Where the Wild Things Are

Trying to catch a glimpse of the fox in its den.

The woods.  Both figuratively and literally speaking, it's the foundation on which Pathfinder sits.  To see a class hiking through the woods on any given day is about as predictable as snow on the first day of spring in Michigan; it's a sure bet.  This aspect of the Pathfinder education is one that may be hard to measure, but whose benefits are indisputable.  Spend just five minutes reading Last Child in the Woods by Richard Louv (2005) and you'll see what I mean.  (Seriously, if you read no other parenting book, get your hands on this book!)

On one snowy afternoon last week, I observed this mystique in action.  I accompanied first and second grade students on a hike with second grade teacher Kate Caliri.  Snowpants, boots, and mittens duly on, we headed out with our mission:  What animals might live in the Pathfinder woods?  How do we know?  What might we look for?  Not more than a few moments later, one child appealed for silence to hear the nearby call of a bird.  A few steps more and another child dropped to the ground, yelling "Tracks!"  All the children immediately circled in to observe and identify the tracks.  Then they continued on their way, nodding in confirmation, "Yep, a squirrel." 

On their bellies and bottoms, the kids slid down a favorite path, whooping with glee.  Thanks to the 22 acre campus, these wild things know the woods well.  Distinctive trees, paths, and clearings indicate their location.  With them as my guide, I could see I was in good hands.  The group traveled as a pack, scanning the snow for tracks, scat, nests and dens.  During the hike, they pointed out not only squirrel tracks, but also those of bunnies, birds, deer, and fox.  The second graders had recently seen Pathfinder's resident fox trotting across the frozen Cedar Lake shore on one of their morning hikes.  Inspired by the tracks, Ms. Kate led the group down the wooded path to the fox's den.  As Kate whispered her strategy, the kids leaned in and listened closely, their silent breath visible in the cold air.  We approached the den with reverence - waiting, watching and willing the fox to come out.  It was a mystical moment.  Having decided our fox friend was also out hiking, we moved on, unsuccessful in our sighting but somehow still satisfied.

We stopped in the Middle of Nowhere Special, where the sun dapples nicely through the branches, and plunked down in the snow.  We shared animal stories old-fashioned style:  aloud, spontaneously, from memory.   One child told a legend of the giant fish as big as a school bus that lives in Cedar Lake, explaining the wide dark areas of the water.  Another child keenly observed an eagle circling in the distant sky, so we passed along the binoculars Ms. Kate had wisely brought.  By popular request, we made our way to The Secret Beach. This is one of a few inside Pathfinder gems known only by its students and staff.  Once there, some played among the trees, others built a snowman, and a few children just sat and quietly absorbed the open expanse of frozen lake and landscape.

As our hike drew to a close, Ms. Kate steered us up a hill leading to the edge of The Hall of Trees.  She explained to me the second graders' tradition of "creating an intention" before entering the narrow, tree-lined passage.  Each child thought of a kind word or deed to reflect upon while moving silently through the passageway, and would exit on the other side with these positive thoughts in the forefront of his/her mind.  It was again, for me and for all involved, a mystical moment.  I finished the hike with that certain clarity you gain from a little exercise and a breath of fresh air.  And I walked "back over a year and in and out of weeks and through a day" (Where the Wild Things Are, Sendak), grateful that my children play and learn where the wild things are.

-- Tricia Moore, parent