09/19/2026
There's a subtle but important part of our day at forest school that I'd like to share with you here.
It might seem like we spend the whole day exploring the forest, getting creative at the pond, splashing around in the creek, reading books, learning from each other and bonding at the playground. And that's almost true.
But it takes time to move from the playground to the forest. From the forest to the lake. From the lake to our favourite creek spot. From wherever we are, to wherever the children choose to lead us.
We could line everyone up in a (likely futile) attempt to get from point A to point B as efficiently as possible, to maximize our "play time."
But we would miss so much.
When we lean into the journey, without rushing or worrying too much about order, there is so much that can happen in that space between.
The children bond. They reflect. They play and talk. They get creative. They show up for each other. They stop to look at things. They come up with ideas I never could have planned.
One day, I watched the kids spontaneously fall into single file and balance along a painted line on the path. I remember thinking that I couldn't have lined them up more perfectly if I'd tried. No instructions, no organizing — it just happened.
I've watched bigger kids work together to pull younger kids in the wagon (and little kids pull big kids) in the fastest or most interesting way possible. I've watched an older child quietly guide younger children through a part of the forest that felt a little scary to them. And I've found myself listening to conversations about nature, spirituality, the universe, and everything in between.
None of these things were the plan.
We were just on our way somewhere.
More and more, I'm realizing how much can happen in that space between.
