emotionally safe, the more they will naturally move to explore their world, to stand on their own two feet and to interact with others without losing their sense of self. 

It’s the paradox of development: the deeper the attachment roots go, the more able to find one’s wings.

What would shift if we created opportunities for older generations to mentor the younger ones, for elders and other members of the community to be brought into the school setting? What would it look like for the education and upbringing of all children to include opportunities to take care of someone or something else – helping a younger student read or write, tending to a plant or an animal in need of care? How might our classrooms and communities look different if we were to incorporate some of these opportunities for deep connection and caring?

It’s a kind of cascading care that is largely missing in our current peer-oriented society. And these kinds of experiences have the potential to bring a sense of worth and purpose to all involved.

How can we increase and benefit from our awareness of the natural world? Can we infuse our lives with movement, outdoor exploration, and connections with nature, bringing those practices into the rhythms of our day – not just outside of school, but in our learning environments too? It has become clear that we need to move more for our health and well-being, so what better place to move than outside – walking, climbing, gardening, throwing or kicking a ball around. 

It’s a chance to help us feel more connected with the outer world, which naturally opens us to a world beyond the screen and makes us receptive to learning.

What would it be like to create opportunities to explore our inner world through art or music or drama or writing? Ways to express ourselves, but also to find expression through the words and voice of others, as we find resonance? We need these areas more than ever in our learning environments, for the sake of our emotional health and for the sake of our receptivity to learning. These are the very core areas of culture, and we need them for our school culture to thrive!

It’s ultimately these types of emotional playgrounds that give space for our emotions to come out and express through a song, an instrument, a drama scene, a free writing exercise, a poem. 

Where would we be if we started to intentionally implement some of these real-life connections, cascading care, and emotional playgrounds back into our homes, into our learning environments, into our communities? I personally believe we would be well on our way to a revolutionary kind of education that would encompass a solution to the growing lure of screens and social media in our children’s lives. I’d love to see us get back to the basics. 

What do you say? Are you in?

In her own words:

• “she is full of initiative and ideas”

• “she sets goals for herself”

• “she enjoys novel and unknown situations”

• “she accepts limits and restrictions”

• “she talks about her plans and the sports teams she plans to join”

• “she has big dreams for herself, talking about running her own business someday”

• “she has demonstrated courage”

• “she loves the chance to do things on her own but is also reassured when she can call a parent to check in”

So what is the problem, one might ask?

Well, her newly adolescent daughter was entering into the enticing world of cell phones. And her mother was trying to navigate this with her, questioning how to preserve her daughter’s real life interests, curiosities and emerging uniqueness in the luring face of peers and social media.

This is a struggle for those who are without any significant challenges in their life, but what if you have someone who is already in a state of alarm, alarmed enough to cause scattered attention? What if you have someone who is already in a place of heightened pursuit, where they are desperate for a sign of significance or mattering? What if you have someone who is already vulnerable to filling the voids in their life with other things in order to escape feeling the pains and the lacks?  This is where the lure of social media becomes amplified.

The challenge that we are dealing with is that these devices are made to feed into our greatest needs and insecurities as human beings. And yet, they are not designed to satiate in the same way as a human connection. What do we do with this? 

We are up against an epidemic of screens that scream for our attention and distract from the things in life that matter most. As a society we are starting to see the need to curb this. We are scrambling now to put some boundaries in place, whether it’s banning cell phones at school or putting on parental controls, but the problem has gotten too big, too out of hand. Like a train that has lost its caboose and is careening down the track. Or a horse-drawn cart that has drawn too much momentum and has overtaken the horse, charting a course all its own.

How do we take back the reins? The run-away cart needs a driver. 

Let me go back to the story of this mother and her budding adolescent daughter and share the ways that she is attempting to get back in the driver’s seat. 

• setting aside more device-free time to read books, watch a show together or go out on walks

• introducing more family outdoor activities, leaning into more of the play she enjoyed as a child

• encouraging her daughter to talk more with herself and her brothers about her friendships and hear from them how they have learned to navigate the influences of other kids

• encouraging her daughter to share her opinions more

• taking technology lessons from her oldest son so she is aware of what is going on in the cyber world and the latest “advances”

• speaking openly about what kinds of things she is seeing or might be seeing online and how to handle different situations

• having open conversations about sexuality

• restricting phone use during the day more often

• locking away the phone at night

• leaving her own phone behind when she is with her daughter

Our children and students need us. And they need space to move, to create, to be in nature and to help others in need. This requires some curating and intentional buffering to preserve this kind of space in their lives.

So what is needed? Times of togetherness and matchmaking to outlets for creative expression and meaningful connections with others and the natural world around them. It’s so simple in the end. But not always so easy to find our way back when the cart is rolling down the hill and gaining speed. I think it’s worth it in the end to fumble our way back to the reins. It may be messy and it may cause much upset – but in the end any move in this direction will make a difference.

I have the perfect view of my garden box from my kitchen window. The placement was not intentional, but for some reason, this summer, I really noticed them. Perhaps it was because I spent way more time standing at the window than playing in the garden, or perhaps I enjoyed the stillness of watching Nature shift and change in the rush to get dinner on the table. Whatever the reason, I was reminded how important it is to slow down, be curious, and to keep yearning for the spontaneous unfolding of human potential. Without knowing where this would lead, I kept glancing out the kitchen window with wonder.

I had never noticed the birds, the squirrels, or the trees quite the same way before. It just so happened that I glanced out the window one warm summer evening to see a few weeds that were not there the week before. With a sigh, I told myself it was time to get out and tend to the garden I had prepped in the spring.

However, a few more weeks passed, and I could only find the time to watch the weeds continue to grow. After a few more weeks, I stopped telling myself to do something about the weeds, and instead, I started to get curious about them. Where did the seeds come from? Why were they growing so quickly? What would become of them if I did not pull them up from the roots, but waited for them to grow and bloom? What would I discover if I let their roots deepen and watched the sun and rain offer their nourishment?

As the weeks went by, I started to get excited every time I looked out the window. The weed was growing taller and taller! I saw a little bud! Then another and another! I found myself yearning for this weed to grow and flower. Admittedly, I felt some impatience (a good reminder to slow down), but I told myself that growth takes time and the right conditions for maturation to unfold. By this time, I had stopped watching the weeds from the window and instead walked out to the garden box each night after dinner. Then, as growth does, it finally happened! I caught a glimpse of something yellow as I walked out the backdoor one evening, and much to my delight the sweetest yellow flowers had bloomed. They were tiny, and there were so many, and their beauty shone just like my favourite yellow peony in the front yard.

These tiny yellow flowers got me thinking about my son, who lives with Down syndrome, and the many children living with disability and support needs that I have worked with (and known) over the years. It got me thinking about all the times they are uprooted, and all the times they are pushed to meet societal “norms”. It got me thinking about the classroom, and my son’s experiences at school.

It got me asking questions about when he was most himself? When he was growing and learning, and when he was becoming all he is meant to be? It was not lost on me that everything about those beautiful yellow flowers were already inside the seeds that found their way into my garden box. Nor was it lost on me that this is also true for every child in the classroom.

My own curiosity had me seeing the growth in my garden with different eyes and reminded me to ask different questions. It reminded me that what we should be asking ourselves as caregivers, teachers, and administrators is what has Nature already taught us? What are the conditions we must create in the classroom? How do we lean into play and relationship so each and every student reaches their potential? What can we discover when we tend to the environment ahead of prepping and planning lessons?

Finally, what struck me the most is Nature already gave us the map. The soil created the conditions and a warm invitation for the seed to attach and flourish, making way for a tiny but beautiful yellow flower. My favourite!

To read this now, some 40 years later, is eye-opening. Instead of getting better, the situation has only become more intensified. Our children are more “hurried” than ever. There is more pressure on them to grow up; to learn things before they’re ready, and to perform in ways that actually interfere with the unfolding of their potential.

So many of our practices today have lost, or drifted away from, the meaning and context that was originally attached to them. We are often left with this way of doing things that we have been blindly following, without questioning whether it still makes sense - or whether it is working. And so I want to question: is it working?

I want to walk around this idea of “readiness.” What would it look like to truly assess this for a child? Not in terms of their age or grade, but rather their capacity for receptivity. Is this child ready? Is hurrying them - is speeding them along, trying to force the learning, pushing harder and further ahead - is this the way through? Or do we need to slow it down? Do we need to back up and look at how we can support this child? How can we create the kind of conditions that will LEAD to the child being ready?

Many times, instead of being swayed by the societal urge to push ahead, we need to pause - because sometimes a rest, sometimes retreat, is actually our best way forward. But we’ve become so afraid of “falling behind” that we have lost track of how growth actually happens.

I have a friend whose son struggled with math. It seemed to cause much frustration and so she made the decision to not put that pressure on him and instead to wait. He wasn’t ready. His mind wasn’t quite wired up to be able to process or take it in. When he was 12 years old, his brain suddenly was ready. I say “suddenly” but in reality all of the opportunities he had to play and explore, without the pressure of performance, built and prepared the neural pathways for the processing that was needed. And he not only stepped into math with ease, but he loved it and went on to become an engineer. Math became his world. Was it because he started early? No. No, if he started early, his frustration and discouragement may have created a block; he may have decided that he was no good at it and given up.

I took that story to heart, and when my own daughter was struggling with math in those early years, I decided to take the pressure off. Her brain seemed to work differently, and she wasn’t ready quite yet. And so rather than push through, I retreated. I provided many opportunities for her to play with the concepts and ideas - through recipes in the kitchen, building chicken coops, and well, just everyday life. But we pressed pause on the “curriculum” until she was 13. At that point, she was hungry for it and stepped right into an advanced level of math. She maintained a love for math that continued into university, where one semester she decided to take calculus as an elective.

We just don’t know what we are sacrificing when we push ahead or when we bypass the readiness of a child in the urge to impart knowledge that we, as adults or as society, thinks is important. When we don’t allow time for the natural process of exploration and discovery, we may find our shortcuts don’t hold out in the end. Not only may we snuff out a child’s spark for learning, but we may even affect how they see themselves - as not good enough or smart enough.

The moral of my story here, the message I hope to communicate, is: when in doubt, ease up. Trust in the developmental process. They’ll get there - or at least get to whatever their unique potential is once their brain and their heart are ready. Our job is to spend more energy creating the conditions for this to happen naturally, instead of pushing for outcomes. Can we find ways to create a more natural learning environment? Can we find ways to bring the child’s alarm down? How can we capture their interest in a different way, perhaps engaging them in their learning for the first time? Is there a spark we can ignite? Can we invite them to lean in and depend on us?

We have become fearful of this too - this idea of dependence - without realizing that this is our way through to them coming to their own thoughts and ideas and motivation. Not by pushing them, or teaching them these things - but by creating enough safety in the relationship with us that they have the courage to venture forth and explore their world. For some, this sense of safety may take longer to establish; there may be reasons the child is ​​reticent to trust or to lean. In this case, it would indicate a need for more connection, not more force.

Our way through is in the pause, in the rest, in the opportunities for free play where the pressure to perform is lifted, if only for a window of time. This is where true readiness for learning will come.

Bridging helps kids feel more connected

Children need a strong sense of connection to us if we are meant to guide them. We also need to keep the connection from being disrupted. When the end of the school day is coming up, the child knows that the connection with you is coming to an end, which means disconnection. For some children, this may trigger their alarm. The answer is obviously not to follow them home. The challenge becomes helping them bridge to the next connecting point: “I look forward to seeing you tomorrow,” or something similar that brings attention to the next time of connection. Bridging is important whenever something threatens the connection—whether it be a lack of belonging, not feeling accepted or emotionally invited, a physical distance, or even the passage of time.

Holidays and summer breaks can be particularly difficult for some students. How can we support these students?

Find a way to help them hold on to you—whether it is a note you send, an object they can take with them that reminds them of you, or something else creative. It doesn’t have to be big or expensive. Sometimes I make felted wool hearts that I give to my students at the end of a class, which gives them a tangible reminder of our time together and lets them know that I am thinking about them. This can be especially helpful at the end of a school year, when they will be transitioning to another class. Bridging can also mean looking ahead: introducing the next teacher in order to lessen the anxiety of the unknown.

Many of the things we have talked about come into play even more when we have a child with anxiety, who needs greater assurance. We must strengthen our connection so the child feels safe with us and feels our warmth while feeling confident in our ability to take the lead, so they don’t have to. Communicating “I’ve got this” can go a long way to lowering our alarm for children and adults alike. (Read more: Reclaiming our Students, p. 104/105)

Matchmaking helps us to pass the ‘attachment baton’

Matchmaking works by harnessing the energy from the existing connection a student already has to help them build another connection. We can intentionally harness this energy as we transition the care of our students to others that will be leading and caring for them.

Here are some scenarios where bridging and matchmaking can help support connection, which in turn can help provide the conditions needed for learning to happen:

• from main teacher to substitute teacher;
• from current support person to the next support person (eg. counsellor, educational assistant, learning assistant, etc);
• from one grade to the next (eg. the teacher in June to the next teacher in September).

What matchmaking might look like

As many of us know first-hand, substitute teaching (also known as occasional, supply, relief, casual, or teaching on call) has to be one of the most challenging ways to teach. Since relationship is the context in which kids learn, substitute teachers can be at a loss. Understanding this, many schools are shifting how they use substitute teachers. Schools now often have the students’ usual teacher matchmake their students to the substitute teacher.

Keeping in mind the importance of relationship in learning, some schools now introduce the substitute teachers at the beginning of the year and try to consistently use the same replacement teacher. However, that’s not possible for many schools. In these cases, I have heard from some teachers that they leave a letter for their students in the file for the teacher replacing them. This is a letter of introduction that the substitute teacher reads out loud to the class. What’s important is that the letter matchmakes on both sides. The teacher would, of course, make the letter age appropriate and relevant to the specific scenario as well.

The letter might be something along the lines of:

Dear class, sorry I am away. Ugh. I am sick. I have asked Mr. Singh to come in while I am away. He is a good teacher (ask him to show you his crazy spelling game!). He will take care of you until I’m back. I look forward to seeing you soon.

Dear Mr. Singh, thanks for coming in; you are lucky as you get to teach my awesome class. You will be in good hands as these students are very welcoming and hard-working. Ask them to show you the timeline they just made. I think you’ll find it interesting.

Although letters like these don’t replace the teacher, nor do they instantly create a trusting relationship, they can go a long way in helping the students connect to this new person they have for the day. The substitute teacher will still need to do the work of collecting them, but you will have laid some groundwork as the teacher who is in relationship with the students. (Read more: Reclaiming our Students, p. 79/80)

Letters like this can be particularly helpful when it comes to year-end transitions. The important thing to remember is that it is more than just passing information ABOUT the child; this is to help create a connection WITH the child, which is why the letters are written to both parties.

More practical matchmaking ideas

As a teacher of a class:

If you do know who the new teacher is for the following year, you can bring the new teacher into your class in June. After a friendly introduction has been made, the future teacher can share an activity with the students. Sharing food and a playful activity are natural ways to build a sense of connection.

If you do NOT yet know who the new teacher is for the following year, then you can facilitate a transition time in the first days of the new school year.

This could be:

• a short activity facilitated by the previous year’s teacher once they arrive at school. The students would be welcomed by the teacher they knew and then transitioned to their next teacher.

We have observed some schools spend up to a week with their teachers from the year before (or at least a familiar face), before they transition to their new teacher.

• simply just pop into your ‘old’ class to say hello to your previous students and be warm to their new teacher in front of them. Take a moment to say how lucky the teacher is to have these students and vice versa. You can also let them know that although you are no longer their teacher, you look forward to seeing them in the halls/playground etc.

This time of intentional connection and matchmaking can go a long way to increase the emotional safety of our students. There are many creative ways that this can be done once you realize the importance of connection for a child.

As a support person for a student:

If you are transitioning the care of your student as a support person, it will be important to orient the student to what will be happening (ie. if possible, don’t just disappear!) and make room for any feelings that may arise with this transition. If you have a good connection, the child may be sad and/or disappointed that they will no longer be with you. By making room for these feelings first, before going to the positive aspects of the change (eg. “You are going to love your new person – they are great!”), it helps build resilience in the child. By allowing the child to move through the difficult feelings, not dismissing or rushing them along to what you hope they will feel, their brain is more likely to recognize that they will be okay and be able to adapt to the upcoming change.

If you know who is replacing you, you can matchmake the child to the new person by speaking highly of them and introducing them to each other before you leave. Sharing food and a playful activity are natural ways to build a sense of connection.

If you do NOT know who is replacing you, you could write a general letter of introduction that warms each party to each other.

This letter might be something along the lines of:

Dear lucky person that gets to work with (name of student), I didn’t get the chance to meet you but I wanted you to know how fortunate you are to get to work with (name of student).

You then may say a few words about the students that reflect some of the positive things you know of and/or enjoyed about working with the student.

He/She has such a great sense of humour and also happens to be amazing with taking care of plants! Get him/her to show you the indoor garden they are working on.

In this case, as you don’t know who their new support person is, you cannot specifically speak about the new person to your previous student. Therefore the matchmaking would need to be done more generally, as in:

Dear (name of student), I’ve been thinking about you. I know that this year you are working with someone new. I didn’t get the chance to meet him/her but I am sure that you are in good hands! I have told them how lucky they are to get to work with you. I also told them how great you are with plants! Show them the garden you have been working on …

SOME FINAL THOUGHTS on helping students hold on to you when apart – for whatever reason:

Giving a child an object as a way to remember your connection can be really helpful; however, this can sometimes increase anxiety if they are worried about losing it. For this reason, you could do something more symbolic, like giving an actual rock but describing how any rock they see could remind them of your connection (note that you could do this with any object in nature: ocean, tree, pinecones, dandelions, etc.). While you could go directly to something intangible, sometimes it does help to start with a concrete object that represents something else that can be found easily in their environment.

Giving a child an object as a way to remember your connection can be really helpful; however, this can sometimes increase anxiety if they are worried about losing it. For this reason, you could do something more symbolic, like giving an actual rock but describing how any rock they see could remind them of your connection (note that you could do this with any object in nature: ocean, tree, pinecones, dandelions, etc.). While you could go directly to something intangible, sometimes it does help to start with a concrete object that represents something else that can be found easily in their environment.

The book, The Invisible String, by Patrice Karst, is a wonderful resource to introduce this idea of staying connected when apart. The Kissing Hand and A Pocketful of Kisses, by Audrey Penn, are other wonderful resources with this same idea of holding on; these are more often used to help a child hold on to a family member while they are at school, but the concepts can be adapted to any situation.

Remember that while you may no longer be physically with your student or students, relationship can be forever. In fact, we both still have fond memories of teachers and students that we felt connected to in the past, and their memory lives on in our hearts.

by Hannah Beach and Tamara Strijack

I watched my youngest son get ready for his first day of high school this week. He chose his favourite ‘French-fry and hamburger’ socks to wear under his sandals (yes, he loves to rock a good sock) for the first day. Was he a bit nervous? Sure – that’s completely normal. But he was also really looking forward to it. He loves his school. He feels welcomed by the teachers. He has good friends. My son’s high school is in the same building (different section) as his middle school was, so he was already familiar with much of the environment, and it felt good to him to be returning to this community.

As we pulled into his school, he saw one of the students who had experienced a lot of behaviour challenges and aggression eruptions the previous year, and my son said, “Oh, there’s ‘so and so’ … I wonder if he changed over the summer.” My insides warmed when I heard this, as I was happy that my son also held the belief that we are not this or that, but that we are in a constant state of becoming. Who we are is not fixed.

This got me thinking about how some kids have their identities cemented over and over again, for good or bad. Some students will be returning to school with very warm welcomes and messages of, “It’s great to see you back!” and “It’s going to be another awesome year, buddy!” Whilst others would be coming back to the eagle-eye look with messages of, “I am watching you” or “You better behave this year.”

What we see is often what we get.

This little interaction with my son brought me back to my first year of high school when I too was 14, the exact age of my son now. I reflected on what my teachers saw in me that year and how what they saw supported the unfolding of my growth.

Grade nine was not my best year. It was my first year in a new school. My friend group had begun to get involved in things that didn’t exactly sit right with me or my values … so I had quite a few lunches where I awkwardly ate alone while reading a book, as I had not yet found ‘my people.’ It was really a year of feeling very in-between and unsure, as many teen years are. I had so many big and mixed-up feelings. Angst. Awkwardness. Self-consciousness. And yet I also felt the excitement of getting to know myself and figuring out who I wanted to be. But these discoveries were new to me, still fuzzy, and not yet shared with the outside world.

Looking back, I am not sure what I seemed like to my teachers at that time. Quiet? Shy, maybe? That would be my best guess.

Me, at age 14, being the Principal of the school for the day.

That year, my school decided to select one student to be the Principal of the school for a day. I am not sure why, but the teachers chose me. I often wonder if they really did see my leadership potential and therefore gave me a leadership role or if they were intentionally providing me with an experience so that I could discover this capacity within me. I will never know the intention behind why I was selected for this experience, but what I do know is that I got to experience leadership – which, in turn, helped me to become a leader. For this, I will forever be grateful. The newspaper captured a picture of me that day, and I have to laugh at the 80’s look of my ruffled blouse and curled bangs. (I tried to look very grown up and had borrowed my older sister’s clothes. 😊)

At the end of that year, I moved to a different city and attended another new school for grades 10 and 11. I brought with me my growing, yet fledgling, identity as a leader. Again, I was lucky enough to have teachers that saw the student’s gifts and capacity, often before we saw them ourselves. I loved this new school with all my heart. I genuinely felt like our teachers loved teaching us. We felt respected, and in return, we were full of respect right back. In this warm environment, I fully stepped into myself. I joined clubs, I volunteered, I took on leadership roles in the Student Council, and I did all I could to be a part of this community.

Same kid: Different school culture

At the end of grade 11, another move! That summer, my parents moved cities, and I started a new school for grade twelve. Grade 12 is a challenging time to start a new school, but given my past positive experiences with school, I wasn’t too worried. I entered the school expecting to like it and ready to embrace it.

However, in my very first week, I had the first of many experiences that led me to feel otherwise.

I had gone to the library to get some books. I had my backpack on as it was the end of the day, and I was going to walk home afterwards. As I walked in, the librarian curtly stated, “No backpacks.” She didn’t make eye contact with me, and she wasn’t warm. In fact, I would say she sounded angry. I was quite surprised that I wasn’t allowed to come in with my backpack and asked her why. She responded tartly that it was because they didn’t want any of their books stolen. I was shocked, and if I am being honest, maybe a bit hurt too. Did she think I was a robber? Did she really think I was going to steal their books? Well, I had never stolen anything in my life, but I can tell you that at that moment I sure felt like stealing their books. (Well, if that’s what you think of me …) But of course, I didn’t. My identity had already formed enough to know who I was and who I wasn’t. And I wasn’t a person who stole things.

I continued to have experiences like this throughout my year at this school. It was like the teachers were against us. It was them versus us. It was as if they saw us as trouble-makers from the get-go and were trying to catch us being bad so they could teach us a lesson. And in this space, I became a different student than I was at the other schools. I came to school, did what I had to and then went home. I didn’t share in class. I didn’t volunteer, nor did I join clubs. I simply got through it. I was the very same student, just in a different school culture. This school never got to know my gifts, nor did I grow under their leadership. Different school cultures will get different results.

Making room for something new to emerge

I was lucky, as across my life I had been fortunate enough to have had so many positive experiences of caring leadership reflecting back my potential to me that one bad year didn’t shift me. However, I know that this is not the case for many students.

Our toughest students, the ones with the most troubling behavior, are the ones that need us to see their goodness the most. Because what we see is so often what we get.

Is this hard? Yes, it really is. Our most challenging and prickly students may make us want to withdraw. Their goodness or capacity can be so hard to see. But this is what we can lean into. This is what we can strive for so that we can potentially make room for shifts and new possibilities to unfold.

So, how can we do this?

We can welcome all students back with warmth and eagerness.

We should not reserve our warmth for the kids that behave well. Our toughest and most prickly students need our warmth too, often the most. Our warmth indicates to them that we see them as good. We see them as worthwhile. We see their capacity.

When we see the goodness and capacity in a student before it is exhibited, they receive the gift of seeing themselves through our eyes. Our seeing makes it more possible that they will see it as well.

They may discover themselves in the positive reflection of them that we provide.

And don’t worry if you get no response; your warmth may not be immediately reciprocated. Do not take this as an indicator that your warmth does not matter or that it is not working. Your warmth may be quietly and gently landing within them. Change takes time.

Your warmth is making room for something new to emerge.

We can provide students with experiences in which they get to feel and discover their capacity.

We can offer these experiences to our most challenged students in lots of little ways that can create tiny openings for change—miniature cracks in their previously negative or limited ideas of who they are.

Even small things like asking a child who rarely shows any leadership initiative to lead something for one minute can help. They may be surprised by our ask, as they may not have seen themselves this way. They then get to feel their ability to lead—even if it is only for one minute—and start to believe they are capable of this new role.

Instead of waiting for our students to show us their leadership abilities before we see them and treat them as leaders, we can develop the opposite mantra: Help every student experience leading as a means to discovering this capacity in themselves.

This is the same for all the discoveries we hope for our students to find in themselves. These experiences allow students to loosen their ideas of who they are and experience the feeling of being caring or capable or a leader. It opens up all sorts of new possibilities within our students.

Our belief and our ability to see the inherent goodness and capacity within each of our students matters, and the experiences we offer them to eventually know and feel this for themselves matter too.

We can try to see what’s possible, rather than simply seeing what is before us.

This year, let’s see beyond behavior – beyond the literal of what is right in front of us. Let our seeing of what is not there yet, anchor us and guide our caring leadership.

Let’s see possibility, capacity and resilience. Because what we see is often what we get.

Hannah Beach is an award-winning educator, author, and keynote speaker. She was recognized by the Canadian Human Rights Commission in 2017 as one of five featured change-makers in Canada. She is the co-author of Reclaiming Our Students: Why Children Are More Anxious, Aggressive, and Shut Down Than Ever—And What We Can Do About It (released April 2020). She delivers professional development services across the country and provides emotional health consulting to schools. Find her online at hannahbeach.ca.

Building Relationships

“Nido” means “nest” in a number of languages, explains school principal Tarah Feldman. Staff work hard to create a space that feels safe to children—a “home away from home.”

“We view everything through a relationship framework lens,” she says in the school’s virtual tour. This, of course, includes relationships between and among teachers and children, but also those with other people, the community, the land, and the environment.

Staff teach in small teams so they can support each other and share “the belief that there’s no learning that occurs without relationships and without children feeling safe and connected,” Tarah tells me. “It’s not something that we say, but it’s something that we live and practice every single day.”

It’s all about knowing each child as an individual, she explains. That way, staff can make good guesses as to what each needs in one particular moment. “Our educators are so amazing at holding space” for children’s big feelings, she adds. There is no point in encouraging children to learn or to do something like putting on their shoes while they’re upset. That is the time to focus on the relationship. Later, after a moment of connection, staff nudge children towards putting on their shoes or considering other children’s feelings.

One way the school takes relationships into consideration is through the gradual entry process that all children go through. Parents expect to stay for an hour on the first day until their child has gotten to know the staff. Then at the end of the day, staff and parents plan together for the next day, depending on how the first day went for the child. For some children, the transition only takes a few days. But for others, it’s longer. In one case, it took three months for a toddler to stay for full days without a parent. The process takes each child’s unique needs into consideration, Tarah says, rather than being the same for all.

Even after a child is attending the school full-time, staff make sure to connect with families at pick-up and drop-off time.

A Flowing Schedule

There are no bells or timetables telling Nido students to drop what they are doing and switch activities. Rather than a schedule, Tarah says, “We have a flow of the day.”

Children need a certain amount of consistency and predictability to feel comfortable and safe. For example, they eat and sleep at set times. But apart from that, there is space for children to follow their own interests.

Learning through exploration

Learning happens when children are feeling safe. “It can be an amazing curriculum, but it’s not going to go anywhere if the child is not receptive to learning,” Tarah says.

She and her team believe that children are naturally curious, and their gentle teaching works with that curiosity. They aim to help children have fun as they learn how to inquire about things that matter to them—how to formulate questions and look for answers.

“We try to sit back and let our children’s interests and curiosity emerge,” Tarah explains. As they look for and encourage each child’s interests, they focus on “really viewing [the children] as capable.”

Learning happens in different ways, whether the children are out exploring the neighbourhood with their teachers or working with art supplies. Experimentation is encouraged, as teachers leave out materials without telling children how they should use them.

After a time in this relaxed environment, Tarah says, even resistant children start to play. One three-year-old boy initially refused to draw because he said he wasn’t good at it, but now he happily creates his own drawings and asks teachers to document his art.

As children follow their interests, they learn a variety of skills without being formally taught. “As much as we view literacy and numeracy as important,” Tarah says, “we are confident that our children are going to do literacy and numeracy.” These important skills are woven into everything the children do, so teachers don’t have to stand in front of the class and teach the alphabet. Instead, children learn through activities like singing and counting rocks in the playground.

Educating Adults

It is sometimes difficult for adults who grew up in a more regimented school system to teach in this more open way, Tarah says. All of the Nido teachers are committed to the philosophy of putting relationships and children’s interests ahead of more conventional teaching, but they face challenges along the way.

And although they work with “amazing families,” sometimes the parents don’t understand all the aspects of this philosophy. Parents often say they have chosen this education for their child because they see its value and wish they’d had it for themselves. But at the same time, they worry because it is so different from the familiar, and from what they think is necessary for their child to be successful. So Nido staff spend a fair bit of time educating them as well.

A Different Education

Some parents of Nido students apply for their three-year-olds to attend junior kindergarten in private schools. They ask Nido for report cards and references, but the school won’t provide those because they don’t believe in them.

“Our mission is to transform what education looks like,” Tarah says. Nido’s commitment to empowering children “challenge[s] the norms and the structure of education.” She has become increasingly aware that this different way of educating needs to start with preschoolers.

Working with young children also gives teachers a lot of freedom, she explains, because there is no set curriculum, so they can design their own.

Tarah sees a lot of wonderful things happening in education, but believes the education system is too structured. “We want to be part of not tearing it all down, but challenging a little bit and pushing it a little bit in respectful ways. Our children are so capable and so amazing, and it is such an honour and a privilege to watch them develop what I would call life skills. Slowly, slowly, little by little, maybe we can create a system that’s actually designed for the children.”

A number of parents would seem to agree. Due to demand, Nido is preparing to open two new schools in other parts of the Greater Vancouver area next year.

Anna-Marie Krahn, BA, assists the director of facilitator training for the Neufeld Institute. She is a writer, librarian and adventure seeker.

Tamara and Rebecca had the pleasure of visiting the EPIC Learning Centre in Victoria, BC, where Tamara has been working as a consultant and mentor for the development of the school.

EPIC is a community consciously creating an opportunity for children and adults to come together to discover, create, play, reflect and learn. Learning at EPIC is deeply rooted in the natural world, taking place outside 3 days a week in small cohorts of up to 16 students. Each cohort is expertly guided by 2-3 adults who combine their extensive outdoor education, training and experience mentoring children. Families continue learning at home on other days of the week. A BC certified teacher leads the outdoor program and supervises each student’s home learning throughout the year. 

EPIC aspires to embrace and apply the work of the Neufeld Institute in a school setting. Their philosophy: “Work together towards emotional health and well-being, keeping children safe in a wounding world and supporting the unfolding of full student potential.”

As we (Tamara and Rebecca) drove into the parking lot of the EPIC learning site, we were greeted by a beautiful, sloping meadow slightly hazed by a faint mist, with trails leading to the forest beyond. It was early in the morning, and the air was crisp and refreshing, mixed with the earthy smell of fallen leaves. 

Children began to appear, running wildly and gleefully under an old chestnut tree, chasing and laughing. The teachers collected the children, drawing them into an invigorating dance party. Most of the children participated, while a few stood near their parents, soaking up tender cuddles and extra moments to say good-bye before taking cues from their teachers and joining in the dance. 

Once goodbyes were said and the children collected, we made our way along a trail through the meadow and up to a large, outdoor covered cabana. Here, the teachers led the children in a community circle time, acknowledging the traditional land of the Songhees, Esquimalt, Malahat and W̱SÁNEĆ peoples. The time was spent in honour and gratitude as reflected in the song sung to begin the day:

I can feel my heartbeat, beating to the rhythm of the forest song. When I say yes to the beat in me, I can send my spirit free. When I say yes to the beat in you, I can see your light shine through. (Freedom Song by Beautiful Chorus. The word ‘freedom’ in this song was replaced with ‘forest’.)

While the children participated in the community circle, some sat on the benches, others stood, and others wiggled. One student needed extra space away from the group, and found a little nook in a pile of leaves just outside the cabana. When the morning circle time was over, the children were divided into two groups. The younger Maple Group (K-Gr.2) and the older Salal Group (Gr. 2-3). 

The younger children gathered with their teachers, Catie and Sarah, for a story about the birds, listening while they ate their snacks. After the story, the teachers led the group to a clearing in the forest. Catie and Sarah took on the roles of a fox and a bear, using these characters to act out a story of expression and of colours that matched their feelings. The attention of the children was completely absorbed watching the adults engage in teaching through play. 

When the skit was over, the teachers walked the children around the boundaries of the play area in the forest. This created a physical container of safety for the children to explore. Catie and Sarah held a container of emotional safety for the children, masterfully coming alongside them, listening to their stories and assisting them in finding branches, building forts, or supporting them through social interactions. The children felt safe to come to their teachers with questions and wonderings. The teachers found graceful ways to allow feelings to be expressed and experiences to be shared.

It was quite remarkable to see the play that emerged in this hour. Building materials of branches, sticks, pinecones and firs were gathered and collected, forts were built, a log helicopter was structured, a miniature fairy world was created. The hour flew by in a flurry of exploration and creativity, magic and imagination. Loud “meows” echoed through the trees as one group of children played a game called ‘cougar family.’The cougar family needed to protect themselves from the hunter roaming through the forest, and shrieks of terror were heard as the hunter came near their den. It was beautiful to witness the children connect with empathy for the hunted and to play with their alarm as the story unfolded.

In the older group, the children explored the world of mushrooms. The curiosity was put forth by the teachers, Francie and Sydney. The learning was led by the children as they explored the forest, finding different varieties of mushrooms. The teachers provided answers to the kids' questions, and they learned something about the mushrooms that was interesting to them. Teachers drew out what the kids already knew and invited the children to sketch their findings and record their learnings.

During lunch, the teachers led the children to a different part of the forest, where everyone sat together: eating, talking, laughing and telling stories. As the children finished their lunches, they got up to play. A group of children started climbing up the side of a bank, balancing on top of logs and making their way through bushes growing on the incline. Catie and Sarah encouraged this activity, lending a hand as needed, but mostly leaving it up to the children to navigate the risks for themselves. Climbing up the logs, the kids were given space to explore their own limits.

When lunch was over, and the exploration of the logs on the bank came to a close, Catie and Sarah led the children on a walk, out of the forest to a meadow, near the bank of a pond. Here, the children were invited to find themselves a ‘sit spot’, and to quietly reflect on the activity of the birds around them.

It was magical to witness the stillness of the meadow, each child sitting and pondering in their own space. As the reflection time came to a close, the kids were eager and excited to share what they had heard and noticed: geese flying overhead, ducks swimming on the pond, crows squawking back and forth in response to each other. One student had woven a small nest out of a thin willow branch. “I’m going to leave this here for the birds in case they need a nest,” he announced.

This idea lit a spark, and several of the children excitedly went to play, using the materials they found in their surroundings to build nests for the birds. Catie noted that this spontaneous engagement often happened, saying that she rarely used the lessons she planned. The learning came about by simply following what the kids were interested in and excited about. Sarah encouraged the children to thank the land for the gifts it gave, and to remember to give something back to the land. The children caught on to this idea, hanging their birds' nests in the branches of the surrounding trees, and asking the adults for help to place their nests on branches higher than they could reach.

As the day came to a close, Catie and Sarah gathered the children around their ‘circle of gratitude’. Earlier in the week, the children had collected treasures they found in the forest and in the field, and had laid them in a circle as an offering of thanks. It was a joy to witness the children’s excitement as they showed off their contributions in the ‘circle of gratitude’. The excitement spilt over into a happy dance, with Sarah stepping into the lead with her epic dance moves. Before saying goodbye, the children shared and reflected on their day and their ideas, while Catie and Sarah expertly facilitated a safe place for the children to be heard. Catie shared peppermint tea from a large thermos with the children, an end-of-the-day ritual that added another layer of warmth to the time of connection.

The day ended with a final song:  

Standing like a tree with my roots down deep, my branches wide and open. Down comes the rain, down comes the sun, down comes the love to a heart that is open too. (Standing Like a Tree written by Burns and Kristy)

The children and teachers gathered again to walk once more through the meadow, where parents and caregivers waited under the old chestnut tree to collect their children after an epic day of learning in nature.

It was at one of these concerts nearly a year ago that I began to reflect upon the impact that music might have on these individual children. I wondered about the benefits of music, its effect on their emotional development and their ability to learn at school. I contrasted this with the many children I worked with as a school counsellor, who were not fortunate enough to have music or other art activities in their lives. My mind went to some children who, due to their severe behavioural issues, were only able to be at school for a couple of hours a day. My thoughts continued to wander throughout that concert, daydreaming about what more could be done to offer hope for these troubled children.

Dr. Neufeld’s pyramid for Realization of Human Potential came to my mind. I knew that the importance of right relationships, soft hearts, rest and play were all vital ingredients to finding a solution for these children. I reflected on how, when we cannot start with right relationships, the pyramid can be inverted. We can begin to find our way through starting with play. How could we make a difference for these children by introducing them to play using music and art? If they had music for their play, could that lead to limbic rest, giving their hearts a chance to soften enough to develop the capacity for right relationships with the adults in their world? How could we offer support for hearts to soften and right relationships to unfold?

Over the next few weeks, my daydreaming quickly turned into conversations and planning, resulting in the birth of a programme called Kids Resync. Kids Resync caters to children aged 5 - 12 years who are not able to fully engage in school due to behaviour or other issues such as anxiety. My aim was to help these children re-sync to the safe adults in their world - the ones who are able to help them make sense of themselves and their emotional world through play and while at school. On sharing this idea with the school where I counsel, they became excited about the programme and quickly made a list of the students who would benefit the most.

During the school term, the children arrive every Monday with their parents and caregivers through the doors at Kids Resync. Parent and caregiver attendance and participation is a non-negotiable part of the programme. Each child starts a play session with a counsellor. This provides an opportunity for the child’s emotions to be expressed through play. We use Dr. Neufeld’s Five Steps to Emotional Development as our guide to help us determine where each child might be in their development, and how we can continue using play to foster invitations for further growth and maturation.

While the children are in their play sessions, the parents and caregivers have a session of their own. Here, we work together to help make sense of what is happening for their child from an attachment-developmental perspective. This also creates an opportunity for the parents and caregivers to be heard and to have their own feelings validated.

Once the sessions are finished, parents and caregivers reunite and reconnect with their children over morning tea. In our programme, we have access to a coffee machine where coffee and hot chocolate can be made, served with home baking and fresh fruit. While the warm drinks and snacks are enjoyed, staff set up play activities for parents, caregivers and their children to engage in together. We offer alternating sessions, one week working with a professional musician and the next week, an occupational therapist.

In the music sessions, children and their parents and caregivers are given the opportunity to play with music. Our musician provides space and materials to build a ukulele, or to decorate bucket drums. Other sessions include learning basic chords on the ukulele, drumming together, creating songs and other forms of art or making room for spontaneous musical play. This also provides an opportunity for relationships to unfold, as our musician takes time to hear some of the hopes and dreams parents and caregivers have for their children. At the end of the term, our musician composes, records and gifts a special, personal song to each child.

In sessions with our occupational therapist, the focus is on supporting children to find expression for their emotional energy through sensory-based activities and games. Our occupational therapist provides fun activities for parents and caregivers to use as play together at home during the week.

Our Kids Resync programme has been running for a year now with a great deal of success! We are still evaluating and dreaming of ways we can adapt, incorporating new and playful ways to meet the needs of the children, parents and caregivers. One of the strengths of our programme is our team. Each person works from the attachment-developmental approach, and brings their individual disciplines, insights and perspectives. This offers richness and depth to our discussions; each of us gaining greater insight into what is happening for every child.

It warms our hearts to hear feedback from the parents, telling us that they are now enjoying more playful moments together with their children and that their children are able to express and talk about their feelings more frequently. Some of the children have been able to transition back to full days at school. We have also had reports about children continuing to play the ukulele, or beginning drumming lessons. Some continue to write songs and have become more engaged in their artwork. As a team, we feel so privileged to be part of this journey. These children now have playgrounds where their big emotions can be expressed. My hope is that this will continue to provide what is needed for their emotional well-being, increasing their ability to learn and play as I had originally envisioned while sitting in the children’s music concert a year ago.