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The Ngahere Project: Teaching
and learning possibilities in
nature settings
!
Janette Kelly and E. Jayne White
University of Waikato
with Marion Dekker, Julie Donald, Kathryn Hart, Fiona McKay,
Lynley McMillan, Amy Mitchell-King and Gill Wright
Wilf Malcolm Institute of Educational Research
Hamilton, New Zealand
2
Cover design: Michael Collins, Faculty of Education, The University of Waikato
First published 2013
By Wilf Malcolm Institute of Educational Research
Faculty of Education
The University of Waikato
Private Bag 3105
Hamilton, 3240, New Zealand
Authors
Janette Kelly
E. Jayne White
with Marion Dekker, Julie Donald, Kathryn Hart, Fiona McKay,
Lynley McMillan, Amy Mitchell-King and Gill Wright
ISBN 0-9582504-9-9
© Wilf Malcolm Institute of Educational Research
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reprinted, reproduced or utilised in any
form by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including
photocopying or recording, or in any information retrieval system without permission in writing
of the publishers.
3
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This study would not have taken place without the teachers who participated in the research and
shared their experiences, pedagogy and thinking. They were:
• Henare Gurney, Roxy Burt, Rina Greaves, Jenelle Pearce, Julie Sullivan, Cathie Perkins,
Donya Feci, Kerryn Montgomerie, Debbie Dagger, Natalie Bell, Maryanne Gilbert,
Donna Wynyard, Carolyn Smart, Tim Bennett, Joy Lambert, Lex Littler, Mel Freeman,
Vanessa Ericksen, Sue Youngman, Gaynor Appleford and Trudy Seymour;
• Management representatives: Tauranga Regional Free Kindergarten Association
Principal, Peter Monteith and Senior Teacher, Annette Sheehy and Campus Creche
Director, Sue Bennett;
• Lead researchers: Marion Dekker, Kathryn Hart, Gill Wright, Fiona McKay, Lynley
McMillan, Julie Donald and Amy Mitchell-King. These women had key roles in all
aspects of the project. We acknowledge their ongoing engagement and efforts especially
the leadership roles they played throughout the project.
We appreciate their willingness to undertake action research, to critically examine their
pedagogy, to contribute their ideas and views at meetings and in focus groups, and to be open to
our critique of teaching and learning, and their representations of teaching and learning in their
settings.
We thank all of the 200 children in the research project for consenting to be involved, and their
families/whānau who also consented to their involvement, and who supported the nature-based
education programmes in these research sites.
We acknowledge The University of Waikato staff who contributed to this research. Bronwen
Cowie and Linda Mitchell provided advice and support throughout the project; the Faculty of
Education Research Ethics Committee and the Research and Leave Committee approved and
funded the project and this report; the Department of Professional Studies funded the launch;
and the informal sustainability support group encouraged us along the way. Thanks also to
Courtney White and Leah Graham for their transcription work, Michael Collins for the cover
and diagrams, Margaret Drummond for layout and overseeing the editing of the report, Waikato
Print for their work, and the Wilf Malcolm Institute of Educational Research (WMIER) and the
Early Years Research Centre who published the report.
Without permission from the landowners and kaitiaki, young children learning in these contexts
would not have been possible: Waikato-Tainui iwi—The University of Waikato; Gill and
Geoff—Brann’s Farm (Roydon Downs); Pukemokemoke Bush Reserve Trust; David and Chloe
Blackley—Summerhill Recreational Farm; and Ngāi Te Rangi, Ngāti Ranginui and Ngāti
Pūkenga iwi—Mauao (Mount Maunganui). We thank them for their continued support of
nature-based education.
Finally, the support, and additional funding for teacher release and other costs, from the
Tauranga Region Kindergartens and Campus Creche Trust contributed to the successful
completion of this research project. Their leadership in Education for sustainability (EfS) and
community-based ECE, as well as ongoing support for research in their settings are also
acknowledged and appreciated.
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Engagement with the outdoors is a core element of New Zealand’s heritage, identity and culture.
Taken together with our status as international curriculum leaders in early childhood education
(ECE), we are uniquely placed to contribute to the worldwide community in relation to
pedagogical implications for education in the outdoors. This research explored ECE pedagogy
‘within’ and ‘beyond’ the gate in ECE settings committed to sustainability. The findings have
universal relevance and are in keeping with the New Zealand ECE emphasis on bicultural
practice and diversity of provision and programmes.
The Ngahere Project was an 18-month-long action research project involving Tauranga Region
Kindergartens in the Bay of Plenty, Campus Creche Trust in Hamilton and the University of
Waikato. Teachers from the six research sites and their leadership representatives shared a
commitment to sustainability. A lead teacher researcher was identified in three sessional or
extended day kindergartens, two full-day education and care centres and a home-based
education setting to oversee the research and liaise with the two researchers from the University
of Waikato who led the project. Leadership representatives, teachers and the home-based
educator and coordinators, children and several Maori elders were involved in the project
The project considered the following overarching questions:
1. What might nature-based learning look like in diverse Aotearoa New Zealand ECE
services that are committed to sustainability?
2. What are some of the pedagogical issues and provocations teachers face in this domain?
Each research site also had a supplementary research question (See Table 1) and focus groups
were held at the start and near the end of the project. To answer these questions, a mosaic of
participatory research tools and methods relevant to young children was used (Clark & Moss,
2001). We drew on key theories that would support the perspectives of young children and were
committed to listening and seeing multiple interpretations of the data and children’s learning.
With the support of university researchers, participants at each site nominated tools specific to
their research question and read literature specific to their research question. Data was generated
over an eight week period. It included a variety of methods: learning stories; video diaries and
reflections; videoed staff meetings and ‘group-time’ discussions; oral interviews with Māori
elders; and stimulated recall interviews with children about their photography.
As there had been little research into ECE pedagogy outdoors in this country to date, this project
aimed to better understand what nature-based learning might look like in a range of ECE
settings in Aotearoa New Zealand. We also wanted to examine the relationship between nature
education and sustainability. The combination of research tools and questions across research
sites helped us to see and hear children’s and teachers’ perspectives of learning experiences in
nature settings. Findings suggest a variety of ways that learning occurs in natural environments,
what it might entail and some of the pedagogical issues and challenges teachers face.
#56.789:89;<.
1. Teachers call upon a combination of sources to inform their practice. Some are unique to
Aotearoa New Zealand, for example the Treaty of Waitangi, Te Whāriki and Enviroschools,
while others are international such as the United Nations Convention on the Rights of the
Child (UNCROC) and early childhood education for sustainability (ECEfS).
2. Nature environments ‘within’ and ‘beyond the gate’ are powerful contexts for children’s
learning in, about, for and with the environment.
3. Children, teachers, and Papatūānuku—the living earth—are partners in ‘place responsive’
relationships, and agents in a curriculum that responds to the daily provocations of nature
itself.
5
4. Through careful scrutiny of their practice, teachers ‘revisioned’ their pedagogical roles in
relation to the curriculum in the outdoor classroom.
5. Nature education and education for sustainability foster affective learning and incorporate
embodied ways of knowing. They involve minds, bodies and hearts.
6. Relevant teaching strategies outdoors include observation, silence and being a play partner.
Mediating or community building teaching strategies consistent with collective ways of
being, knowing, hearing and seeing are also highlighted. All are associated with nature-
based learning.
7. Multiple opportunities and possibilities for hands-on, real life play, creativity and learning,
risk and challenge are readily available in nature environments.
8. Very young children are agents of their own learning and this agency is magnified in the
outdoors. Teachers who take the time to listen and see children’s rich contributions are
enriched themselves.
9. The natural route to sustainability for young children is via discovery, and experience, of
the wonder, mystery and enjoyment of the natural world we inhabit alongside other living
things.
Table 1: Example of key findings in relation to supplementary research questions
Research site
Supplementary question
Key findings (in brief)
Campus Creche
Preschool
Ngahere Explorers
programme
How do teachers ‘see’
children’s dispositions
being affected by nature-
based curriculum
experiences?
Learning stories and video diaries highlighted the
primacy teachers gave to three key dispositions:
resilience, key to engaging with nature, imagination
via storytelling, and reciprocity seen in becoming a
group member (Carr et al., 2009).
Campus Creche
Teenies
What professional
judgments do teachers
make during outings with
children, and why?
The darker side of risk (Stephenson, 2003) and
consideration of opportunities and challenges for
toddlers, featured in video diaries. Judgements based
on knowing the child and environment, trusting
others and working out whether to intervene and
when, were all highlighted.
Papamoa
Kindergarten
How do children express
their working theories after
regular engagement with
nature outside the gate?
Findings show the multi-modal ways children
express working theories; teachers’ increased
consciousness of their power when making
assumptions about children’s interests and meanings,
thereby hijacking the direction of activities or
conversations (Peters & Davis, 2011); and embracing
uncertainty in teaching and learning.
Paengaroa
Kindergarten
How does the nature
environment influence
teacher pedagogy?
The powerful influence of nature on pedagogy was
reinforced as teachers acknowledged the time and
space the environment afforded them. Teachers
became mindful of slowing down, standing back and
observing, and talking as team to reach shared
understandings of what constitutes safety and risk.
Maungaarangi
Kindergarten
What can local tikanga
Māori teach a kindergarten
learning community about
engaging with nature?
Teachers realised the depth of the children’s
understanding of the kindergarten’s kaupapa and
tikanga Māori. Elders identified that the kindergarten
curriculum – even within the gates—was reinforcing
tikanga drawn from local and wider Māori ways of
knowing.
Home-based ECE
service
What do children ‘see’ in
nature-based education
beyond the gate?
Children’s photographs showed their unique ways of
seeing. Stimulated recall interviews highlighted how
adults assume they know what children are thinking
and seeing. This insight caused a major shift in
planning and assessment practices.
6
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1. These teachers came to understand and appreciate more about pedagogy informed by Te
Whāriki, the early childhood education bicultural curriculum (Ministry of Education, 1996),
and its relationship to nature education and sustainability, through this action research. They
revisioned Te Whāriki rather than seeing that a paradigm shift was needed to ‘return to
nature’ in their pedagogy. These findings suggest that it is timely, two decades after the
draft curriculum was published, to revisit the curriculum document. Moving beyond the
principles, strands and learning outcomes of the curriculum, teaching could benefit from a
renewed focus on the adult responsibilities and what learning should look like for different
groups; infants, toddlers and young children, as specified in Te Whāriki.
2. Early childhood education in Aotearoa New Zealand continues to draw on European
traditions from Froebel, Montessori, Steiner, Reggio Emilia and more recently Forest
School. While this latter phenomenon is gaining popularity here, teachers need to be
cognisant that Knight, a leading English-speaking authority on Forest School relates the
four principles of Te Whāriki to the aspirations of Forest School. It is also significant that
many of the key elements that define Forest School are evident in nature-based provision in
Aotearoa New Zealand today and were so before study tours and literature became available.
For example, this research was mostly conducted where the nature-based education
occurred in settings ‘beyond the gate’; the programme was as safe as reasonably possible in
order to facilitate risk-taking; it happened over time (weekly, fortnightly or several times a
term); bad weather was not a deterrent; trust was central; learning was play-based and as far
as possible child-initiated and child-led. The exceptions to key elements as discussed by
Knight (2009) were the absence of Forest School trained staff and seldom did we encounter
a ten-week programme.
3. The luxuries of unhurried time, ‘wild’ open spaces, and fewer distractions including noise,
supported teachers’ mindfulness throughout this research project. Nature environments
enabled them to slow down, ‘be present’, recognise more, and teach intentionally. These
kinds of programmes do not exist for all children in Aotearoa New Zealand. Without the
personal and professional ethical, financial and philosophical commitments on the part of all
involved in this project, it is unlikely that these nature-based experiences would exist. A
national commitment is needed for such programmes to be available in all ECE sites. Based
on the experience on this study, such commitment should take the form of professional
development programmes, targeted funding, mentoring, and increased recognition of the
additional support that is necessary.
4. Child-initiated, child-led play based learning outdoors involves challenge and risk. In order
to recognise both their competence and their vulnerability outdoors, it is important to get to
know each child. Nature-based education is complex and must be approached with care,
ongoing dialogue and constant decision-making. Knowledge about each child, and
cognisance of the governing regulations, careful planning and preparation, and teamwork
are all essential to children’s wellbeing beyond the ECE setting gate. Our findings
foreground the importance of professional relationships that involve high levels of trust:
trusting the environment; adults trusting each other (dialogue and constant decision-making);
communication; and knowledge of the environment.
5. Natural environments contain huge potential for learning, including multiple possibilities
and opportunities for exploration and play. Adults knowledge of the environment is
important alongside recognising that the natural environment is the context for learning and
not just the focus of learning. Knowing about the local land features from traditional Māori
and non-Māori perspectives supports teachers to become more ‘place responsive’ in their
teaching outdoors and ‘beyond the gate’(Wattchow & Brown, 2011). Sustainability
principles are allied with tikanga Māori values of accountability for the living earth.
Children can learn these values in many ways including through pūrākau (traditional stories)
that emphasise kaitiakitanga and manaakitanga—guardianship of, and care for Papatūānuku
and her children. Relationships with the local environment are deepened when families’
funds of knowledge and those of local iwi are sought and incorporated.
7
6. This project complements the research project Titiro Whakamuri, Hoki Whakamua. We are
the future, the present and the past: Caring for self, others and the environment in early
years’ teaching and learning (Ritchie, Duhn, Rau, & Craw, 2010) and adds to our unique
Aotearoa New Zealand contribution to education in the outdoors, and its relationship to
sustainable practice. Our findings are consistent with Te Whāriki, (Ministry of Education,
1996) and ECEfS—early childhood education for sustainability (Davis, 2010). Rather than
copying what happens abroad, we need to continue to evolve distinct ways of doing things
that highlight the unique social and cultural context this country provides alongside our bi-
cultural curriculum and sector diversity.
,F5.$;=F5@5.G@?>5DE.789:89;<H<IAA=@6.:8=;@=A.
Figure 1: Nature-based learning in Aotearoa New Zealand
Figure 1: Nature-based learning in Aotearoa New Zealand summarises our findings by
highlighting the relationships and interconnections between nature and teachers, children and
their families, as well as the sophisticated knowledge base that is required. Teachers in this
country draw from a range of documents and knowledge in their pedagogy and recognise the
rich potential of the environment. Throughout the research project, children’s right to play and
to have regular access to nature and culture were celebrated and affirmed.
.
Environmental
knowledge
Curriculum
knowledge!
Developmental
knowledge
Cultural
knowledge
Professional
knowledge
Child
Teacher!
Known!
Pedagogies
Unknown
Infrastructure
& Support
Affordances
Constraints
UNCROC
Te Wh!riki
ECEfS and
Enviroschools
Treaty of Waitangi
Nature
Regulatory
knowledge
Trust &
Commitment
Family
8
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Acknowledgements ....................................................................................................................... 3!
Executive summary ....................................................................................................................... 4!
Key findings .............................................................................................................................. 4!
Major implications .................................................................................................................... 6!
The Ngahere Project findings—summary diagram ................................................................... 7!
Table of contents ........................................................................................................................... 8!
Table of tables ............................................................................................................................. 10!
Table of figures ........................................................................................................................... 10!
Chapter 1:!Introduction ............................................................................................................ 11!
i!The Ngahere Project—background to the research ........................................................... 11!
ii!The shape/structure of the report ...................................................................................... 12!
Chapter 2:!The study in context ............................................................................................... 13!
2.1 !Introducing the field ...................................................................................................... 13!
2.2! Experiential learning and teaching ................................................................................ 13!
2.2.1! Place responsive education .................................................................................... 15!
2.2.2!The influence of Forest School ............................................................................... 16!
2.3 !Indigenous perspectives ................................................................................................ 17!
2.4!Early childhood education for sustainability (ECEfS) ................................................... 18!
2.5! The Aotearoa New Zealand ECE context of this study ................................................ 20!
2.5.1 Maungaarangi Kindergarten and Family Centre ........................................................ 21!
2.5.2!Campus Creche Preschool ...................................................................................... 21!
2.5.3 !Pukemokemoke Bush Reserve ............................................................................... 21!
2.5.4 !Brann’s Farm ......................................................................................................... 22!
2.5.6 !Mauao .................................................................................................................... 22!
2.5.7 !Summerhill Recreational Farm .............................................................................. 23!
2.5.8 !The University of Waikato Hamilton campus ....................................................... 23!
2.6! Glossary ........................................................................................................................ 24!
Chapter 3:!Methodology .......................................................................................................... 26!
Participants .............................................................................................................................. 26!
The participating early childhood education centres ............................................................... 26!
Action research, research questions and phases ...................................................................... 27!
Phase One—Reconnaissance .............................................................................................. 28!
Phase Two—Intervention .................................................................................................... 28!
Phase Three—Evaluation .................................................................................................... 29!
Theoretical perspectives .......................................................................................................... 30!
9
Data analysis ............................................................................................................................ 31!
Chapter 4:!Nature-based learning in Aotearoa New Zealand .................................................. 32!
4.0 !Key ideas underpinning nature-based provision ........................................................... 32!
4.1 Unique to Aotearoa New Zealand ................................................................................. 33!
4.1.1 Connections with land ................................................................................................ 34!
4.2 Provision in practice .......................................................................................................... 35!
4.2.1 Tikanga Māori ............................................................................................................ 36!
4.2.2 Children’s rights ......................................................................................................... 39!
4.2.3 Claiming time and space ............................................................................................ 39!
4.2.4 Place-responsiveness .................................................................................................. 40!
4.3 Saving children and the planet .......................................................................................... 43!
4.4 Differing responses from children, families and teachers ................................................. 44!
4.5 What about sustainability? ................................................................................................ 45!
4.6 Summary ........................................................................................................................... 47!
Chapter 5:!Pedagogical issues and provocations in nature ...................................................... 49!
5.0 Pedagogy in the outdoors .................................................................................................. 49!
5.1 A paradigm shift? .............................................................................................................. 50!
5.2 The role of the teacher ....................................................................................................... 51!
5.3 Practices affirmed .............................................................................................................. 52!
5.4 Shifts in practice ................................................................................................................ 53!
5.4.1 Noticing and recognising learning ............................................................................. 54!
5.4.2 A pedagogy of opportunity versus risk ...................................................................... 56!
5.4.3 Children as curriculum leaders ................................................................................... 58!
5.5 Nature as mediator ............................................................................................................. 60!
5.6 Recognising more .............................................................................................................. 62!
Summary ................................................................................................................................. 66!
Chapter 6:!Conclusion .............................................................................................................. 68!
6.1 Synthesis of findings ......................................................................................................... 68!
6.2 Future directions for research, policy and practice ........................................................... 70!
References ................................................................................................................................... 72!
.
10
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Table 1:!Profile of the early childhood education settings ....................................................... 27!
Table 2:!The Ngahere Project Mosaic ..................................................................................... 29!
.
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Figure 1:!Nature-based learning in Aotearoa New Zealand ...................................................... 7!
Figure 2:!Action Research Cycle ............................................................................................. 28!
Figure 3:!Sustainable ECE provision: Interrelated documents, principles and concepts ......... 48!
Figure 4:!A continuum of pedagogical roles in nature-based ECE .......................................... 52!
Figure 5:!Nature-based learning in Aotearoa New Zealand .................................................... 70!
. .
11
CHAPTER(1: INTRODUCTION(
Nature-based learning ideals have existed for several thousand years. The significance of
experiences in nature for young children’s learning and development has been expounded by
philosophers and educationalists dating back to Rousseau (2003 [1762]). In many contemporary
early childhood education (hereafter referred to as ECE) settings, such experiences are highly
valued. Nowadays, Froebel’s notion of kindergarten as ‘a children’s garden’ is likely to be
complemented by ideas from Steiner, Montessori, Malaguzzi, and more recently by
Scandinavian notions of Forest School (Knight, 2009; Robertson, 2008). In our focus group
discussions, participants referred to this phenomenon as ‘Forest Kindergarten’ in
acknowledgement of the Forest School influence on ECE in this country. The bush or ‘Ngahere’,
as it is known in Te Reo Māori or Māori language, is increasingly being seen by Aotearoa New
Zealand teachers as a significant learning environment for young children.
This action research project, called The Ngahere Project, explored teaching and learning
possibilities in nature-based settings ‘beyond the ECE setting gate’. The pedagogical issues and
provocations teachers encountered during their regular engagements with nature are detailed in
this report. It is our hope that these provocations will enhance current debates about the location
of nature-based learning within ECE pedagogies. As we engage ECE and other audiences,
nationally and internationally, in dialogue about the implications for teaching and learning in
the outdoors, we seek to expand on the specific learning potential in wider contexts, from local
perspectives. In doing so, we claim that Aotearoa New Zealand offers unique opportunities for
strategic engagement with the natural environment and associated sustainability issues that are
only beginning to be realised in the literature, in our view.
As international curriculum leaders, we also see that we have much to contribute to the
worldwide community in relation to pedagogical implications for education in the outdoors.
This contribution is in keeping with Aotearoa New Zealand’s emphasis on diversity and
bicultural practice, two cornerstones of Te Whāriki, He Whāriki Matauranga mo nga Mokopuna
o Aotearoa (Ministry of Education, 1996), the early childhood education (and first bicultural)
curriculum document. Both are evident within nature-based education and in children’s “ability
to enquire research, explore, generate and modify their own working theories about the natural,
social, physical and material worlds, working theories about the living world and knowledge of
how to care for it” (p. 90).
8. The$Ngahere$Project—L=DM;@?I9:.E?.EF5.@5<5=@DF..
The Ngahere Project developed out of provocations from ECE teachers who had undertaken
Forest Kindergarten study tours to Europe and the United Kingdom in 2009. The ideas they
brought back to their settings struck a chord with their colleagues, their organisations and local
communities. Combined with existing projects related to education for sustainability (EfS) and
Enviroschools already taking place in their ECE settings, an agenda developed to work with
children, families/whānau and communities to understand and experience nature settings
beyond the gate.
Teachers approached the researchers at the University of Waikato to invite their collaboration
on an investigation of practice, based on existing relationships and relevant strategic goals. In
doing so, they sought academic partnership and complementarities of expertise (Kemmis &
McTaggart, 2005) in order to achieve their goals. Both organisations have explicitly committed
to education for sustainability (EfS) values and beliefs in their strategic plans and are committed
to the ongoing implementation of Te Whāriki and high quality teacher-led ECE.
Hence, The Ngahere Project was conceived. Ngahere, the Māori word for bush, was
specifically chosen for this project to differentiate what happens in these settings, in Aotearoa
New Zealand, from the Forest School movement gaining momentum in Europe and the United
Kingdom (Knight, 2009). Whilst parallels can and will be drawn, the unique, diverse cultural,
12
historical and social contexts of ECE settings in this country are significantly distinct to warrant
regular nature-based education in bush settings being seen as a separate phenomenon.
Teachers, children, families/whānau and members of the communities in these settings
(hereafter referred to as ‘research sites’) are committed to the collaborative action research
project. Three sessional or extended day kindergartens, two full day education and care centres
and a home-based education setting were involved. Together, we sought to explore regular
nature-based excursions, as teachers worked within their communities to examine the
pedagogical and practical implications of teaching in the outdoors.
From the outset, therefore, teachers shared a commitment to providing research based on
Davis’s (2009) assertion that there is a “research hole” in the area of ECEfS, as well as seeking
to explore the practice of outdoor experiential learning beyond the gate, within the ECE sector.
This research gap seemed to be around the pedagogy of teachers’ practice in sustainability
rather than the busy ‘practice’ itself, for example, gardening, worm farms, composting, and
water conservation and so on. While sustainable practices were valued, we were keen to unearth
teaching and learning strategies, beliefs and processes that sat underneath these practices. It
seemed that there was a risk of teachers doing things because the curriculum/programme
advocated it rather than what we came to describe as ‘dialogic and responsive teaching’. Hence,
the importance of knowing what we (as teachers and learners) are doing, and the reasons why,
became the starting point for our enquiry. This led to “problematising [our] pedagogy” in a
number of settings (Edwards & Nuttall, 2005).
88.,F5.<F=B5N<E@IDEI@5.?7.EF5.@5B?@E.
This report discusses the main findings from our action research The Ngahere Project. It
contains six chapters. Chapter 2 outlines the context to the study. Key literature in a number of
related areas is reviewed including: experiential learning; play and nature; place-based
education; Forest School; indigenous perspectives; education for sustainability (EfS) including
Enviroschools; and the role of the adult. Next we look at the nature-based learning contexts
relevant to The Ngahere Project. The six kindergarten and education and care settings, their
immediate neighbourhoods, such as the farm next door or stream adjacent to their setting, and
the places teachers, children and families/whānau travelled to, on a regular basis, will be
identified and briefly discussed.
Chapter 3 introduces the research methodology, including “the principles and values,
philosophies and ideologies that underpin the research” (Roberts-Holmes, 2011, p. 22). This
chapter also provides details about: the research participants; profiles of the participating early
childhood education settings; specific phases of the action research cycle we used; the two
overarching research questions, and the six specific research questions and methods used to
generate data; theoretical perspectives; and data analysis.
Two findings chapters follow—the first (Chapter 4) relates specifically to the provision of
nature-based education in answer to the overarching question: What might nature-based
learning look like in diverse Aotearoa New Zealand ECE services that are committed to
sustainability? The second findings chapter (Chapter 5) responds to the second overarching
research question: What are some of the pedagogical issues and provocations teachers face in
this domain? Both chapters draw heavily on data generated from an initial and final focus group
that were audio-recorded as part of the project and data that was generated by participants
during the research itself.
Finally, in Chapter 6 we synthesise the research findings to consider what we have learnt
through the research process. We make suggestions about possible directions for policy and
practice. Several areas are identified where we see further research being beneficial to the sector.
We also note some limitations of the study and areas for development. References, make up the
remaining section. Throughout the report, we offer some insights as a means of theorising
nature-based learning and its relationship to sustainability through an examination of provision
and pedagogies ‘beyond the gate’.
13
CHAPTER(2: THE(STUDY(IN(CONTEXT(
In this chapter we set the scene for The Ngahere Project by introducing the conceptual and
physical context for our investigations. We begin by examining the literature that informed and
shaped the teachers’ practice in outdoor education, and conclude by introducing the sites for
their investigations. Taken together, they offer insights into the approaches taken by teachers
and their pedagogical imperatives.
OPQ.. 19E@?:ID89;.EF5.785C:.
Although there is a now a vast body of literature on the broader topic of sustainability, and its
location in nature-based education programmes, much less is known about the associated
pedagogies or their orientations. As already mentioned (see Chapter 1: i) Davis (2009) describes
the absence of research in the field of ECE as a “hole” (p. 227) arguing that it is an aspect that
has received little attention until recently. There are several reasons cited for this phenomenon,
not least the perceived newness of ECE and ‘Education for Sustainability’ under the broader
framework of ECEfS (Davis, Engdahl, Otieno, Pramling-Samuelsson, Siraj-Blatchford, &
Vallabh, 2009). ECEfS is an approach to learning that promotes ecological awareness through
engagement with nature (Duhn, Bachmann, & Harris, 2010).
Yet outdoor education is not merely posed as a political initiative promoting sustainable
ecologies in the ECE literature. Claims are also made (see for example Chawla, 2006; Cornell,
1998; Littledyke, Taylor, & Eames, 2009; Ward Thompson, Aspinall, & Montarzino, 2008;
Wells & Lekies, 2006) that educational experiences have positive benefits for children and their
life-long learning—enhancing a sense of rhythm, social skills, and the restorative potential such
engagement can provide in relation to health, well-being, and ‘nature deficit disorder’ (Louv,
2010). Similar claims are also made, and perhaps even reconciled within the ECEfS agenda,
from an indigenous perspective. Here an anthropomorphic view of nature as nurturer and
sustainer of life is posed (Ritchie, 2011; See also eco-feminist principles) with an associated
ethic of care (Noddings, 2005). Taken together, these concepts set the scene for an Aotearoa
New Zealand approach to education that draws on experiential learning as a basis of bi-cultural
nature-based education.
While a detailed examination of the discourses that inform these contemporary approaches to
sustainable practice in education is beyond the scope of this report (for further reading see, for
example, Tulloch, 2012; White, Kelly, & Zusammenarbeit mit Lehrerinnen und Lehrern des
Ngahere Projekts, 2011), it is important to recognise that they exist within texts, practices and
the languages that are used to convey them (Dahlbeck, 2012). Notwithstanding this recognition,
the chapter that follows explores the range of literature, and associated discourses and practices,
that dominated the ECE landscape at the time of writing. These framed the location of nature-
based ECE education within the broader notion of sustainable practice in The Ngahere Project.
OPO. .(RB5@859E8=C.C5=@989;.=9:.E5=DF89;.
Experiential learning as a pedagogical route to nature-based ECE education has its origins in the
educational theories of John Dewey (although ideas originated before his time, for example, in
the writings of Rousseau, Pestalozzi, and Froebel). Dewey (1920) suggested that it was possible
“to make claims for experience as a guide in science and moral life” (p. 78) and therefore paved
the way for learning based on real life experience. In The school and society, Dewey (1915)
specifically advocated an experiential approach to student learning in the local environment,
suggesting that experience is influenced by its geographic, artistic, literary, scientific and
historical locations (Woodhouse & Knapp, 2000).
14
Dewey’s ideas still hold currency today and have being developed further by ideas from Steiner,
Montessori, Malaguzzi, and more recently by Scandinavian notions of ‘Forest Kindergarten’
(Knight, 2009). These ideas combined with work by environmentalists Thoreau, Carson and
Leopold (Cafaro, 2001) lay the foundations for education in, about, and for the environment
(Davis, 2010; Davis, Elliott, & Early Childhood Australia, 2003). Ideas from each of these three
disciplines can be seen in Laevers’ (2000) ‘Experiential Education’ ECE approach whereby
“children are helped to develop an attitude of linkedness with: (1) themselves; (2) the other(s);
(3) the material world; (4) society; and (5) the ultimate unity of the entire eco-system” (p. 23).
Ideas about real life learning and deep-level learning are being used now to investigate how
children develop strong dispositions and competencies towards learning and a positive learner
identity, fundamental for life in the 21st century and lifelong learning (Carr & Claxton, 2002;
Claxton, 2002; Claxton & Carr, 2004; Laevers, 2000). Several educationalists, for example
Waite (2011), Maynard & Waters (2007) and Bailie (2010), advocate for experiential learning
in the outdoors based on the principle that children are curious and playful and need to explore
their wider world. They also possess natural instincts which nurture creativity when unleashed.
This relationship between learner and the wider world is described by Brownlee (2007) as a
‘love affair’ that is nourished with experience:
Young children need countless opportunities to explore Mother Earth and Her
treasures, growing their senses of belonging as a citizen of this amazing planet.
Our children are dependent on us for access to experiences. It is our job to see
that they have rich experiences, and to provide more ‘helpings’ of experiences
they have enjoyed. Conservationists are not born from one bush walk. A love
affair with the bush, like any deep love, takes time to grow and develop”. (p. 12)
[Her capitals and speech marks]
In a similar vein Franke (2011) conveys the relationship as an appreciation, or communion with-.
He cites poets who share romantic and philosophical ideals, personifying nature through
engagement; giving nature a will and a personality of its own. This is akin to Water’s
anthropomorphic trees’ talking (2011) and to the personalities of nature found in pūrākau, or
traditional Māori stories such as ‘the story of creation and the separation of Ranginui, the sky
father and Papatūānuku, the earth mother by their children’. This is the genesis of nature
according to Māori, pre Christianity.
An appreciation of the ‘living’ qualities of nature through the senses rather than exclusively
through cognitive means has been described as a dialogic process (Hardy, 2006). While nature
can be experienced through sight, sound and touch, it is simultaneously unknowable and
uncertain within this view. Seen in this way, human engagement with nature evokes a response
and is characterised by surprise. According to Hardy, nature can be seen to have many voices of
its own, including silence or the dawn or dusk chorus. Teaching and learning in dialogue with
nature therefore requires “active listening, humility and playfulness” (p. 274). The natural world
demands no answers but instead invites openness towards what can be gained from it. The
development of children’s ‘naturalistic’ intelligence, as characterised by a fascination with and
affinity to the natural world and animals (Gardner, 1998) can be encouraged through the
provision of playful learning experiences that connect children to the environment as a natural
world through which they will gain insight and perspective.
Children’s right to play and to have regular access to the culture, recreation and the arts are also
enshrined in Article 31 of the United Nations Convention on the Rights of the Child (United
Nations, 1989). Traditionally, ‘play’ and ‘nature’ have been fundamental tenets of early
childhood education. These “two ecological contexts help sustain healthy human beings”
according to Waters (2011) who argues that both of these contexts are being “eroded from many
children’s lived experiences” (p. 251). Alderson (2008) also suggests that we have become
overprotective of children. This assertion and its underlying tensions is addressed in recent ECE
literature where the issue of safety and its interrelationship with risk and challenge appears often.
For example, Stephenson (2003) talks about “the ‘darker’ side of risk—seeing the uncertainty,
the possibility of failure, of injury” (p.42). (See also: Elliott, 2010; Huggins & Wickett, 2011;
Waite, 2011; Waite, Davis, & Brown, 2006.) Whereas, Cooke (2010) asserts that “healthy child
development relies on being able to take risks, face challenge and overcome diversity” (p. 250).
15
Children are also being denied the freedom to be expressive, creative and active in the belief
that we are looking after their best interests according to Alderson (2008). Meanwhile, Peck
(cited in Cornhill & Grey, 2010) reinforces connections between play, the arts and the garden.
This author suggests:
Play is essential to the life of the kindergarten child. The garden is not only the
richest setting for play, but it holds in secret all of the life’s lessons to be
discovered by the child. It is truly the source of wisdom and the basis of all art.
(p. 79)
A number of writers have linked an awareness of nature with respect and care for the
environment. According to Wattchow and Brown (2011) an appreciation of nature’s presence in
one’s life leads to environmental awareness. Plotkin (2008) argues that this awareness and
subsequent care are attainable through play for the young child. Meanwhile, Hardy (2006)
posits that nature is the ‘other’ and when it is viewed as a subject in its own right (rather than an
object for human manipulation) nature demands respect. Such a view is deeply ethical and
promotes a response. Thus learning is not gained merely by visiting nature spaces, but rather
through “answerability” as a result of this dialogic encounter (Hardy, 2006, p. 275).
Answerability implies that sustainable practice is a natural response within a loving relationship
with other (White, Kelly et al., 2011). Since play is now viewed as a significant medium for
learning (Plotkin, 2008)—especially for very young children—the relationship between play
and nature is frequently drawn. When aligned with notions of sustainability, place-based
education plays a prominent and active role in this education process (Wattchow & Brown,
2011).
"#"#$! !%&'()!*)+,-.+/0)!)12('3/-.!
In ‘A pedagogy of place’ Wattchow & Brown (2011) ask:
Why place? Because place refers to a participatory and experiential
phenomenon. Our experience of place is always a combination of a specific
physical location, our embodied encounter and cultural ideas that influence the
interpretations that we make of the experience. This provides rich potential for
outdoor [we could say ECE] educators who are already well versed in
experiential pedagogies. (p. ix)
Place-based, place-responsive, place-conscious or ecological education is a distinctive type of
experiential learning. Notions of affective learning are evident in this tradition which draws
heavily on responsiveness to place as a source of identity, security and “a way of understanding
how humans live, experience and relate to particular locations on the earth’s surface”
(Wattchow & Brown, 2011, p. 51). Citing Lines (2001, p. 65) the authors suggest that place is
experienced through embodiment, that is the feel or sense of an experience “through what I
could sit on, touch, taste, see, breathe, smell and move within” (p. 72). Here the notion of
biophilia is invoked as a means of supporting learners to develop “the innate tendency to focus
on life and lifelike processes” (Wilson, 1984, p. 1). As such, pedagogical imperatives are
located in existential realms of engagement commonly referred to as place responsive pedagogy
(Everett, Noone, Brooks, & Littledyke, 2009). They refer to sustainable living as a disposition
that can be communicated or understood through holistic engagement in artistic or creative
projects where we engage with hearts as well as hands and minds.
Orr (2005) argues that we should let “the place itself become an agent in the curriculum” (p. 97).
This view clearly connects to the significant role of place or places in Te Whāriki. The
curriculum document emphasises “the critical role of socially and culturally mediated learning
and of reciprocal and responsive relationships for children with people, places, and things”
(Ministry of Education, 1996, p. 9). Learning within ECE settings and beyond the gate within
this approach signals implicit connections with children’s natural, social and cultural worlds
through these relationships. Engagement with places, therefore, has the potential to build
learning power and learner identity through empowerment and holistic development that is
central to Aotearoa New Zealand ECE curriculum. This view is also shared by ECE
16
programmes elsewhere, including the Forest School movement that had significant influence on
the current study.
"#"#"!45)!/.6&2).()!-6!7-*)+3!8(5--&!
Several authors (Comisiwn Coedwigaeth Cymru/Forestry Commission Wales, 2007, 2009;
Knight, 2009) from the United Kingdom, trace the origin of Forest School in their part of the
world to a visit to Denmark, in 1994, by the early years department at Bridgewater College.
They also note that this movement draws inspiration from a number of interrelated sources,
citing Pestalozzi, Frobel, Steiner, Montessori and Reggio Emilia along with the Outdoor
Adventure Education movement as influential to Forest School programmes in the United
Kingdom. Knight (2009) notes that the New Zealand curriculum Te Whāriki and Claxton’s
‘Building Learning Power’ have developed in parallel with Forest School. She relates the four
principles of Te Whāriki to the aspirations of Forest Schools, arguing that “Forest School is one
way, Te Whāriki another” (Knight, 2009, p. 65).
The physical, cultural and geographical contexts for Forest School are different to standard
educational programmes according to Waite, Davis, and Brown (2006). They stress that a key
concern of the movement has been to distinguish Forest School from other outdoor activities
with children. In their small study they found distinguishing factors to include emphasis on
repetition, sustained period of time, spontaneity and choice. A range of skills alongside
behavioural, social and emotional development were identified in terms of learning outcomes.
They point out that
Although the natural environment was essential in Forest School, it was not the
focus of learning but the context for learning. This echoes findings by Dillion et
al., (2005) that use of the outdoor context is heuristic, so that the purpose and
process within the context was more important than the context per se. (Waite,
Davis, & Brown, 2006, p. 11)
Regardless of whether the outdoor context is in woodlands, on-site or within walking distance
or a short bus ride away from the education setting or at a woodland education centre, Knight’s
(2009) definition of a Forest School includes the following principles: i) not the usual setting; ii)
as safe as is reasonably possible to facilitate risk taking; iii) happens over time (minimum of a
half day a week over ten weeks); iv) no such thing as bad weather, only bad clothing; v) trust is
central; vi) learning is play-based and, as far as possible; vii) child-initiated and child-led (pp.
15–17). These principles differ from the Norwegian Forest School (Comisiwn Coedwigaeth
Cymru/Forestry Commission, 2009) where emphasis is placed on the development of social,
physical and cognitive skills as key outcomes for engagement in the outdoors. A number of
feasibility studies and evaluations of Forest School have also been carried out, mainly in the
United Kingdom, where the governments, forestry commissions and educationalists are looking
to extend provision (see for example Borradaile, 2006; Knight, n.d.a; O’Brien & Murray, 2005,
2007; Robertson, Martin, Borradaile, & Alker, 2009).
Knight (n.d.a) notes that there is a cultural concept missing from British, Welsh and Scottish
Forest School. It has a different identity to its origins in Scandinavia where it is closely linked to
their philosophy of outdoor life or ‘friluftsliv’ described as ‘open air living’ (Henderson &
Vikanger, 2007 cited in Gambino, Davis & Rowntree, 2009). Other authors also make the point
that the tradition of all-weather outdoor learning for young children is closely connected to
Nordic identity which like other cultures including Aotearoa New Zealand has its own
‘culturally specific philosophical and ontological bases’ (Einarsdóttir & Wagner, 2006; Taylor
& Guigni, 2011). Indeed, Henderson & Vikanger (2007) caution against transplanting traditions
and their associated cultural and social norms and practices to other countries and continents
(cited in Gambino, Davis, & Rowntree, 2009). Nevertheless, Knight (n.d.b) suggests we ought
to consider whether Forest School can act as a spur to better quality outdoor experiences? These
are important points in light of learning in the outdoors in this country.
17
OPS..19:8;59?I<.B5@<B5DE8T5<.
Throughout the world, indigenous approaches to nature, conservation and sustainability are rife
with moral and ethical principles of accountability (Davis, 1993). Respect for nature is
synonymous with care and nurture in this domain. Suzuki (2010) suggests that the lack of care
in Western society, evident in practices such as harvesting of land for personal gain, marks the
origin of the current ecological crisis. In much of the nature-based ECE literature that exists in
Aotearoa New Zealand today, beliefs such as these are evident in consistent references to
Noddings’ (2005; 2007) ‘ethic of care” (see for example, Ellwood, 2010; Ritchie, 2010) or
within the notion of spirituality (Ryder, 2007, see also Bone, 2008; Bone, Cullen, & Loveridge,
2007).
Te Whāriki supports indigenous Māori cultural practices and beliefs about the earth. Among
these is “the need to live as closely as possible with nature, to learn about it, to understand it”
(Pere, 1991, p. 9). For Māori, like many indigenous cultures, nature is seen as a critical source
of energy, something that can stimulate imagination and develop creativity. In Aotearoa New
Zealand, when indigenous people introduce themselves in Te Reo Māori (mihimihi) they will
usually identify specific geographical features associated with their tribal area including their
maunga (mountain), awa (river) and moana (sea). They may also identify their waka (ancestral
canoe), hapū (sub tribe), iwi (tribe), marae and the ancestor they were named after as a source of
genealogical, spiritual and geographical connection, identity and pride.
Traditional and contemporary indigenous views of sustainability (see, for example Ritchie,
Duhn, Rau, & Craw, 2010; also Davis, 1993) are underpinned by a relationship with the land
and the custodial nature of engagement that is necessary for its long-term survival. Māori views
of nature are enshrined in the metaphor of whenua, which can be interpreted as both land and
placenta. As Pere (1991) explains, “whenua offers one the same feeling of warmth, security,
nourishment and sustenance, a feeling of belonging” (p. 22). Thus the natural environment
sustains the individual—Mauri alludes to the life force in every living thing and gives
sustenance.
In Te Ao Māori or a Māori world-view, the holistic and cyclic Māori world-view, Papatūānuku
(apa) is the personified earth mother, Ranginui (Rangi) is the sky father and every person is
linked to every living thing and to the gods (Ka’ai & Higgins, 2004). Every living thing,
including inanimate objects like trees and rivers, is believed to have a spirit or mauri, a life force.
Narratives too are highly significant, often telling the stories of heroic ancestors. They are
commonly steeped in personal interpretations of actual events to make sense of phenomenon in
the environment (Pere, 1998). Māori “interpret the landscape differently from Pākehā or white
people and, bestow importance on places and geographical features in a different way”
according to Ka’ai & Higgins (2004, p. 13).
Indigenous approaches to learning also connect heart, hand and head and are deeply concerned
with place. Mika (2011) suggests that the Māori term whakapapa means action, or to act for
(whaka), towards the living earth (papa) through encounter. As Ritchie (2010) further explains,
this world-view is embedded within an ethic of care that is underpinned by notions of aroha,
whānaungatanga and wairuatanga simply explained as love, kinship and spiritual
connectedness (p. 11). Taken together, these concepts provoke an action of care and concern
that is shared by all within the community. Such priorities are noted in the following abstract
from a recent Teaching and Learning Research Initiative project (Ritchie, et al., 2010), outlining
a raft of subsequent publications about this ECE research which
focused on global issues of ecological sustainability in a variety of local early childhood
education contexts, drawing from both kaupapa Māori and Western perspectives.
Ecological sustainability as a teaching and learning issue (Gruenewald, 2003) was, within
this project, philosophically grounded in an ethic of care (Martin, 2007; Noddings, 2005)
and an ethics of place (Smith, 2001, with a particular focus on respect for Papatūānuku,
the Earth Mother (Marsden, 2003). Retrieved from http://www.tlri.org.nz/titiro-
whakamuri-hoki-whakamua-we-are-future-present-and-past-caring-self-others-and-
environment-ear/
18
This Māori belief system is aligned with indigenous perspectives from across the world. For
example, Davis (1993) explains the sacred meanings embedded in social relations with nature:
This close attachment to the land and the environment is the defining
characteristic of indigenous peoples: it is what links together, in a philosophical
and cosmological sense, numerous geographically disparate and culturally
diverse peoples throughout the world. (p. x)
An indigenous view of the land and the environment is also evident in the statement by Aldo
Leopold (1949/1987), a pioneering environmentalist. Leopold argued that “We abuse land
because we regard it as a commodity belonging to us. When we see land as a community to
which we belong we may begin to use it with love and respect” (p. viii). This view of the land
as a community rather than a commodity resonates with indigenous views. Adopting a Māori
approach to sustainability, then, the role of the teacher (and everyone else too) in sustaining the
world is as kaitiaki, steward or guardian (O’Connor, 2011; O’Malley, 2008; Ritchie, 2010). This
guardian of the land—as community—has an appreciation of the historical significance of the
land through understanding and enacting the stories that tell of its genesis (Wattchow & Brown,
2011).
Māori perspectives are integral to Enviroschools/Kura Taiao, an Aotearoa New Zealand
phenomenon based on the principle of sustainability and partnership; a way of being and acting
that nurtures people and nature, now and in the future (Eames, Barker, Wilson-Hill, Law, &
Mardon, 2010). Enviroschools starts from an interrelated philosophical and pedagogical basis
and involves indigenous perspectives, sustainability, social justice, democracy and active
citizenship. Key values, concepts including a ‘sense of place’, and associated learning processes
are taught in an attempt to create healthy and viable schools, communities and ecosystems.
These teachings honour the status of the indigenous people of the land. There is recognition that
Māori perspectives and knowledge of the environment offer unique insights built up over time
(see, for example, www.enviroschools.org.nz).
OPU.(=@C6.DF8C:F??:.5:ID=E8?9.7?@.<I<E=89=L8C8E6.V("(7-W.
The concept of sustainability is arguably one of the most serious issues of our time. It
encompasses natural, social, economic, cultural and political dimensions. The Brundtland
Commission report defines sustainable development as “development that meets the needs of
the present without compromising the ability of future generations to meet their own needs”
(World Commission on Environment and Development, 1987, p. 43). The slogan ‘Enough for
all, forever’ is also commonly used (Queensland Government Department of Education,
Training and Employment (DETE), 2008). Sustainability is the driving force behind
Enviroschools (Eames, et al., 2010) and other education for sustainability (EfS) programmes
and experiences happening in education settings (Davis, 2010). In early childhood education,
where we recognise the environment as the ‘third teacher’ (Malaguzzi, 1998) sustainability and
associated practices are becoming increasingly common. Kelly (in press) argues that the concept
of sustainability can be applied to anything from decisions about the arts budget, the future of
excursions to the bush, planting the sand dunes to prevent further erosion, or to issues relating to
the national economy, such as child poverty, or the global environment.
Sustainability is a contested concept with a unique, yet not unproblematic, relationship with
nature-based education and experiential learning (Dahlbeck, 2012). The education for
sustainability field draws from a series of overlapping spheres of influence including education,
philosophy and environmental studies (Dryzek, 2005; See also Ärlemalm-Hagsér & Sandberg,
2011; Davis, Elliott, & Early Childhood Australia, 2003; Littledyke, Taylor, & Eames, 2009)
alongside influential, well documented, international initiatives. These notions are prominent in
current thinking around the future of the planet and the role that education should play:
The ecological crisis is in every way a crisis of education…. “All education is
environmental education … by what is included or excluded we teach the young
that they are part of or apart from the natural world…. The goal is not just
19
mastery of subject matter but making connections between head, hand and heart.
(Orr, 2005, pp. x–xi)
At least three disciplines—philosophy, education and environmentalism—are involved within
this discourse. Together they construct the basis for early childhood education for sustainability
(ECEfS). For example Rousseau (2003 [1762]) insisted that nature is the child’s ‘best teacher’;
Malaguzzi (1998) argued that the environment is ‘third teacher’ after adults and peers and
Froebel saw educators as ‘gardeners’. In this locale education is viewed as the cultivation of
values, calling on traditions that stretch from Plato through Rousseau to Dewey and Alfred
North Whitehead. Orr (2005) argues that
Education, as they knew, had to do with the timeless question of how we are to
live. And in our time the great question is how we will live in light of the
ecological fact that we are bound together in the community of life, one and
indivisible. (pp. x–xi)
Meanwhile, Rachel Carson, a founder of the modern environmental movement wrote The Sense
of Wonder in 1956, in which she records her observations of nature with her young grand-
nephew. She urges parents [and teachers in loco parentis—our emphasis] to introduce their
children to the wonders of nature all around them and to nurture a child's innate sense of wonder
and beauty. The following quote is reproduced in Davis, Elliott, and Early Childhood Australia
(2003):
If a child is to keep alive his inborn sense of wonder … he needs
companionship of at least one adult who can share it, rediscovering with him
the joy, excitement and mystery of the world we live in. (Carson, 1998, first
published 1956, p. 55)
The United Nations Decade of Education for Sustainable Development (2005–2014) challenges
teachers and teacher educators to reflect on the contribution education can make to a sustainable
future (UNESCO, 2005). They establish parameters around the question “How should we live?”
Pramling Samuelsson & Kaga, (2008; see also Davis, 2010) respond to this challenge by
suggesting that ECE is the key institutional site beyond the family where life-long learning
starts. They argue that basic values, attitudes, skills, behaviours and habits about nature
developed in the early years can last a lifetime. According to Fien (2003) an awareness of our
connections with, and in the world, and an attitude of caring are required. Again this suggestion
points to education and the role of the teacher or significant adult in a child’s life as being
influential.
Interest in ECEfS has increased in parallel with the dedicated United Nations Decade of
Education for Sustainable Development [2005–2014] (Siraj-Blatchford, Smith, & Pramling
Samuelsson, 2010). A range of specific ECE and early years texts dedicated to this topic have
been published recently, for example: Davis (2010), Knight (2009), Waite (2011), Littledyke,
Taylor & Eames (2009) and special issues of journals, for example Education 3-13 (2009, 37, 1).
The goal of the dedicated United Nations decade, and the education associated with it, is the
creation of a “better world for this generation and future generations of all living things on
planet Earth” (UNESCO, 2005). There is widespread agreement that environmental education
and education for sustainability should begin in early childhood; the starting point for lifelong
learning (Carson, 1956/1998; Chawla, 2006; Davis et al., 2009).
Davis, Elliott, and Early Childhood Australia (2003) and Davis (2010), leading writers in the
field of ECEfS, offer a structure for thinking about contemporary practice:
Education in the environment: seeks to foster wonder, empathy, and love for the
natural world; playing with water and sand, collecting leaves, creating habitats
for birds and insects and gardening are all practices for building responsive and
Earth-nurturing values and behaviours.
Education about the environment: encourages learning about how natural
systems work, their complexity and understanding how these and human
systems interact e.g., watering plants, the water cycle, precious clean water, not
to be wasted. Often includes a focus on science learning.
20
Education for the environment: Through education for the environment young
children develop a sense of responsibility and active participation in the
resolution of environmental problems ... children not only know about water
conservation issues but also have a commitment to enact conservation strategies
in their daily routines. (pp. 6–7; 30–31)
These initiatives generated a flurry of research, publications, and a teacher education
programme Teaching and learning for a sustainable future (UNESCO, 2005) that sets out the
parameters for engagement in current ECE practice. In order to make early childhood
environmental education mainstream Davis, Elliott, and Early Childhood Australia (2003)
suggest that:
Meaningful ways need to be found for children to observe, imitate, talk with
and walk alongside adults who encourage close observation of the world around
them and who actively demonstrate knowledge of, and respect and caring for,
the environment. This is an interactive social process where educators are active
participants and researchers with children in a dynamic world of exploration….
In all settings inhabited by children; … [there] needs to be a priority—a
recommitment to the idea of the ‘kindergarten’ (children’s garden).… An
appreciation of the principles of social justice and recognition of the value of
outdoor play provides a good start to embedding ideas about sustainability. (p.
10)
Enviroschools, an Aotearoa New Zealand response to the EfS phenomenon, is ten years old
(Eames, Roberts, Cooper, & Hipkins, 2010). The kaupapa or philosophy is based on five
guiding principles: Empowered students; learning for sustainability; Māori perspectives; respect
for diversity of people and cultures; and sustainable communities. An increasing number of
early years settings are joining with the Enviroschools Foundation to develop healthy and viable
schools/centres (ECEfS), communities and ecosystems. Enviroschools kaupapa is consistent
with the ethics of “caring, listening, participating and hopefulness”, described by Robinson &
Vaealiki (2010) as a key tenet of early childhood education for sustainability (p. 154).
OPX. .,F5.!?E5=@?=.$5Y.Z5=C=9:.("(.D?9E5RE.?7.EF8<.<EI:6.
Taking children into the outdoors, as a primary site for learning and discovery, is not a new
concept for Aotearoa New Zealand ECE (Greenfield, 2007; Ministry of Education, 1996, 2009).
However, the influence of international projects such as the Forest Kindergarten movement in
Scandinavia and United Kingdom (Borradaile, 2006; Knight, 2009; O’Brien & Murray, 2005),
coupled with a developing awareness of sustainability issues internationally (Davis, et al., 2009;
Pramling Samuelsson & Kaga, 2008) have led to an expanded interest in exploring the wider
community with young children. Yet, for teachers in this country there are additional sources of
provocation arising from this call to action.
In the current ECE climate, diverse issues such as values associated with outdoor learning,
legislative challenges in encountering safety and risk, and concerns regarding the types of ECE
environments now offered to very young children provided additional impetus. Coupled with
attention to indigenous perspectives that position nature as a living entity and a curriculum that
casts children as confident and capable learners who encounter ‘people, places and things’ as
learning potential (Littledyke & McCrea, 2009)—teachers were keen to pursue this agenda.
In the final section of this chapter we introduce the six research sites, the nature-based locations
and the teachers’ espoused priorities for nature-based education. We anticipate that a brief
description of each, at the time of the project, will set the scene for fuller engagement in the
research findings that follow. The places that were special to children and their teachers in The
Ngahere Project included their kindergarten and education and care settings, their immediate
neighbourhoods and the places they travelled to on a regular basis. Each was seen as holding
great potential for learning.
21
"#9#$!:'2.;''*'.;/!</.1)*;'*3).!'.1!7'=/&>!?).3*)!!
The Maungaarangi Kindergarten and Family Centre opened in May 2010 and is situated
adjacent to Welcome Bay School in Tauranga. Teachers have worked in close partnership with
children and families/whānau to design, create and care for a spacious environment (4200 m2 or
1.04 acres) that reflects the high value placed on the natural environment and natural science.
According to a recent review of the centre, it was reported that “Children have many
opportunities to increase their understanding of Te Ao Māori through meaningful experiences.
This includes manaakitanga—welcoming and caring for each other and visitors to the centre”
(ERO, 05.04.2012). The kindergarten whānau had only one trip during the data generation
period so most of their research occurred within the gate.
Photographs sourced from Learning Stories written by teachers at Maungaarangi Kindergarten
"#9#"! ?'=,2+!?*)(5)!%*)+(5--&!!
Campus Creche Preschool began their Ngahere Explorers programme in 2010. A group of
seven children and two teachers visit Pukemokemoke Bush Reserve every Thursday throughout
the year, in most weather. They generally leave in a hired university van around 9.30am and
return about 2.30pm. Children rotate out of the group after eight visits and are replaced by new
children from the centre roll. The group is often joined by additional adults including teachers,
parents, student teachers and occasionally researchers (Ngahere Explorers handbook—Campus
Creche, 2010).
"#9#@!! %2A)=-A)=-A)!B2+5!C)+)*0)!!
Pukemokemoke Bush Reserve is a 40 hectare remnant of lowland native forest gifted to the
nation by David Johnstone on his death in 1990. The Bush, declared a key ecological site by
Environment Waikato in 2004, is located off the Tauhei-Whitikahu Road near the Tauhei marae
(or complex of buildings used for traditional gatherings for Māori) in the Waikato/Hauraki
district. Local Māori have a strong and ancient affinity for the bush which is very much part of
their history. The reserve’s benefactor was concerned for the future of young people and saw
education as a critical part of his bequest both in the parent trust and the Bush Trust. He wished
that young people could see and enjoy the forest that used to be part of his childhood. It is
administered by a trust that includes representatives from the university and local iwi—tribes
(Irving, 2010).
22
Photograph sourced from Learning Story written by a teacher at Campus Creche Preschool
"#9#D!!B*'..E+!7'*=!!
Brann’s Farm also known as Roydon Downs Bush and Farm is privately owned by Gill and
Geoff Brann. Children, families/whānau and teachers from Papamoa and Paengaroa
Kindergartens visited the farm on a monthly basis during the project. The farm is located six
kilometres from Paengaroa and boasts a redwood forest, streams, meadows and walking tracks
set in re-established native bush.
Photograph sourced from file collection at Papamoa Kindergarten
These two kindergartens also regularly visit their immediate neighbourhoods including the farm
next door, known as Suttons in the case of Paengaroa Kindergarten, and Tui Park as the children
from Papamoa Kindergarten have renamed the local reserve, commonly known as Topaz Park.
!"#9#F!!:'2'-!!
Mauao (Mount Maunganui) is the focal point of the coastal Bay of Plenty. Standing at a height
of 232 metres, Mauao is a dormant volcanic cone and is of great cultural significance for tangata
whenua (the people of the land) and the local community. Owned by local iwi or Māori tribes—
Ngāi Te Rangi, Ngāti Ranginui and Ngāti Pūkenga, this sacred mountain is managed by
Tauranga City Council. The 3.4 kilometre Base Track, suitable for pushchairs, is a popular
destination for Tauranga Region Kindergartens Kimi Haere (learning journeys) by home-based
ECE children, educators and coordinators.
23
Photographs sourced from researcher’s private collection
"#9#G!! 82==)*5/&&!C)(*)'3/-.'&!7'*=!!
Summerhill Recreational Farm is privately owned by David and Chloe Blackley. It is located 20
minutes from Tauranga and 15 minutes from Papamoa and Mount Maunganui. The 130 hectare
recreational area is 250 metres above sea level and has spectacular views of the region. The
farm boasts a mixture of open pasture, mature exotic trees and remnant native forest. There are
several streams and a dam with an associated pond. This is also a popular destination for the
home-based ECE Kimi Haere.
Photographs taken during home-based ECE Kimi Haere by (L) teachers and (R) Scooby Doo 23.06
"#9#H!! 45)!I./0)*+/3>!-6!J'/A'3-!K'=/&3-.!('=,2+!!
The University of Waikato Hamilton campus occupies a 68-hectare block of land that was
transferred to the Waikato-Tainui iwi in 1996 as part of the Crown’s settlement of their raupatu
or confiscated land claim. The university leases back the land. Campus Creche is associated
with the university and caters for the children of students, staff and the wider community
surrounding the university campus. Creche is operated by a charitable trust and has five centres
located on the university grounds. Teenies is the toddler centre catering for children aged 14
months to 2½ years. Children and their teachers regularly explore the campus across the road
which boasts a village green, duck ponds, boardwalks, playing fields and bush areas as well as a
range of university buildings.
A concrete example of the spread of Forest School ideology can be found in their Ngahere
Explorers handbook (Campus Creche, 2010) where it states that,
Ngahere (forest) Explorers is an innovative educational approach to outdoor
play and learning. The philosophy of this approach is to encourage children to
experience positive learning opportunities in a native bush setting. Ngahere
Explorers follows some of the concepts introduced throughout Europe with
their Forest School’s model.
24
Unsurprisingly, senior staff in this setting had visited Forest Kindergartens in Germany and the
United Kingdom as part of an Aotearoa New Zealand ECE study tour.
Both images sourced from Google Images – University of Waikato, CampusMap Creche.jpg
The sites presented in this chapter represent the multiple nature-based locations that formed the
basis of our investigation. Each location shared an espoused commitment to nature-based
education and sustainable practice. ECEfS was actively promoted on their advertising material,
in their strategic plans and in the dialogue shared throughout the project. For example on a
website, one of the organisations states:
Tauranga Region Kindergartens has endorsed education for sustainability (EfS).
This means we are working to operate the educational programme, and our
kindergartens, in a sustainable manner…. Endorsing EfS means that all our
kindergartens and the administration are on board with sustainability,
and resources will be provided to support them. It provides an opportunity to
create a difference for our environment by focusing on sustainability practices
for children, whānau and local communities.
(http://www.taurangakindergarten.org/Sustainable-Education.html).
In the chapter that follows the glossary (Chapter 3) we examine research sites’ practice in light
of these commitments, and the ways in which provision and pedagogies supported, and also
challenged, this agenda.
OP[. .*C?<<=@6.
Ao world
Aotearoa land of the Long White Cloud, Māori name for New Zealand
Aroha expression of love, care
Awa river
Hapū sub tribe, descent group, wider kin than whānau
Hui social gathering or meeting
Iwi tribe, collection of hapū, people
Kaitiaki guardian, trustee, protector, spirit guardians
Kaitiakitanga ethic of guardianship, stewardship, protection
Karakia incantation, chant, prayer, ritual
Kaumātua / mātua elders, male elders
Kaupapa plan, theoretical framework, philosophy
Kimi Haere learning journey
Kuia older woman
Kura Taiao Enviroschools
Manaaki hospitality, generosity, compassion, respect, kindness
Manaakitanga ethic of hospitality, generosity, care
Marae complex of buildings used for traditional gatherings for Māori
Matariki Māori New Year
25
Mātauranga knowledge
Maunga mountain
Mauri life essence, life principle (metaphysical concept)
Mokopuna grandchildren
Mihimihi oral greeting, oral introduction, a speech
Moana sea
Ngahere native bush, forest
Pākehā of European descent, white person, a New Zealander of non-Māori
descent
Papatūānuku/Papa Mother Earth
Pou carved wooden post, upright post, support, pole, sustenance
Pūrākau stories, oral histories
Rakau wood, wooden, pole, tree stick
Tangata whenua people of the land, locals
Tamariki children
Tāne Mahuta god of the forests, plants, birds and animals
Taniwhā mythical monster in traditional stories, guardian spirit, guardian
Taonga valued possession, something tangible or intangible that is highly
valued
Te reo Māori language
Teina younger sibling, cousin, novice
Tikanga Māori customary practice
Tuakana elder sibling, cousin, same gender, more competent other
Wairua spirit, shadow
Wairuatanga spiritual connectedness
Waka canoe, ancestral canoe
Whakapapa origins, oral narrative, history of genealogy, action for / towards the
land
Whānaungatanga relating to others as you would a member of your family, as kin
Whānau extended family
Whāriki woven mat
Whenua land, the natural environment, also refers to the placenta
Our thanks to Mika (2011) for reminding us of the complexity of Māori etymology, that is the
history, origin, form and meaning of words and how they have changed over time; thanks also
to Ritchie et al. (2010) for our extensive borrowing from their Glossary. Finally, we
acknowledge the existence on many Māori loanwords in the everyday language of Pākehā and
other New Zealanders and refer readers to the website ‘100 Māori words every New Zealander
should know’ (http://www.nzhistory.net.nz/culture/Māori-language-week/100-Māori-words).
26
CHAPTER(3: METHODOLOGY((
The Ngahere Project is another study aimed at practice in the ECE sector and the research ‘hole’
in this area. At the commencement of project in 2010, much of the literature in this field
concerned practical considerations such as bush safety, equipment and technical (or scientific)
knowledge about the environment (Chaille & Britain, 2003; Haesaerts, 2002; Warden; 2005;
2007). While there was potential to draw from studies that have taken place in school-based
services it appeared that ECE practice in outdoor settings was moving ahead of the research
base. Research of this nature has become more common recently. In the section that follows, the
research methodology and associated methods for such an emphasis, are presented.
G=@E8D8B=9E<..
Management representatives, lead researchers and other teacher participants self-selected for the
research and are individually named in the Acknowledgements section of this report. A lead
teacher researcher was identified in each site to drive the research and liaise with the university.
Four participants (management representatives including senior teachers) had been on Forest
Kindergarten study tours to Germany and the United Kingdom, in the year prior to the project’s
commencement; five teachers currently work together in an Enviroschools’ kindergarten, and all
of the participants including management representatives were qualified registered teachers1
(with two exceptions—a student teacher undertaking a field-based teaching qualification, and a
home-based educator 2). Of the thirty-three teachers, management representatives and
researchers involved in the project, three were male and the rest were female.
,F5.B=@E8D8B=E89;.5=@C6.DF8C:F??:.5:ID=E8?9.D59E@5<.
The six early ECE settings that participated in the project were managed and operated under the
auspices of two non-profit organisations; Tauranga Regional Free Kindergarten Association in
the Bay of Plenty, and Campus Creche Trust in the Waikato. The settings differed from each
other in roll characteristics, socioeconomic profile, service type, operation, and staffing. Table 2
gives a profile of the settings.
1 Holding an ECE teaching qualification recognised by the New Zealand Teachers Council—a three year diploma or
degree or a one year post graduate qualification. Under the Education (Early Childhood Services) Regulations 2008
all teachers at Supervisor level must also be registered as teachers by the New Zealand Teachers Council.
2 There is no requirement for home-based educators to be qualified. However, a HBECE Coordinator is a qualified
teacher who is responsible for a home-based service, visiting educators and observing children participating in
service, at least monthly, under Education (Early Childhood Services) Regulations 2008, Regulation 28(2), (b) & (c).
27
Table 1: Profile of the early childhood education settings
Name
Type and
operation**
Roll**
Socioeconomic profile*
Main child ethnicity**
Home-based
ECE service3
(suburban)
Home-based
Four only
children aged
over two
Middle/high income
All Pākehā4
Maungaarangi
Kindergarten and
Whānau Centre
(suburban)
Kindergarten and
Family Centre
Open school hours
40 over twos
Low income
Approximately three quarters
Māori and one quarter Pākehā.
Paengaroa
Kindergarten
(rural)
Kindergarten
Sessional
Morning roll:
30 over twos
Afternoon roll:
30 over twos
Low/ middle income
Approximately half Pākehā with
the next largest group being Māori
and a small number of other groups
including Pasifika, other European
and Indian.
Papamoa
Kindergarten
(coastal
suburban)
Kindergarten
Sessional
Morning roll:
40 over twos
Afternoon roll:
30 over twos
Low/ middle income
Approximately half Pākehā with
the next largest groups being
Māori, Indian and a small number
of other groups.
Campus Creche
Preschool
(community)
Education and
care
Full day
40 over twos
Low/high income
Approximately half Pākehā with
the next largest groups being
Māori, Asian and a small number
of other groups.
Campus Creche
Teenies
(community)
Education and
care
Full day
24 aged 14–30
months
(over and under
twos)
Low/high income
Approximately half Pākehā with
the next largest group being Māori.
Chinese, other European, Samoan,
Tongan and a small number of
other groups.
*As identified by ECE staff
**Information from ERO reports conducted in 2011
Prior to the start of the project, ethics approval was gained from The University of Waikato
Faculty of Education Research Ethics Committee. Informed written consent was obtained from
participants including teacher-researchers, parents/caregivers, and children.
Anonymity was not afforded to the research sites (i.e., the centres/services involved in the
project) as we anticipated that they would be identifiable because of the knowledge within the
wider early childhood professional community and beyond. Hence, throughout our
dissemination we have often named both the research sites and the teachers (by first name only).
!DE8?9.@5<5=@DF\.@5<5=@DF.]I5<E8?9<.=9:.BF=<5<..
Cardno’s (2010) action research model guided our project as we sought to address research
questions related to teaching and learning possibilities in nature settings. Two overarching
questions were developed by research participants at the initial ‘reconnaissance phase’ meeting:
1. What might nature-based learning look like in diverse Aotearoa New Zealand ECE
services that are committed to sustainability?
2. What are some of the pedagogical issues and provocations teachers face in this domain?
These questions were underpinned by supplementary research questions specific to each site
that were developed during the reconnaissance phase (See Table 3).
The project took place over eighteen months and was comprised of three phases as shown in the
diagram: Reconnaissance, Intervention and Evaluation. Details of what happened in each phase
are outlined below.
3 ECE service based in educator’s home licensed under the Education (Early Childhood Services) Regulations (2008).
4 Non Māori New Zealander; European; usually applied to white person.
28
Figure 2: Action Research Cycle
(Cardno, 2010)
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The researchers met with teachers from Campus Creche and Tauranga Region Kindergartens
over a two-day period, to investigate existing beliefs, values and relevant pedagogy associated
with experiences in outdoor contexts within and beyond the immediate ECE setting.
i. A relationship agreement was developed between members of the group in terms of
collaborative research practice and protocols in developmental action research
methodology (Cardno, 2003).
ii. Teachers from each ECE setting were invited to share their vision, philosophy, rationale
and current practices around teaching and learning possibilities in nature settings in 30-
minute presentations to the wider group at a research hui (meeting).
iii. Researchers led a discussion around the pedagogical strategies that teachers employ
during nature-based learning experiences, and intended outcomes for children, families
/whānau and community. Teachers were invited to ask questions of one another and
share issues and/or challenges that they were facing.
iv. Researchers invited teachers in each setting to formulate specific research questions (as
learning objectives) for their context, based on aspects of their practice in nature
settings (Table 3).
v. A heuristic meaning-making map was developed and two overarching research
questions for the project identified (see above).
vi. Data, that had been audio-recorded, was generated in the form of a focus group
interview involving 15 people, lead researchers, management representatives and other
interested teachers (hereafter referred to as the initial focus group or IFG).
%5'+)!4N-MO.3)*0).3/-.!!
Researchers and teachers negotiated and planned interventions that were relevant for each ECE
context, based on their research question. Table 4 shows the research questions and the methods
used to generate data that made up our specific ‘mosaic’ (Clark & Moss, 2001; Clark, 2005b).
29
Table 2: The Ngahere Project Mosaic
Site/Setting
Context
Research question
Method
Campus Creche
Preschool
Regular outings to
Pukemokemoke
Reserve
How do teachers ‘see’ children’s
dispositions being affected by nature-
based curriculum experiences?
Assessment documentation i.e.,
- Learning stories
- Video diaries
Campus Creche
Teenies
Regular outings to
adjacent university
campus
What professional judgments do teachers
make during outings with children, and
why?
- Video diaries
Papamoa
Kindergarten
Regular outings to
Brann’s Farm and
local
neighbourhood
How do children express their working
theories after regular engagement with
nature outside the gate?
Assessment documentation i.e.,
- Learning stories
- ‘Group-time’ videos following
visits
Paengaroa
Kindergarten
Regular outings to
Brann’s Farm and
local
neighbourhood
How does the nature environment
influence teacher pedagogy?
- Audio-recorded staff meetings
- Reflective diaries
Maungaarangi
Kindergarten
Mostly on-site
nature-based
experiences
explicitly linked to
teaching
philosophy
What can local tikanga Māori teach a
kindergarten learning community about
engaging with nature?
- Oral interviews (tangata whenua)
- Assessment documentation i.e.,
- Learning stories
Home-based ECE
service
Regular outings
known as Kimi
Haere or learning
journeys
What do children ‘see’ in nature-based
education beyond the gate?
- Photo generation
- Stimulated recall interviews with
children
Data generation methods were selected and teachers were encouraged to read research texts of
relevance to their specific research question and methods.
Informed consent/assent was gained from children and their families, and children chose their
own pseudonyms to safeguard their anonymity, Children chose names such as Coco, Barbie,
Ben Ten, Ben10—many from their favourite TV shows. They had ongoing opportunities to
consent or assent to their participation and several children withdrew from the project during its
term.
Data generation in the form of field-based interventions took place in each setting, over an
eight-week period, based on methods outlined in Table 3.
Combining participatory research tools relevant to young children by using different data
sources led to the creation of a fuller picture of children’s learning experiences in nature settings.
The strength of having all these sites was that they represented a diverse sample group in
keeping with Aotearoa New Zealand ECE provision, and each site contributed unique
perspectives to the overarching research questions.
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Researchers supported teachers to analyse their data, in relation to specific research questions. A
further two-day hui was held where teachers presented their preliminary findings and
participants responded to the overarching research questions noting shifts that had occurred
during the research.
Further data was generated in the form of a second focus group interview involving 10 people,
lead researchers, management representatives and other interested teachers (hereafter referred to
as the final focus group or FFG) that was audio recorded at the end of this meeting.
Researchers and teachers collaborated in planning for future curriculum, pedagogy and policy,
as a result of analysis, after consideration of what had been learned during the project.
30
,F5?@5E8D=C.B5@<B5DE8T5<.
A series of explicit and implicit values and principles about research underpinned the project.
These co-existed with philosophies and ideologies held individually and/or collectively by
participants. This amalgam made up our methodology (Roberts-Holmes, 2011).
Based on several political, social and research agendas, our approach sought to embrace:
“children’s rights under the United Nations Convention on the Rights of the Child” (United
Nations, 1989); “the sociology of childhood” (James & Prout, 1997); “a deepening
understanding of sociocultural theory in practice; increasing awareness and appreciation of the
education approach in Reggio Emilia centres in Italy” (Edwards, Gandini, & Forman, 1998);
and “work that investigates the power relations between adults and children” (Peters & Kelly,
2011, p. 20).
An interpretive [hermeneutic] paradigm informed our research (Davey, 1999; see also Giles,
2008) as we sought to hear children’s perspectives on their learning (Carr, 2000; see also Clark,
2005b; Clark, McQuail, & Moss, 2003) and experiences outdoors (Waller, 2006). We drew on
two key theories related to listening and seeing young children.
i. The ‘listening approach’ positioned toddlers and young children as experts in their own
lives: as active participants with agency; as skilful communicators; and as researchers
and explorers involved in meaning-making, that is, making sense of the world. Clark &
Moss (2001) argue that listening to children focuses on the role of the adult in relation
to the child involving an active process of exchange of meanings, whereas, in the
Reggio Emilia pedagogy of listening, visible listening is positioned alongside multiple
listening (Rinaldi, 2001).
ii. The ‘seeing approach’ positioned toddlers and young children as complex learners,
agentic partners (capable of interpreting their learning alongside adults); alteric players
(subject to change from moment to moment, not fixed or static); and beyond adult ways
of knowing. Under the broad framework of dialogism (White, 2009) such approaches
emphasise the role of young children in research as particular in their own right, whose
seen and heard voices were central to our understanding.
Our mosaic involved familiar as well as new methods of data generation/collection. Generally,
teachers worked with methods familiar to them and appropriate to the research questions
(Christenson & James, 2000), such as writing and analysing ‘learning stories’—a narrative form
of assessment (Carr, 2001; Carr & Lee, 2012), interviewing adults, audio-taping staff meetings,
videoing group times (Flewitt, 2006) and completing reflective diaries (Broadley & Fagan,
2010). Other methods not used before included a combination of photo generation and
stimulated recall interviews with children borrowed from (Einarsdóttir, 2007). Children were
encouraged to take photographs, select their favourite ones and then be interviewed about their
selections (Clark, 2005a). Whilst this method proved challenging, it was powerful and honoured
key tenets of our research methodologies around a broadened interprettion of ‘voice’, seeing and
listening. Einarsdóttir argues that if the right methods are used, children will be able to speak for
themselves. She suggests that this method is particularly useful for ECE but cautions that
researchers need to take care to interpret the children’s words through the child’s voice, not their
own. We continued to be reflective in order to heed this advice.
The second innovative method used was video diary (Barrett, 2005). A University of Waikato
colleague Elaine Bliss introduced us to a form of digital storytelling, using video recordings of
reflections and we came up with the practice of recording ten twenty-minute individual teacher
reflections, at weekly intervals, as a way of capturing the immediacy of pedagogical moments.
For instance, at Campus Creche Teenies, teachers recorded their reflections when they returned
from outings with toddlers. They used the reflective framework broadly aligned to the DATA
model, which involves four stages: describe, analyse, theorise and act (O’Connor & Diggins,
2002; see also Broadley & Fagan, 2010). Many teachers were familiar with this model and used
these processes in their practice. This method proved to be an effective way for busy teachers to
generate data and capture the essence of their pedagogical concerns.
31
)=E=.=9=C6<8<.
Analysis took place in phases. The first round of analysis involved lead researchers/key teachers
working alongside a principal researcher with data generated from the setting (August–October
2011). This was an ongoing process as action research methodology enabled teacher-researchers
and management representatives to keep moving forward, planning and acting on findings, at
the same time as we were reflecting on the process and outcomes (Cardno, 2010).
At the evaluation phase meeting (November 2011) initial research findings relating to individual
site questions were shared and the focus group discussion was recorded in order to answer the
overarching research questions and to note possible shifts (if any) made by participants over the
course of the research project. The reconnaissance and evaluation phase focus groups (IFG and
FFG) transcripts were subject to content analysis using, in the first instance, the research
questions as broad coding guides. Text relating to the main research questions was extracted
from each of the interviews. Using qualitative data analysis software (QSR NUD*IST Vivo
[NVivo], 2008), the text extracts were coded as categories or project nodes.
For our analysis we drew from discourse theory, in particular systemic functional linguistics and
multi-modal discourse analysis (Martin & Rose, 2007) that involved careful consideration of
discreet data sets across time and spaces within an overarching interpretation. This approach to
analysis enabled us to interrogate the data as a social event, embedded within discourses—both
dominant and potentially dormant (Dryzek, 2005). Including children's ‘voices’ within our data
set meant that we paid particular attention to clues beyond verbal language, and included tiers of
meta-analysis beyond our own (i.e., teachers’ analysis of their own research questions).
In addressing our overarching research questions, three key areas for interpretation (Martin &
Rose, 2007) were employed simultaneously, as follows:
1. Ideation—Exploring connections between activities, people, places and things:
Data generated during fieldwork before, during and after outdoor experiences and how
these were "construed in discourse" (p. 73). We looked for relationships and sequences
between practice and place that were evident in words or clauses and images. Main data
sources were field work from teachers and their analysis of findings.
2. Conjunction—examining connections that led to new understanding /purpose/ practice:
Data that shows any shifts in practice that allow participants to draw conclusions or
make comparisons with fresh insight (Martin & Rose, 2007, p. 116). Analysis would
track these and their location in the data. Main data sources were focus group transcripts,
analysis sheets from meetings, and teachers’ comments on data.
3. Periodicity—analyses the rhythm of the discourse:
Data that, taken together, gives clues that remind us of where we have been and where
we are going in order to recognise the journey. Using the rhythm of the discourse “little
waves, bigger waves and tidal waves” of discovery become evident in divided up
clauses over time (Martin & Rose, 2007, p. 187). The main sources of data here were
the final focus group interview, insights generated out of interventions, and any
secondary sources that influenced the project, such as policies and assessment practices,
and represent shifts.
Taken together, these forms of analysis allowed us to deeply interrogate the rich array of data
generated out of the project. In the section that follows we present some of our discoveries.
32
CHAPTER(4: NATURE9BASED(LEARNING(IN(
AOTEAROA(NEW(ZEALAND(
Our research asked two central questions and drew on a vast range of data generated across the
six research sites, and from two focus groups held during hui at the beginning and the end of the
project. In the chapter that follows, we present our findings in relation to first of these questions.
These findings illustrate the cultural situatedness of pedagogy in any location, and the specific
approaches taken in nature-based learning contexts. For these teachers, and the settings in which
they operated, Māori views of the living land with associated accountabilities, the open-ended
nature of the early childhood education curriculum and an interconnected commitment to both
children and their wider world underpinned approaches to nature-based learning. These were
seen as a natural route to sustainability in the education of young children. This is a strong and
defining point of difference. In the sections that follow, we explore this position and its impact
on the diverse types of experiences with nature that were offered beyond, and within, the gate of
the ECE settings.
Our first question asked: What might nature-based learning look like in diverse
Aotearoa New Zealand ECE services that are committed to sustainability.
UP^..#56.8:5=<.I9:5@B89989;.9=EI@5_L=<5:.B@?T8<8?9.
From the outset of our investigations, the six settings shared a commitment to regular
encounters with nature. For every setting, there was a consensus regarding the significance,
power and potential of outdoor environments for children’s learning. This significance was
located around the importance of large, ‘wild’ spaces that were seen as a kind of re-visioned
classroom. Children’s consistent and regular access to nature, based on the close proximity of
nature settings in Aotearoa New Zealand, was promoted as an entitlement for all.
A defining feature of nature-based provision was associated with the particular access it gave to
large spaces. As one participant hypothesised: “The bigger the space you’ve got to run around
in and do things in, the better educational outcomes for kids” [Peter, IFG: 310–312]. Another
described these spaces as “compensatory” because they ameliorated some of the damaging
impacts of what teachers perceived to be related to small centre spaces5 which limited children’s
learning opportunities. While neither of these claims were specifically explored in the research,
they provided strong incentives for the types of provision that were offered.
In all of the research sites, teachers, children and (sometimes) family/whānau members went on
excursions ‘beyond the gate’. These first-hand experiences with places, and (sometimes) people
in the community, varied depending on factors such as destination, funding, purpose, and
relationship to the programme or curriculum of the setting. In Te Whāriki, ‘curriculum’ is
described as:
the sum total of experiences, activities and events, whether direct or indirect,
which occur within an environment designed to foster learning and
development. (Ministry of Education, 1996, p. 99)
Yet no two research sites provided exactly the same kind of nature-based education even in the
same nature setting. Each approached the field in different ways: as one teacher explained
5 New Zealand ECE settings are regulated by Ministry of Education that specifies minimum spatial requirements per
child in any centre context.
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.ZP12('3/-.[\P'*&>[?5/&15--1[8)*0/()+][C);2&'3/-.+["UUHZ*)+)&^+*Y$
33
All of us have a unique system of what we are doing, so all of us working
together is going to show that “you don’t have to do it our way, you don’t have
to do it this way or this way, but you can do it your own way” and it will be
your own. [Tim, IFG: 750–752]
For some, nature-based learning was described as an opportunity to explore the wider world: “to
get outside the traditional centre gates and explore the outside world and go to spaces where—it
may be a park or some kind of bush land or whatever where they can gather and explore, and
have their learning scaffolded by others” [Annette, IFG: 3–6]. For others, the outdoors provided
an antidote to the commercial world that they believed dominated children’s lives even in ECE
contexts. They identified nature based provision as “defined as trees, grass and a lack of man-
made/manufactured play equipment” [Paengaroa Kindergarten, initial analysis notes].
Spiders’ webs at Brann’s Farm—Photograph sourced from Learning Story written by teachers
at Papamoa Kindergarten
The Aotearoa New Zealand landscape offered rich outdoor opportunities beyond the centre gate.
This was identified as a strong catalyst for experiences in the bush and other local places and
spaces. A return to natural resources and nature provision was signalled by almost every teacher
throughout the study. They shared a commitment to access nature across each ECE site and
upheld their convictions despite the many challenges they faced in doing so.
D#$!I./_2)!3-!`-3)'*-'!a)N!b)'&'.1!
Whilst some teachers and management representatives had seen examples of nature-based early
childhood education overseas, they were clear that what was conceived in Aotearoa New
Zealand should be (and was) different and unique. A student teacher, infuenced by colleagues
who had visited Forest Kindergartens on the other side of the world, was emphatic at the outset
of the research;
We’re not going into pure ‘forest kindergarten’. We’re not saying we’ll go into
no electricity, no plumbing, nothing of that. We’re saying ‘let’s make our own
thing’. We’ll hybridise everything and that will be Aotearoa New Zealand. [Tim,
IFG: 695–697]
Others agreed, highlighting the unique social and cultural context this country afforded:
We are mindful of fads in early childhood that come from the northern
hemisphere that aren’t relevant to us. And when I think of forest I think of
forestry as a commercial venture, but when I think of native bush I think of
something completely different. And when I think of taking children into that
nature setting and teaching and learning in that environment surrounded by their
family and whānau, it is a totally different look. It is something that is unique. It
supports our beautiful curriculum and I think it will make that come alive in a
new way for us, anyway. [Cathie, IFG; 794–801]
34
These sentiments are echoed by Wray, Espiner & Perkins (2011) who argue that, “engagement
with the outdoors is a core element of New Zealand’s heritage, identity and culture” (p. 140). In
The Ngahere Project outdoor education was consistently seen as an integral part of what it
means to be a New Zealander. This engagement applied to Māori and non-Māori alike and was
visible in the learning outcomes of Te Whāriki. It is also evident in the guiding principles of
Enviroschools—a programme that heavily influenced some of these ECE settings. The taonga
(treasures to be protected) status of the earth is also fundamental to Māori views on
sustainability (see 2.3). In the Treaty of Waitangi, the British Crown guaranteed Māori the
protection of their land, resources, rights, belief systems, and self-determination (Colbung et al.,
2007). The word taonga or treasures was used in terms of what would be protected. Over time,
taonga has been claimed to include treasures such as language, culture, land and even the seabed
and foreshore in Aotearoa New Zealand politics.
This precept alongside the principle that everything related to the earth has mauri or a life force
heavily influenced the provision of outdoor learning in this study. Kaitiakitanga (stewardship,
guardianship or protection) and manaakitanga (caring) that derive from these notions were
evident in both focus group dialogues about the underpinnings of nature-based education, and in
the programmes themselves.
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Teachers from several research sites actively promoted an exploration of children’s connections
with the land as an important part of outdoor provision. They viewed these connections as
central to the promotion of sustainable practice. One Māori teacher explained his view that
nature-based education starts with learning about land features close at hand because such
knowledge facilitates engagement and, therefore, a relationship. He suggested that engagement
was the first step towards protection because nature became relational and demanded
responsiveness:
It comes down from the mountains and it grows from the rain
And that river has got some taniwhā in it
And that river holds wairua
And that wairua got its name from whatever the story is
So it’s bringing that history back to the present day …
And if we make that real to us, the teachers initially,
then it’s probably easier to make it real for our children
that it’s a living, breathing entity…. [Henare, IFG: 26–32]
Another Māori participant highlighted the significance of stewardship of the land in folklore and
legislation alike. She summoned the notion of ‘partnership’ from the Treaty of Waitangi, also
explicit in Te Whāriki, which “reflects this partnership in text and structure” (p. 9). In doing so
she invoked a similar relational stance between human and non-human alike:
Our tangata whenua (indigenous people), they are the people of the land. When
Māori people refer to where they come from they have a real connection with
the land. That’s why I think that we need to have that component in this
research because Māori people really value where they come from—whether
that’s a bit of bush or that bit of coast or [land] in their legends. They all revolve
around caring for the land and how it was created and how we need to care for it.
We have a Treaty that we have to uphold, and that we have to abide by and
teach. And if we are not acknowledging all of that, well then we are not holding
up our partnership. As teachers we are not doing our bit. [Lynley, IFG: 511–520]
Pākehā participants also made historical connections with the land in keeping with Ka’ai &
Higgins (2004) who note that, “the Pākehā who came to Aotearoa New Zealand originally had
their traditional ways of viewing the world, as did Māori” (p. 13). One person contrasted the
beliefs of these two peoples—pointing specifically at “the strength of indigenous peoples who
hold to those beliefs as opposed to the English, alienated from the land” [Peter, IFG: 482–484].
These perspectives caused another participant to draw parallels between Māori and Celts
35
arguing that they both “had been alienated from their land by a dominant culture” (Peter, IFG:
511–531), hence both shared a sense of loss of, and respect for, the land.
Consistent with the spirit of partnership that is evident in both the Treaty of Waitangi and in Te
Whāriki, the bicultural ECE curriculum, teachers’ understandings and empathy with Māori
world-views were central to their interest and associated provision of outdoor education. Given
the investigation’s unique Aotearoa New Zealand context, including the influence of Te Whāriki,
it is unsurprising that many teachers emphasised the cultural aspects of nature-based learning as
a route to sustainability. Within this discourse there is an easy association between nature
settings and sustainability, particularly conservation. Alongside this focus was a desire to
support the revitalisation of culture through the environment, and vice versa, the revitalisation
of the environment via culture through such provision.
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In each research setting, teachers’ operationalised nature-based learning in unique ways. The
frequency of planned excursions during the two month data collection period varied from
setting to setting. For example, the home-based Kimi Haere to different places in the
community took place weekly, as did the Campus Creche Ngahere Explorers (up to seven
children) visits to Pukemokemoke. The latter was a structured ten-week programme with
specific learning outcomes. It has a strong resemblance to Forest School definitions (see 2.5.8).
In contrast, the entire kindergarten morning group at Papamoa (up to 40 children) and
Paengaroa (up to 30 children) visited Brann’s Farm on a monthly basis. At Maungaarangi
Kindergarten, exploration of the potential of spaces within the gate was prioritised. However, in
keeping with their curriculum focus on pūrākau, a trip to see where Te Pura lived—the taniwhā
who was the guardian spirit of the river—took place during the research.
Trip to see Te Pura in the Wairoa River—Photographs sourced from Learning Story
written by teachers at Maungaarangi Kindergarten
While destination was important, the journey itself was also seen as part of the experience.
Small groups of toddlers from the Campus Creche Teenies centre, aged between 14–30 months,
visited the university campus regularly on foot. The journey, with all of the spontaneous,
unplanned ‘experiences, activities and events’ along the way, was seen as much a part of their
nature-based learning as their specific weekly destinations. Crossing the road, watching
happenings at the building site fence, jumping in puddles, and negotiating space with people
and vehicles—all this, and more, became seen as significant experiential learning in the
outdoors for this age group and, by association, a source of constant pedagogical decision-
making for teachers [Campus Creche Teenies, Video diaries—various].
The bus or car trip or van ride was also a significant part of nature-based learning for children
from all of the other research sites.
36
Ngahere Explorers in the hired university van—Photograph sourced from Learning Story
written by teachers at Campus Creche Preschool
Spontaneous events, such as a child dropping a walnut on the floor of the bus on the trip from
Brann’s Farm back to Paengaroa Kindergarten, were the source of much shared joint attention
and hilarity.
Well, the bus started going and he dropped one, and it rolled down (laughs) and
because we were going down, it started rolling down the bus towards the front,
and across from [one side of] the aisle to the other. We were watching it and
laughing—‘Can you see the walnut?’ and then M, she was sitting up the front,
she saw it, you know, and so she was giving her commentary when it was up
the front she’d tell us where it is, and we were up the back sort of guessing
where it might come out, and, oh it was so much fun just watching the walnut
roll around. And N, little N, she was just entranced. The look on her face was
just really excited, it was just … it was very funny. It was a lot of fun. Just a
walnut rolling around a bus. (Laughs.). [Julie D, Paengaroa Kindergarten, staff
meeting transcript: 1 July]
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Through the research processes, particularly at Maungaarangi Kindergarten, where teachers
specifically sought this topic in their research question, they realised the depth of the children’s
understanding of the kindergarten’s kaupapa/philosophy and tikanga Māori/customary practice.
Teachers spoke frequently of ako, a traditional Māori pedagogy, at work, where the learner is
the teacher and the teacher is the learner. Encounters with nature provided opportunities for
teachers to recognise that children, particularly Māori tamariki, were teaching them and other
adults, and other children who were not native to Aotearoa New Zealand.
It was hugely apparent to me that many of our children are knowledgeable and
tikanga Māori is inherent, whether it is local, whānau-based or a combination of
the two. For me, I have learned alongside the tamariki and those [Māori] living
and breathing tikanga have passed on this knowledge to the other tamariki in
many ways. Ben Ten (pseudonym) is a perfect example of a child at
Maungaarangi who personifies tikanga for me [Refer Learning Story, p. 38]. He
is teaching a child from Wales, and teachers like me from Scotland. [Fiona,
Maungaarangi Kindergarten, initial analysis notes]
Two Māori elders from the local community were interviewed about the visibility (or lack of) of
local tikanga within this setting; “the way I see kaitiakitanga, you are already doing it” [Nan:
Maungaarangi Kindergarten interview transcript]. Both the kuia and kaumātua commented on
the land and its care. The kaumātua provided a salutary message for the teachers, “underneath
we all know that the land doesn’t belong to us. We do know that, we are only here to care for it”
[Mātua: Maungaarangi Kindergarten, interview transcript].
They also commented positively on the aesthetics of the kindergarten inside the gate, favourably
noting either the absence of anything plastic or the use of only natural resources. These elders
37
interpreted the indoor and outdoor environments as teaching children about nature and the god
of the forests and plants.
Inside, the building speaks for itself. Just having a look at the resources that are
hanging up in there and the way you run your curriculum. It’s all about the
natural world … every resource that’s hanging up there, every resource that’s
down on the floor, that’s in between the floor and the building and that’s
coming down from the ceiling. Those are the resources I’m talking about.
Obviously, you’ve, with your curriculum it looks like you, you taught the
children about rakau. Rakau is Tāne Mahuta, one of the gods, so there’s a lot of
that inside the building. I cannot see one plastic [thing] inside the building. I
cannot see any outside the building either and what I do see outside the
building—looks like the children have participated in growing and gardens
which was a big thing when I was growing up. [Nan: Maungaarangi
Kindergarten, interview transcript]
Both elders commented on their childhood experiences gardening and recounted memories of
harvesting crops around the time of Matariki. They connected these traditional activities with
the kindergarten’s extensive gardens and the community celebration of the Māori New Year that
took place during the study. They considered these real-life learning experiences highly
significant for children's learning.
It’s really helpful for our kids learning these sort of things, like I say our
teenagers have gone away from that too far, as far as I’m concerned … and it’s
hard to bring them back in … it is really hard … we’re trying with the kids that
we’ve got now, trying to get them back into the tikanga … learning at an early
stage it’s going to stay in there … it is, it is! [Mātua, Maungaarangi
Kindergarten, interview transcript]
These dialogues suggest that the kindergarten plays a significant role supporting the
revitalisation of tikanga Māori in terms of protocols, rituals, celebrations and pūrākau through
engagement with nature in their community. At several research sites teachers regularly used
pūrākau to support young children’s knowledge and actions in relationship to the treasured
environment. This practice is consistent with Lee (2009) who argues that pūrākau contain
morals or lessons to learn. For instance, before the Ngahere Explorers from Campus Creche
Preschool enter the bush on their weekly excursions to Pukemokemoke, it is customary for
experienced children in the group to act out the story of Rata and the waka (sometimes called
Rata and the totara tree) for the newcomers. This initiation rite includes children asking Tāne
Mahuta, the god of the forest, birds and animals, if they can enter his world and agreeing that
they will look after the bush, taking only dead things and their rubbish with them when they
leave. This pūrākau is ideal for reinforcing children’s understandings of conservation and
sustainable practices.
Rata and the tree—Photograph sourced from Learning Story written by teachers at Campus Creche Preschool.
This same pūrākau is one of the key stories underpinning the curriculum at Maungaarangi
Kindergarten. Teachers have identified the core learnings that derive from Rata and the waka as:
38
an understanding of natural world, making connections to the community and world,
kaitiakitanga, a sense of connection to the land, responsibility, asking for permission and
following procedures.
In a Learning Story entitled Ben Ten’s relationship with Papatūānuku, this child demonstrates
his learning from the pūrākau, Rata and the waka (canoe) by asking for permission to gather
sticks for his artwork.
Excerpts from Learning Story by Whaea Fee, a teacher at Maungaarangi Kindergarten
“Papa’s not sad.
I asked her for these sticks and she said I could
have them.”
Whenua Whangaihia (Translated as living alongside the natural world)
Asking for permission
Even without going beyond the gate, space was being created for dialogue, investigation and
debate as well as action. This was achieved through careful attention to the living aspects of
nature, its cultural significance and its prominence in the learning environment.
Respect for the environment was a value that all of the teachers in the study sought to foster. In
one setting, there was an expectation that children would adhere to the rules, respecting the
boundaries teachers put in place for them. One child’s behaviour was described as ‘disruptive’
and it was noted that she had to be spoken to about ‘destroying the nature’. The teacher reported
that the child had “snapped a whole lot of fungus off a tree” [Tim, Campus Creche Preschool,
Video diary: 15.06]. There were suggestions that she might be “stood down” from the following
week’s trip as a consequences of her actions. However, two weeks later it was noted that her
behaviour, and that of several peers, was markedly different. They had “stopped shouting, were
enjoying looking and exhibiting leadership skills” [Tim, Campus Creche Preschool, Video diary:
29.06]. Teachers celebrated these skills which were in line with the explicit goals that were set
for the programme—(Campus Creche, 2010). It could be deduced that these children had now
become familiar with the environment and the expectations therein. This is consistent with
teachers identifying that children went from being novices to experts in the ways of the Ngahere
Explorers over the ten weeks of the programme (Lave & Wenger, 1991) or from “teina to
tuakana—the younger or less competent to the elder or more competent” [Lynley, Campus
Creche Preschool, Video diary, 08.06].
While respect for the environment was a core value teachers wanted to pass on, one teacher
reminded us to avoid clichéd and romanticised views arguing instead for a realistic appreciation
of nature
We do it to encourage the love of nature … how can we love every aspect of
nature when it can cause so much fear, so much destruction, and it’s a force that
humans cannot harness. What we can teach is how to respect nature, to
understand the forces of nature, to be in wonderment and awe of nature, to be in
tune with our planet. [Debbie, Reflection: 03.06]
39
An understanding of the links between past and present, home, the ECE setting and the wider
world; skills in caring for ourselves, each other and the environment—manaakitanga (Ritchie,
Duhn, Rau, & Craw, 2010); and experiencing stories and symbols from our own and other
cultures are all fundamental to the tenets of Te Whāriki. Nature-based education in these settings
responds to curriculum obligations and is connected to children’s rights—to play, to education,
to culture, and to protection.
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Children's rights were consistently referred to in the initial focus group discussion. Teachers and
management representatives recognised their role in upholding children’s rights to play and to
have regular access to culture, recreation and the arts based on Article 31 of the United Nations
Convention on the Rights of the Child (United Nations, 1989). One participant noted that
We have a social and moral obligation as Aotearoa New Zealanders as
signatories to the rights of the child, and as educationalists, to actually uphold
and maintain what we’ve signed. [Kathryn, IFG3: 253–256]
Consumerism and the increasing pace of life alluded to by participants were coupled with the
notion that society (and ECE) had become overprotective of children. As a result, many teachers
believed that children can be denied the freedom to be expressive, creative and active, based on
the false belief that their best interests are upheld in doing so—a point also expressed by
Alderson (2008). Several participants articulated their desire to support families/whānau to
move away from mass-consumption through greater engagement with nature. One participant,
possibly with low-income families/whānau from her community in mind, wanted to reassure
parents that
It’s OK not to have all the gadgets and gizmos and things and that it’s cool to
play with kiwifruit boxes. Just, yeah stripping it back and showing them that it’s
cool to play with sticks or whatever. They don’t need all that stuff. [Fiona, IFG:
916–919]
From the outset of the research, several teachers were resolute about their resistance to “the
gizmo world” of “plastic toys”. We’ve cluttered our centres and we’ve cluttered our brains as
well—there’s just too much to work with [Annette, IFG: 646–647]. Others nodded their support;
… we’ve overcooked their lives with gizmos and things and so many of these
things are so not open ended, it’s a two-minute affair and they’ve been
discarded … [and] as teachers we’ve got trapped in that fast-paced world as
well, you know because we’ve got so many children [in centres] and so much to
do—buy the gizmo, it’s much easier. [Annette, IFG: 16–18; 649–651]
Clearly, these developments were not seen in the best interests of the child, as discussed in
Article 3 of the United Nations Convention on the Rights of the Child (United Nations, 1989).
There was recognition implicit in the teachers’ remarks that education for sustainable
development is imbued with notions of supporting children’s right to a ‘good’ life, survival, and
development in a safe and healthy world. The notion of children as healthy human beings and
the role that ECE has to play in this regard were also implied. Some participants expressed
views consistent with Waters (2011) suggestion that ‘play’ and ‘nature’, fundamental tenets of
early childhood education, have been “eroded from many children’s lived experiences” (p. 251).
Such views were strong catalysts for the kind of provision that was offered in these ECE
settings.
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Teachers argued that the places they accessed for outdoor adventures with children afforded
them luxuries not readily available inside the setting gates [or at home, seemingly]. The
significance of additional sustained time in nature settings was a repeated refrain from teachers.
They stressed time, on nature-based excursions, for children to become familiar with the space.
40
Time in special places; time to appreciate nature, to slow down and be ‘in the moment’, to
explore and discover; and time to nurture wonderment and awe, were all mentioned. These
teachers appeared to be contrasting ‘slowed down’ time with the busy pace of life nowadays,
especially for young children. They argued that there was space to play in the outdoors; space to
be listened to and to be heard because there were fewer distractions and they [the adults] were
more ‘present’ and ‘mindful’ in their relationships with children and nature [Focus groups and
analysis from various site data]. Even in the outdoors, some teachers felt they had to resist busy-
ness to reap the full benefits. One teacher explains
It’s really nice when you almost stay in one place, because the play changes. I
said ‘we’re just going to play for a while, Sam, and just be here’. It was really
interesting … it gives them time to do things because if we race from one
destination to another, or do too much walking, they haven’t got time to get
involved in imaginary play. It chills everybody out, everybody gradually chills,
and they let children take more risk, and they let them go that little bit further on
their own. [Debbie, staff meeting transcript, 3 June]
Central to the teachers' agenda was their identified need to shape societal and government views
through their practice in nature-based education. Children’s right to access the living world, and
to learn to care for it, was keenly felt in the views of several teachers about what early
childhood education should not look like. They were critical of some centre environments [and
public spaces] calling them ‘concrete jungles’ [Julie S, IFG: 152], or referring to some ECE
outdoor spaces as having ‘plastic fantastic in the playground’ [Annette, IFG: 177] or ‘plastic
playgrounds’ [Lynley, IFG: 554–555]. One participant pointed out that the research sites
involved in The Ngahere Project were all community-based non-profit services and that this
was no coincidence. He suggested that ‘it’s clearly more costly to have grass or plants than astro
turf and plastic’ [Peter, IFG: 347–348]. This critique led teachers in their rhetoric and in their
practice to consider alternatives via education and supplementary/compensatory provision.
“There are reasons why they don’t have any land. But they have to have another option … we
can show them another option and show them the value of it.…” [Lynley: IFG, 357–359].
However, such investment priorities were not always shared. As one teacher explained, parents
need to see the value of nature-based learning if they are to support it in ECE settings:
And that’s been a major pressure in a sense, of the funding for buses, because
they, you know they think we’re funding all this money when it could be spent
on equipment here. [Debbie, FFG: 273–276]
Here, teachers draw the important conclusion that investment in nature-based learning
experiences is a community affair. The best interests of these Aotearoa New Zealand children
cannot be thought about without also thinking about the best interests of the environment and
those who occupy it (both in present and future generations). This view is consistent with
Pramling Samuelsson & Wagner (2012) who argue on behalf of OMEP (Organisation Mondiale
pour L’Education Préscolaire—World Organisation for Early Childhood Education) that
investments in early childhood development, education and care (ECDEC) lag
far behind investments in other endeavours, including many with far less
potential to contribute to the overall health of the planet and its people. (p. 342)
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Given the teachers’ agendas towards outdoor spaces it is unsurprising that data portrayed a
strong relationship between the role of place, teaching and learning broadly, and nature and
sustainability specifically. In the initial focus group discussion, six explicit references were
made to ‘place’, while in the final focus group there were thirteen. The outdoor settings in this
research were seen as ideal sites for supporting children’s affective and social learning (as
opposed to a singular focus on cognitive learning). Children were seen to be stimulated in these
settings where they had sensory access to the sights and sounds of nature.
41
Excerpts from Learning Story written by teachers at Papamoa Kindergarten
Cathie told me that you saw some moss at Brann’s Farm. We were amazed to also find some bright
green moss at our kindergarten. I said “I wonder why the moss grows on our trees?” You said “I
think they are magical trees”.
Photographs of Phil exploring the magical trees
Whilst ‘magical thinking’ does not appear in Te Whāriki, it did appear in the draft version
(Ministry of Education, 1993). In this, and other scenarios in their research data, teachers at this
kindergarten were seen to be encouraging working theories related to magical thinking
alongside scientific knowledge despite Hedges (2003) call to avoid “magical thinking” in favour
of science knowledge.
In their video diaries, reflections, stimulated recall interviews and Learning Stories, teachers
often focussed on “the felt or embodied qualities of the experience[s]” (Wattchow & Brown,
2011, p. 47). Excerpts from Paengaroa Kindergarten data show children’s varying embodied
experiences as they responded to spaces which became places based on lived experiences there.
The special place—the hill in the redwood forest at Brann’s Farm—evoked different responses
from several children in the same group.
G was right into that, she loved it, just really, let’s relax, and let’s look, and she
was really interesting too, you know she loved laying there and she made lots of
comments about, like the roof [forest canopy] and the leaves and the tree, the
top of the trees … and M was there with her mum. She found that really
difficult to do, to actually just lay there, but she was quite happy to go hug the
trees and do that sort of thing … A just got to a whole different level of fun
when he started rolling down the hill, and look it was like dominos, all these
children started rolling down the hill, lots of them rolling and running.
[Paengaroa Kindergarten, staff meeting notes, 3 June]
Notions of ‘place-based’ or ‘place-responsive’ education also featured in the informal and
audio-taped dialogue at the evaluation phase meeting. Teachers noted the importance of place-
based relationships, drawing on the socio-cultural notion of ‘relationships with people, places
and things’ found in Te Whāriki. When talking about Brann’s Farm, one teacher identified
particular features that children related to through their embodied encounters with them:
This is the climbing tree and the tree we can swing on, and here’s the muddy
place and this is the bank we scramble down, and, and, that has been passed on.
So it’s not just about relationships within, just between the teachers or with the
children, but also with the place. [Cathie, FFG: 11–14]
At Pukemokemoke too, children’s knowing of the land and its features related to their lived,
embodied experiences with place—the storytelling tree, the summit, the stepping stone, the troll
bridge and the monster’s tree (pictured below). This identification is consistent with ‘the
42
octopus tree’, ‘the trampoline tree’ and ‘the swamp monster’ discussed by Waller (2006; 2007)
and the metaphorical ‘resting tree’ noted by White (2009). As their familiarity with places
increased through engagement with children’s personifications and other forms of magical,
creative thinking, teachers became more place-responsive themselves.
Photograph sourced from The Monster’s tree Learning Story written by teachers at Campus Creche Preschool
Another teacher drew on notions of family and community—one of the four principles of Te
Whāriki—in her discussion of place. She suggested that place-based relationships led to a sense
of ownership; that children could feel this belonging based on locality and its location to them.
Like teachers, children’s and their families’ familiarity with places can enhance their attachment
and possibility of shared learning.
When it’s in your own place and it’s place-based the children have a greater
ownership of it because it’s supported by whānau [family] and it’s supported by
the surroundings that they live in, so when you go out into the community and
do things, in the local community … in the local area, it can be very
empowering for children because they might, may or may not, but usually have
some prior knowledge, some prior dispositions, some prior values and beliefs
around it. So they can act on it a lot more, and they feel a lot more confident,
because they are able to share what they know and they are able to pass on the
stories from families and from history, so they already have that attachment to
that area. [Julie D, FFG: 22–30]
In keeping with earlier suggestions, teachers at the final focus group also noted that these nature
settings were ‘special places’ that children had visited with their teachers and peers and could
take their families/whānau back to [Julie D, FFG: 26–30; Gill, FFG: 308–313]. Along with a
sense of belonging, teachers at Paengaroa Kindergarten noted the importance of attachment to
particular places or features of the environment, emanating from children’s secure relationships
with teachers. In their discussions they identified that children initially attach themselves to
teachers, staying close by them, on visits to Brann’s Farm or Suttons. However, over time as
they become more familiar with the environment, they confidently explore further afield.
Teachers saw children’s secure bond with them being responsible for this confidence and
discussed a number of children as examples of these notions [Paengaroa Kindergarten staff
meetings, transcripts and reflections]. These observations summon the child’s questions—Do
you know me? Do you hear me? And am I safe here? as discussed by Carr et al., (2002).
Teachers were strong advocates for the notion that repeated visits to one location foster place-
responsiveness in children, a point also explored by Wattchow & Brown (2011, p. 104).
Teachers and children were working and learning in a variety of ways that responded to the
peculiarities of the places they cared. They were attempting to create attachments with the land:
their ECE environments, Mauao Base Track, Pukemokemoke, Brann’s Farm, Summerhill Farm,
and the university campus in Hamilton (see 2.5.1–2.5.8 for descriptions). The physical features
of the land appeared to hold significance for their teaching and learning, and repetitive sustained
visits were seen as important, as one teacher explained:
I think for us it’s been mainly about building relationships with place, and the
children have knowledge about different areas. [Cathie, FFG: 10–11]
43
One teacher advanced the view that children could have a more sophisticated relationship with
nature than was accessible to them ‘within the centre gate’. Citing Frog boy, a well-coordinated
physical child whom teachers described as having limited oral language, his teacher suggested
that he had “blossomed” in the bush as there are many opportunities there for him to achieve,
and to be a leader, based on his physical prowess. Teachers were surprised to see a completely
different side of him on weekly visits to Pukemokemoke, suggesting that he excelled in the
outdoors: “Back in the centre, the curriculum is fairly mundane for him, whereas in the forest he
has all these opportunities” [Lynley, Campus Creche Preschool, Video diary, 06.07].
The depth of relationship, and sense of ownership, children can have with familiar environments
was brought to mind during the research process in relation to the Rena maritime disaster that
occurred towards the end of this study. Children from Papamoa, Paengaroa and Maungaarangi
kindergartens were affected by this tragedy and its aftermath in their ‘backyards’. In many
instances children’s, and teachers’, families and friends were involved in the clean-up including
bird rescue efforts. The tragedy became a site for their learning based on some children’s
intimate knowledge of the beach, the sea and sea-life that surrounded their setting (for further
discussion see 5.3).
UPS.-=T89;.DF8C:@59.=9:.EF5.BC=95E..
A motivating feature for outdoor provision lay in teachers’ concern to promote healthy
alternatives to the status quo which they saw as unacceptable for young children. One
participant noted
We all know of examples where children are spending between 30, 40 and even
50 hours a week in tiny patches of astro-turfed areas and yeah we actually want
to do something about that. [Kathryn, IFG: 253-255]
A rationale for outdoor experiences as more healthy for children was shared by other
participants. Parent information offered to families/whānau of children attending the Ngahere
Explorers excursions at Campus Creche Preschool included reference to “alarming childhood
statistics in New Zealand in the 21st century including many children with behavioural as well
as social skill problems and obesity concerns” (Campus Creche, 2010). This belief was shared
by several participants, who suggested that this research project had a role to play in changing
attitudes and types of provision,
We can start shifting the minds of other teachers who are perhaps [saying] what
do we do? How do we go about these things? And then they’ll influence the
centre that they’re in whether it be astro-turf or grass. [Tim, IFG: 385–387]
Alongside their mission of saving children from ill-health and obesity, saving the planet was
also identified as a motivation for outdoor education and related ECEfS. Consistent with the
claims of environmentalist Orr (2005), one teacher stressed the transformative potential of
education in addressing a global crisis:
The globe is starting to identify its crisis so how are we going to shift this and,
as educationalists, we know that education is one way we can do this. [Marion,
IFG: 246–248]
Several teachers saw children as playing important roles in such transformation. There were
anecdotal reports about children taking family members to specific nature contexts that they
visited with peers and teachers as part of their ECE experience, places such as Pukemokemoke,
Brann’s Farm and Mauao. One teacher described children as role models and teachers of their
families/whānau and wider society.
I see by children taking their families there, the families will develop a bit of a
love in their old age so we will become a community of people that want to
preserve these places so that you are getting that total community involvement.
[Annette, IFG: 205–208]
44
However, there appeared to be little recognition of the families’/whānau funds of knowledge
that may have included engaging with nature and sustainable living. The connection with these
is likely to be realised by further mediation of the child’s experiences between home and the
ECE setting (Moll, Amanti, Neff, & Gonzales, 1992) and a broadened approach to sustainbility
that does not rely solely on centre priorities alone (as was the case during the Rena disaster).
Throughout this discussion a strong political thrust was evident. Eight of the fourteen
participants suggested, in various ways, that the teachers’ role is to shift the thinking and actions
of others [IFG—various]. One participant labelled it ‘social engineering’ arguing its legitimacy
based on existing social values and broader policy directions [Peter, IFG: 887]. This
phenomenon is discussed by Dryzek (2005) who suggests that forms of coercion have the
potential to be limiting, if promoted outside of a relationship with nature. It was interesting,
therefore, to note a shift away from this orientation in the final focus group where teachers
turned their attention onto themselves; their responsibilities and pedagogy in progressing the
sustainability agenda (see 5.2).
UPU.)8775@89;.@5<B?9<5<.7@?A.DF8C:@59\.7=A8C85<.=9:.E5=DF5@<..
Waite (2011) makes the claim that while children’s rights and human rights are universal, not
all children, or adults, respond to place in the same way. This was true for the participants in
this study, according to the teachers. It may account, to some extent, for the diverse range of
approaches to nature-based experiences across settings. For teachers, children’s responses to
learning ‘beyond the gate’ often appeared to be related to the strength of particular dispositions
they possessed, for example resilience (Claxton & Carr, 2004); or their sense of agency, and
their familiarity with particular places. The extent to which teachers were able to recognise
children’s priorities in the outdoors, and respond appropriately, varied according to their ability
to ‘see’ what children were interested in, and the working theories they were exploring (we
return to this point in the next chapter). For example, a cultural difference in encountering
nature was identified by the translator employed part-time at Papamoa Kindergarten. She
supported teachers to see, and hear, how a specific group of children coped with features of
Brann’s Farm, namely bridges and water. One teacher described how some children responded,
emphasising their agency in the process:
Punjabi children, they’ll quite often have a wee prayer before they cross the
bridge so that that makes them safe, and that’s just something that they just do
innately and something they need to do and sometimes those environments are
certainly new to them in lots of different ways and so that they adjust to the
environment and know what keeps them, makes them feel good and safe and
that’s fine too. You know what you need to do. [Julie S, FFG, 186–190]
Not all parents or families/whānau shared the same high degree of support for nature-based
learning. A teacher from the only rural setting in the project reported tensions between what
teachers valued in terms of nature-based education and parental expectations:
We’re in a rural community so we have children that are used to being in nature
a lot, and they send them to us to ‘learn.’ I put that in inverted commas, and
they don’t see the adventure, the nature education as that learning experience
that they send them to us for, when they can get it from within their home
environment. [Debbie, FFG: 270–273].
Teachers also experienced nature-based curriculum experiences differently, seemingly related to
their early experiences or socio-cultural backgrounds. Many teachers who actively engaged in
the research identified that nature was an integral part of their growing up and were nostalgic
about it. They believed in children’s right to experience nature regularly as they did in
childhood
We’ve all drawn on our own experiences as children to express what we are
doing with children currently in our early childhood centres today and I think
that that is a really strong point for families and community and society today in
45
valuing that that’s childhood, and that nature is hand in hand with childhood
experiences. [Julie D, IFG: 363–367]
And another teacher noted in a reflection:
It has always been a degree of nostalgia for me because more often than not our
fondest memories of childhood are often in the context of being outside and
exploring nature. [Debbie, Paengaroa Kindergarten, Reflective diary, 03.06]
However, not everyone felt the same. Colleagues did not always share this nostalgic view or
commitment in relation to nature and play:
we do have quite a few teachers from other cultures [working in our centre] and
you know, playing in mud, jumping over rocks, walking barefoot all summer, is
just not something that they’ve been brought up in. [Lynley, FFG: 420–423]
Clearly, not everyone shared a passion for nature-based education as some of these quotes
suggest. This diversity of responses challenges the notion expressed in the initial dialogue that,
“everybody has an affinity with the land—settlers, tangata whenua, [and] the curriculum”
[Lynley, IFG: 544–545]. Rather than universalising people’s relationship, or affinity, with the
land, Wattchow and Brown (2011) suggest that place and how individuals experience it is
complex:
Our experience of place is always a combination of a specific physical location,
our embodied encounter and the cultural ideas that influence the interpretations
we make of the experience. (p. 47)
Waite, Evans, and Rogers (2011) also remind us that whilst places with their “cultural
associations and functional features” offer learning opportunities, “they are not neutral spaces.”
They emphasise that “we need to reflect on what the adults and children will bring to that place
in terms of past experiences and social norms” (p. 62).
As discussed previously, teachers’ feelings towards the environment are fundamental to their
commitment (or otherwise) to nature-based education and education for sustainability. One
teacher expressed her current and future goal; a goal seemingly shared by the other teachers
present, as being to “grow that love of [nature] so we all want to care for it” [Debbie, FFG, 530].
This view is consistent with ‘building respectful relationships’ and ‘participating in
communities of action’ pedagogies related to early childhood education for sustainability
[ECEfS] according to Robinson & Vaealiki (2010, p. 178).
UPX.&F=E.=L?IE.<I<E=89=L8C8E6`.
Many of the teachers in this study wanted to support children to become sustainability
conscious now, and in the future. They identified one important path as being through an
appreciation of nature and, by inference, taking children into the outdoors on a regular basis.
This path relates to education in the environment and is one of three aspects of ECEfS discussed
by Davis (1998; 2010; see 2.4). One teacher suggested that:
Our children have so much stimulation. There’s the TV going at them all the
time, computers in the classroom, all of these fantastic things they do but they
don’t often take the time to just slow down and look at the environment.
[Lynley, IFG: 184–187]
Another teacher summed up the group’s general feeling when she suggested that teachers
should be promoting a loving relationship between children and nature—a concept some
referred to as biophilia (see Wilson, 1984; Kellert & Wilson, 1993)
Taking [children] to natural settings, allowing them to see things that they are in
awe of, and that they love. They will grow to understand why it is important
that we protect these things and then, in future days, they will be the engineers
of that too. [Cathie, IFG: 301–304]
46
In these discussions, teachers referred to education in the environment, in the present and the
future. They did not specifically refer to the remaining two tenets of ECEfS as noted by Davis
(1998; 2010)—that is, education about the environment and education for the environment.
However, much of that data generated in response to site research questions explicitly
foregrounded these approaches. For example, science-focussed learning that took place daily
within and beyond the setting, such as: engagement with aspects of water conservation;
gardening; making bird feeders; investigating moss, lichen and fungi; and discussions about
evergreen and deciduous trees, are all about the environment. Enviroschools kaupapa, keenly
practised by several research sites, is comprised of collaborative problem solving, taking action,
and indigenous ways of knowing (Eames et al., 2010). These approaches that are all aligned
with education for the environment. This approach can be seen in the following Learning Story
written by a teacher from Maungaarangi Kindergarten.
Keeping our stream clean – Kaitiakitanga Whaea Roxy 2 August 2011
We posed the question to our tamariki—Is our stream clean? Some children thought it was clean,
others thought it was dirty. What makes our river dirty? Some children thought the mud and sand
makes our river dirty. Somebody else said that things get washed into the river. Hmm, I wonder how
we can find out if our stream is clean or dirty.
We called our friend Mātua Kevin at Environment Bay of Plenty. He said he could help us. He
brought some special equipment to test the water with to see if it was clean or dirty. He took a sample
of the water with him and will run some tests on it to see how clean it is. He also took the
temperature of the water, and measured the oxygen level of the water. Mātua Kevin will call us next
week to tell us the results of the test and what this means. Why is it important to keep our stream
clean? Because this water flows out to the sea and we don’t want our sea getting dirty. We also need
to look after all water everywhere because it is one of our most precious resources. I wonder what we
can do to keep the water clean. Who can help us to look after our stream? I hope we can continue
this journey to keep our stream clean. I look forward to seeing what happens next.
*It is somewhat ironic that this discussion took place only two months before the Rena maritime disaster off the
nearby coast (5 October 2012) http://www.greenpeace.org/new-zealand/en/campaigns/climate-change/Rena-oil-spill/
This learning story and the values inherent in it connect with both ECEfS education for the
environment (Davis, 1998; 2009) and learning outcomes in Te Whāriki particularly in relation to
the goal of Exploration. Learning Outcomes in this domain include that children will develop
• a relationship with the natural environment and a knowledge of their own place in the
environment;
• respect and a developing sense of responsibility for the well-being of both the living and
the non-living environment; and
• working theories about the living world and knowledge of how to care for it. (Ministry
of Education, 1996, p. 90)
These connections—between sustainability, indigenous views of ecology and education
curriculum for children—suggest that teachers were also committed to the notion of education
with the environment, since the environment is regarded as a living entity by Māori as
articulated in the initial focus group by one teacher:
47
In Aotearoa New Zealand we’ve got Māori language and culture, tikanga Māori
that we can draw from. The iwi of the different areas, since coming here, have
established a relationship with nature and have already got that ecological
system in place where a self-sustaining system is in place … in the last 2–300
years, maybe more than that. But it’s shifted from being a sustainable
community to one that we’re not, so we don’t look at in the same way and so
when we put that stake—that Marion was saying—in the ground we are going
“this is enough”. We’ve based our philosophy, the way we work, our practices,
[at Maungaarangi] we can draw on indigenous sustainable practices from the
past that has worked. So yeah we can draw on that history, we can draw on
those stories, and we can draw on those legends that tell us how to be at one
with nature. [Henare, IFG: 459–470]
Such practice connects with ongoing work by Ritchie (2010; 2011), Ritchie & Rau (2008) and
Ritchie et al; (2010) who have written extensively on this topic. Similarly, in the current study
there was an enthusiastic view of sustainability and its location within nature-based education:
[T]he robust dialogue [we had had] around how we find solutions to navigate a
new pathway forward for our teachers and for our communities and … the
energy that this research project has brought to teams is really, really affirming,
that by engaging in research in this way is beneficial for all … from a
management perspective I want to find ways to enable that we get this
information out to others so that … those ‘green patches of quilting’ start to
connect together so that we get a broader, much broader commitment to some
of these concepts. [Marion, FFG: 519–526]
This reference to a ‘patchwork quilt’ metaphor is from Davis, Elliot, & Early Childhood
Australia (2003). In this conception, nature-based education was seen as a means of promoting
sustainable practices in, about, for, and with the environment so that others would see their
relevance. The emphasis in the dialogue signalled a clear shift from wanting to change the
thinking and actions of others towards individual and ECE setting accountability. The
challenges this posed for those who share in this commitment and the notion of biophilia that is
“the innate tendency to focus on life and lifelike processes” (Wilson, 1984, p. 1) were also
summoned within this discourse [Fiona, IFG: 706–708; Tim, IFG: 815–817]. We pick up this
theme in the chapter that follows.
UP[.-IAA=@6.
“There are places to love, let’s look after them, and how do we look after them?” [Cathie, FFG:
539–541]. In posing this question, teachers implicated themselves as guardians or kaitiaki of the
environment (Pere, 1991, 1998; See also Eames et al., 2010; O’Connor, 2011) both within and
beyond the ECE setting gate. In their provision and practice of nature-based education, teachers
sought to honour the curriculum, and give effect to the third aspect of ECEfS—education ‘for’
the environment (Davis, 2010; Davis, Elliott, & Early Childhood Australia, 2003). As
signatories to the Treaty of Waitangi with its explicit principle of protection, teachers located
this work through engagement with the living earth as a cornerstone of ethics, sustainability and
rights discourses. In doing so, they reconciled their obligations to sustainability through regular
nature-based experiences.
Yet, as the quote at the outset of this chapter suggested, “you don’t have to do it our way, you
don’t have to do it this way or this way, you can do it your own way and it will be your own”
[Tim, IFG: 750–752]. Teachers in each setting responded to their obligations in different ways.
Some discovered that the natural resources they provided within the ECE setting were equally
significant to their sustainability agenda as were their trips to the bush. Others recognised the
principal role of culture in the process. This is consistent with the vision of Te Whāriki, with its
broad non-prescriptive framework, that “acknowledges that the relationships and the
environments that children experience have a direct impact on their learning and development”
(Ministry of Education, 1996, p. 7).
48
Figure 3: Sustainable ECE provision: Interrelated documents, principles and concepts
This diversity of nature based education provision is consistent with the early childhood
curriculum:
[It] has been envisaged as a whāriki, or mat, woven from the principles, strands,
and goals … the whāriki concept recognises the diversity of ECE in Aotearoa
New Zealand. Different programmes, philosophies, structures, and
environments will contribute to the distinctive patterns of the whāriki. (Ministry
of Education, 1996, p. 11)
As this chapter has highlighted, nature-based learning looks different in diverse settings
dependent on a range of factors including: who teachers are and where they come from; how
they understand and implement their pedagogical obligations under Te Whāriki, the Treaty of
Waitangi, UNCROC, ECEfS and Enviroschools kaupapa (where applicable); the specific
physical locations they inhabit or visit, each with their own cultural associations, and functional
features; and what adults and children bring to those places in terms of past experiences,
dispositions, interests, attitudes, social norms, cultural ideas and interpretations.
However, the provision of nature-based education is not just about places and things. It is also
about people and pedagogy. Obviously, a range of challenges and provocations surrounding
effective engagement with nature existed previously, or surfaced for many of the teachers in this
study. Many teachers held firm beliefs about the value of experiences beyond the gate but had
not specifically examined their practice in relation to these objectives. In the chapter that
follows, we present the challenges and provocations that arose when these were examined in
terms of teacher pedagogy, and its impact on children’s learning in the outdoors—both of which
became central to the teachers’ agenda through the action research process.
Te!
Whāriki!
UNCROC!
Sustainability! ECEfS!
Ethics!!
Treaty!of!
Waitangi!
49
CHAPTER(5: PEDAGOGICAL(ISSUES(AND(
PROVOCATIONS(IN(NATURE(
Having explored the provision of nature-based ECE and its relationship to sustainability in the
previous chapter, the section that follows explores associated aspects of teacher practice. The
pedagogical provocations that arose in each setting are explored in light of the teachers’
identified commitment to five cornerstones of sustainable practice—Te Whāriki, the Treaty of
Waitangi, UNCROC, ECEfS, and Ethics alongside their own beliefs and contexts for learning.
We were interested to understand the kinds of challenges teachers experienced enacting
curriculum outdoors alongside a commitment to sustainability. Our inquiries were located
within the everyday realities of centre life as teachers worked towards their sustainability
agenda(s).The centrality of relationships in Te Whāriki presented an important place to examine
the experiences that took place beyond the gate between teachers and children; children and
peers; and the environment and children. We sought to understand how these relationships acted
as sites for learning and teaching, by exploring “connections between activities, people, places
and things” (Martin & Rose, 2007).
Therefore, our second overarching question asked: What are some of the pedagogical
issues and provocations teachers face in this domain?
Through this investigation we sought to identify shifts across the action research process
(evident in discussions across focus groups held during the reconnaissance and evaluation
stages [IFG and FFG]) and issues, problems or provocations that arose through the action
research process (Table 1 and Figure 2) in, across, and between sites. We conclude this section
by suggesting that pedagogies in the outdoors are a fuller representation of the tenets of Te
Whāriki rather than ‘new’ pedagogies.
XP^.G5:=;?;6.89.EF5.?IE:??@<.
Pedagogy is variously described as the “science” (Loughran, 2010) or “uncertain art” (White,
2011) of teaching and learning. Pedagogy is not referred to by name in Te Whāriki but, in the
English version particularly, orients towards constructivist, pragmatist and sociocultural
approaches to learning as a basis for ECE practice. These approaches privilege transformative
approaches to education, with an emphasis on discovery through experience—a central tenet of
experiential learning discussed earlier. Yet within Te Whāriki (especially the Te Reo Māori
version) status is also given to the mystery, wonder and unknowability of the learner (White &
Mika, (in press). In the recently developed national curriculum Belonging, being & becoming:
Early Years Learning Framework for Australia, ‘pedagogy’ has been defined as: “early
childhood educators’ professional practice, especially those aspects that involve building and
nurturing relationships, curriculum decision-making, teaching and learning” (Australian
Government Department of Education, Employment and Workplace, 2009, pp. 9 & 46). Seen in
this light it might also be appropriate to describe pedagogy as a process of making decisions
about what to do and how to do it.
Teachers in this study took their pedagogical responsibilities seriously. Aotearoa New Zealand
ECE settings are clearly situated within a teaching and learning framework which foregrounds
pedagogies based on principles of Family and Community, Empowerment, Holistic
development, and Relationships; and the strands of Exploration, Communication, Well-being,
Belonging and Contribution. Te Whāriki states, “The direction and speed of learning and
growing will often fluctuate from day to day, according to where the child is and the people
they are with” (Ministry of Education, 1996, p. 21). Teachers held differing views on the role
that they could or should (or should not) play in nature settings with these principles in mind.
While most teachers were able to articulate a philosophy of teaching that was consistent with
50
their practice in the outdoors, there were significant challenges for them in reconciling these
ideals within everyday practice. It was clear that each setting, and each teacher within that
setting, had to work out their priorities based on the context, the child and the provocations that
both offered in the outdoors, moment-by-moment. When these priorities were shared by others,
teachers felt more able to achieve their sustainability goals:
With our teaching team it’s been made a lot easier, I think, with all of us
supporting the same kaupapa … as long as they’ve got two people in your
centre with an interest or passion for nature it makes it a lot easier for that to
grow in the centre. [Henare, IFG: 923–927]
Environments play a vital role in relationships with people, places and things (Kelly & Jurisich,
2010) which lie at the heart of learning through the ECE curriculum. However, it is important to
note that Te Whāriki is a framework and not a prescriptive document. Teachers are charged with
responsibility for bringing the curriculum principles and strands to life in their practice. This is
true for any educational setting in New Zealand and the related sites in which learning takes
place. It means that teachers need to draw on their expert knowledge of the individual child,
child development, the curriculum, the regulatory environment and the natural environment
simultaneously, to uphold their pedagogical obligations. There is no ‘recipe’ beyond the values
and principles that underpin teachers’ practice, and the extent to which these represent ethical
choice versus dogma, for all involved.
A number of pedagogies are identified in the literature related to education and education in
nature environments: ‘Māori pedagogies’ (Hemara, 2000), ‘play-based and playful pedagogies’,
‘alternative pedagogies’ ‘stimulating contingent pedagogies’ (see Waite, 2011), ‘the pedagogic
garden’ (Harding, 2005), and ‘a relational pedagogy’ (Brownlee & Berthelson, 2006; Fraser et
al., 2007: see also Rule, 2012). In specific literature related to education for sustainability we
find ‘place-based’ or ‘place-responsive pedagogy' (Everett et al., 2009; Wattchow & Brown,
2011); ‘pedagogies of ECEfS’, ‘emerging pedagogies’ and ‘new or reinvigorated pedagogies’
(Robinson & Vaealiki, 2010). Meanwhile teachers, management and researchers before, during
and (as a result of their reading) after the research processes found synergy with pedagogies that
prioritised relationships with other (nature and child). These include ‘a pedagogy of listening’
(Rinaldi, 2001, 2006; Sandvik, 2009), ‘a pedagogy of listening and seeing’ and ‘a pedagogy of
risk and opportunity’ (Kelly & White, 2012), ‘dialogic pedagogy’ (Hardy, 2006; White & Peters,
2011), and critical pedagogy (Giroux, 1988). Teachers came to realise that all of these
pedagogies can be found in a richer theorisation of Te Whāriki that was provoked through a
focus on teaching and learning possibilities in nature-based settings where sustainability is
being enacted.
XPQ.!.B=@=:8;A.<F87E`.
During the initial focus group (IFG), it was evident that teachers held diverse views about their
pedagogical roles in the outdoors. A senior teacher explained that, “those are really big
challenges for us because there’s a range of understanding or expectations about what that might
look like” [Marion, FFG: 335–336]. From the research outset, one of the major challenges
teachers presented was in their conceptualisation of pedagogies in the outdoors and their
relationship to the early childhood curriculum. Questions about the extent to which nature-based
education represented a paradigm shift were raised early in the discussion. Some participants
(consistent with Wattchow & Brown, 2011; and some contributors to Waite, 2011) proposed
that pedagogies in the outdoors differed to those within the ECE setting gate. They suggested a
shift in mind-set was required akin to the “new or reinvigorated pedagogies” discussed by
Robinson & Vaealiki (2010, p. 178). Others viewed pedagogies in these contexts as a deeper
and richer fulfilment of the goals of Te Whāriki and associated practices already known to
teachers:
If we’re talking about teachers who are responsive and teaching to Te Whāriki,
then they need to be able to make sure children can explore different interesting
areas to them and, if we have an ECE centre that doesn’t have natural areas for
the child, then we need to think about the reasons for that. [Amy, IFG: 61–65]
51
Still others perceived the use of nature-based pedagogies as “going back to what we used to
value” [Julie D, IFG: 587] and “back as part of that connectedness with nature” [Debbie, IFG:
592–593].
By the final focus group, however, there was agreement that nature-based pedagogies were
totally aligned to the “innovative open-ended early childhood curriculum” [Amy, IFG: 532].
Another teacher suggested that nature-based pedagogies and the curriculum were reconciled due
to the natural alignment between sustainable principles, the curriculum and indigenous
approaches to land. In this way, they described their pedagogy as “more of a context shift
because we’re still working with Te Wh
ā
riki” [Peter, IFG: 573–574]. As one teacher explained
“It [nature-based education] supports our beautiful curriculum” [Cathie, IFG: 798]. Nature-
based education provided additional avenues for teachers to deepen their understanding of Te
Whāriki and its relationship to a Māori worldview, theories of learning and children’s rights
discourse. This finding supports Knight’s (2009) view that
The listening-and-observing approach exemplified by Reggio Emilia and Te
Whāriki demonstrates a difference in paradigms … many theorists and
practitioners in the early years sector are embracing the paradigm shift from
starting with a curriculum to starting with a child’s interests and concerns. (p.
67)
XPO.,F5.@?C5.?7.EF5.E5=DF5@.
While teachers agreed that nature-based education did not represent a paradigm shift for them,
they identified many issues and provocations in their teaching practice as a result of the research.
The extent to which practices altered in outdoor experiences focussed around teachers’ views of
the outdoors, and the extent to which they needed to intervene, or step back, as a result. These
shifts were signalled early in the research process:
It’s something that’s evolving and I think like … if the teacher stands back and
is there for the interaction compared with the interaction of us always going in
there and questioning the children and perhaps over-questioning. Where do we
draw the line of actually standing back instead of going in there to take it further?
I think that’s something we have to be aware of in terms of our roles, that they
could change, evolve, through this [research] process. [Debbie, IFG: 164–170]
Much of the teachers’ deliberations were focussed around how they saw their role in relation to
their pedagogical responsibilities. For instance, the extent to which teachers felt they could
‘stand back’ and support outdoor experiential learning without intervening was dependent on
the extent to which they saw they could uphold children’s safety and, thus, accept learning as
uncertain, fluid and unpredictable. Other teachers’ levels of intervention were determined by
their beliefs about liberating others towards sustainability goals. One teacher described her role
as “putting a stake in the ground and saying ‘these are important issues for societies to be
educated about’” (Marion, IFG: 233–235)—a belief that she and her colleagues actively
promoted through their teaching practice in the outdoors. These deliberations are connected
with adult responsibilities in management, organisation, and practice spelled out in Te Whāriki,
“Adults need to know how to support and extend children’s play without interrupting or
dominating the activity and should avoid unnecessary intervention” (Ministry of Education,
1996, p. 83).
Hence, according to their beliefs, teachers’ pedagogical roles in the outdoors could be expressed
as a continuum bounded by passive teaching strategies at one end and active teaching strategies
at the other. Figure 4 presents some of these teaching strategies on a continuum of passive or
active intervention, based on the teachers’ descriptions of their roles in nature settings. These
roles are explored in the sections that follow.
52
Figure 4: A continuum of pedagogical roles in nature-based ECE
Passive…………………………………………………………………………………………..Active
Exposing nature (provision of experiences)……..……Examining nature (co-construction of learning
within experiences)
Undirected exploration and engagement……......…………………………….Transmitting knowledge
Intentionally standing back …………………………………….......………….Intentionally moving in
Modelling engagement with nature………………………………………………….....Problem posing
Observing…...........………………………………….Mediating, instructing, intervening, transmitting
Silent or embodied dialogues…………………...……………………………………Verbal dialogue
The research also revealed a range of associated factors that impacted on the type of pedagogies
used. Many of these active pedagogical roles are identified by McNaughton and Williams (2009)
as ‘community building’ strategies. Issues such as: teachers’ knowledge of (and familiarity with)
the environment and the children; teachers working individually, and/or collectively as a team;
and their interpretations of the curriculum; all significantly influenced their choice of teaching
strategies. These findings support the views of Moss and Petrie (2002) that no pedagogy is ever
value free or neutral. Nor does pedagogy occur without careful consideration of the child as
partner in the process (White, 2009). What seemed unique to these Aotearoa New Zealand
nature-based contexts was that the environment was a central, living, aspect of the curriculum,
offering challenges and opportunities to teachers and children alike. As Waite, Evans, & Rogers
(2011) state “the mutual influence of place, child and others offers a powerful mediation arena
for innovative pedagogical approaches” (p. 62). Some of these approaches were previously
known to teachers while others were discovered, re-discovered or re-conceptualised through the
action research process.
XPS.G@=DE8D5<.=778@A5:.
The research process confirmed a number of the pedagogical strategies teachers were already
using in the outdoors. These focussed mainly on familiar pedagogical approaches associated
with sustainability agendas for children based on Enviroschools (Eames et al., 2010) and
kaupapa Māori perspectives (Ka’ai & Higgins, 2004; Colbung et al., 2007). For example the
research question at Maungaarangi Kindergarten focussed specifically on what local tikanga
Māori could teach them about engaging with nature. As alluded to in the previous chapter, five
pou or core principles are at the heart this kindergarten’s pedagogy—including their philosophy,
planning and assessment. Seven local pūrākau exemplify the morals and values related to these
pou or principles such as manaakitanga, or caring for ourselves, each other and the environment,
fundamental to their curriculum, along with aroha, whānaungatanga and wairuatanga, or love,
kinship and spiritual connectedness (Ka’ai & Higgins, 2004). These values were enacted
through repeated telling of the pūrākau, followed by modelling, encouragement and praise by
teachers when children applied this knowledge to real life contexts or in play.
Significant events in the Māori calendar, for example Matariki, the Māori New Year, were also
prioritised and celebrated. Teachers worked with children and families/whānau to harvest
53
vegetables from their garden—a traditional practice at this time of year. Having a special feast
for families/whānau further reinforced connections between children’s cultural and horticultural
knowledge and principles of sustainability. Valued learning was identified in their assessment
documentation which took the form of ‘Learning Stories’ (Carr, 2001; Carr & Lee, 2012).
Teachers believed this kaupapa would become embedded in children’s everyday experience at
play through this promotion. They actively ‘taught’ (transmitted) Māori knowledge through
consistently and deliberately making connections to kaitiakitanga and manaakitanga, protecting
and caring for the natural environment. In this way they saw that children would come to fully
appreciate these values.
Parents too came to recognise and appreciate the valuable real-life learning based on Te Ao
Māori or a Māori world view (Ka’ai & Higgins, 2004) visible throughout the kindergarten
curriculum ‘experiences, activities and events’. One teacher explained how the children’s
response to the Rena disaster6 was borne out of their understandings of tikanga Māori and
related responses to tragedy. The following dialogue at the final focus group five weeks after
the Rena catastrophe conveys her belief that their pedagogical interventions, now conceived as a
form of problem posing, had led children to develop empathy for others and a desire to care for
them in times of tragedy and loss:
We spoke to the children about it and said ‘You know, what can we do to help?’
and the first thing they said was ‘kai’. And so they went home to their whānau
and said ‘we need kai for the Rena workers’ and before you knew it, the whole
kitchen was filled. And that's, you know, that's their language, that's what they
give. And I think, you know, the fact that we’ve concentrated on local Māori
myths and legends and things that whānau had knowledge of, it’s made the
learning more real to them [the families/whānau] and they can relate more to
what we’re doing’ [Fiona, FFG: 128–132]
Children’s responses to Rena maritime disaster—Maungaarangi Kindergarten documentation
XPU.-F87E<.89.B@=DE8D5.
While some of the teachers’ pedagogical priorities were consolidated across the research
process, they faced significant challenges and provocations during their experiences beyond the
gate. Many were associated with their personal (individual) and professional (team) philosophy
of teaching and learning, their ‘image’ of the child, and their developing capacity to see the
learning potential in everyday experiences from multiple perspectives. Approaching experiences
with a commitment to listening and seeing, enabled the teachers to learn more about themselves
and others, and to revisit their priorities for teaching and learning, as the examples discussed
here show. Consequently, some teachers recognised and reported shifts after in-depth scrutiny
of their own practice. In doing so they became more aware of the impact of their practice on
6 Worst environmental disaster in New Zealand maritime history. Cargo ship hit reef off coast of Tauranga on 5
October 2011 and began leaking oil, which was to have major impact on beaches and sea for months, and on shellfish
beds for years.
54
others, and the environment. From the research outset teachers identified that shifts may be
warranted.
We want teachers who support children through that process and who allow
them and actually encourage them to become advocates … how you can work
through some of those [many] issues and that pedagogical shifting of teaching
style. [Amy, IFG: 413–419]
9#D#$!a-3/(/.;!'.1!*)(-;./+/.;!&)'*./.;!
Specified outcomes for children in Aotearoa New Zealand early childhood education
contemporary discourse are typically located within the realm of dispositional theory (Carr,
2001). ‘Knowledge, skills and attitudes’ are conceptualised as dispositions. Working theories
are mentioned but unlike dispositions, they have only recently been the subject of an extensive
research project, namely the Teaching and Learning Research Initiative project Moments of
wonder, everyday events: Children’s working theories in action (Davis & Peters, 2011). Hedges
& Jones (2012) described working theories as “the neglected sibling of Te Whāriki’s learning
outcomes” (p. 34). In The Ngahere Project, a number of teachers sought to investigate specific
aspects of children’s learning in their site-specific research questions. While dispositions were
widely used across all research sites, working theories were not explicitly profiled, with the
exception of Papamoa Kindergarten.
The dispositions most keenly described by teachers across most research sites were those
associated with ‘taking an interest’, ‘taking responsibility’ and ‘sharing insights with others’.
These dispositions were often based on prior knowledge that enabled children to “share what
they know and they are able to pass on from the stories of families and their history, so they
already have that attachment to that area” [Julie D, FFG: 28–30]. This re-telling of stories from
home connects with families’ funds of knowledge (Moll et al., 1992). Teachers concluded that
they had little need to ‘educate’ children to care for the environment. Rather, they suggested that
when children were granted time and space to engage in the outdoors they already possessed
these dispositions.
Campus Creche Preschool trips to Pukemokemoke were characterised by pedagogy that actively
utilised pūrākau, as did Maungaarangi Kindergarten, focussed on care for each other and the
environment. Here teachers were intentional in their teaching which was targeted towards the
explicit learning outcomes of the Ngahere Explorers programme and what was valued in the
bush setting (Campus Creche, 2010). These teachers confronted children with physical
challenges such as crossing streams, climbing the hill (and sliding down again), and tramping to
the mountain summit with a view to strengthening their resilience—a key disposition they
associated with engagement with nature.
Photographs sourced from Learning Stories written by teachers at Campus Creche Preschool
Initially the teachers were more likely to see behaviours and traits rather than, as their research
question identified, children’s dispositions—skills, knowledge and attitudes to learning. These
were more difficult for teachers to recognise based on their initial understandings, for example,
55
that “Children will gain positive dispositions and attitudes for investigating interests….”
(Campus Creche, 2010). These teachers questioned whether they knew enough about
dispositions and about what they were really looking for? We note that following the research
project they embarked on whole-centre professional development around assessment and
dispositional learning. The idea that children will develop dispositions from nature-based
experiences, and this questioning, coupled with earlier suggestions by other teachers that
children already possessed certain dispositions, are noteworthy. They are indicative of the
variable understandings ECE teachers have of dispositions generally. It was useful for us to
return to Claxton & Carr (2004) who offer helpful advice that teachers should look at
dispositions as verbs with qualifying adverbs, rather than nouns or “things to be acquired”. They
argue that “One does not ‘acquire a disposition’, one ‘becomes more or less disposed’ to
respond in such-and-such a way”. They suggest that instead teachers should be “charting their
potential or possible direction of growth [as this will provide] some guidance about what we do
that strengthens or weakens them” (p. 88). Hence, teachers saw that children from the Ngahere
Explorers engaged in dispositions more or less “frequently, or appropriately, or skilfully” (p. 89)
and that the strength of these tendencies changed over time through the nature-based
programme they created within and beyond the gate.
Further analysis of Campus Creche Preschool Learning Stories (research data) revealed the
primacy they gave to resilience and two other key dispositions: imagination via storytelling, and
reciprocity seen in the “shared responsibility, communicating ideas and valuing being and
becoming a group member” (Carr et al., 2009, p. 24). Through the research process these
teachers identified dispositions in the outdoor environment that they had not recognised within
their centre setting. They also realised the limitations they had previously placed on children
who revealed themselves differently in the outdoor environment. Teachers were challenged by
their own role in the complex task of noticing learning. They also realised the importance of
upholding a shared approach across the teaching—even with those who did not share in the
outdoor experience:
We may not even have noticed it … and it may appear on our bit of paper that
we’ve written down that this child has not made any [progress] but actually
they’ve internalised something amazing. And unless we ask the right questions
or listen carefully enough, we’re not going to know … we really need to pose
those questions and listen. [Lynley, FFG: 44–47]
In a traditional educational sense, many learning outcomes throughout the research could be
seen as less than tangible because they often related to affective rather than cognitive learning.
Outcomes for children were conveyed in “the joy, awe and wonder in faces” [Marion, IFG: 875];
evidence of children’s “connectedness with nature” [Debbie, IFG: 592–593]; as “another
alternative to relaxation” [Lynley, IFG: 192–193]; an opportunity to claim “the luxury of time to
enjoy the place we’re at” [Julie S, FFG:493–494 ] and engage in an “almost spiritual” [Lynley,
IFG: 189] experience with no objective in mind that one teacher described as “being at one with
nature” [Henare, IFG,470]. The outdoor setting, it seemed, offered a hiatus in the busy-ness of
life and gave children—and teachers—an opportunity to pause. As one teacher explained
“there’s huge personal learning in silence” [Kathryn: IFG: 322–323]. Teachers often described
the related outcome as a kind of biophilia, or love of nature, arguing that this could only be
achieved when adults shared in this sense of wonder:
Starting with knowledge, you have to gain the knowledge, then you develop
your values, you gain respect pertaining to what you are interested in and then
with those three things you are able to instil the biophilia, the love of life, into
the children you work with. [Tim, FFG: 816–819]
These are the ‘soft’ skills or hard to evaluate outcomes of nature-based education that Knight
(n.d.a) reported grappling with as she sought to show the lasting benefits of Forest School
(kindergarten) on children at primary school. That is not to say that there are not sound
educational benefits to be realised from Forest School and related nature-based education; rather
that the search goes on for a measure of outcomes or impact, that is acceptable to policy makers
and others oriented to discrete academic or cognitive skills.
56
9#D#"!`!,)1';-;>!-6!-,,-*32./3>!0)*+2+!*/+A!
Consistent with the international literature on risk in outdoor ECE (Ball, Gill, & Spiegal, 2009;
see also Cameron, 2005; Huggins & Wickett, 2011; Sandseter, 2009, 2010; Stephenson, 2003;
Tovey, 2007; Waite, 2011), the teachers in this study were frequently confronted by their
response to safety as an important component of their pedagogy in experiences beyond the gate.
The special places they visited: local neighbourhoods, Brann’s Farm, Mauao Base Track,
Summerhill Farm and the university campus were outdoor environments full of opportunity—
but also full of risk. Teachers were challenged to see children as competent and capable (an
aspiration of Te Whāriki) while not losing sight of their vulnerability (and in response to ECE
regulatory accountabilities). This tension was magnified at Campus Creche Teenies in their
work with toddlers beyond the gate. Teachers sought to understand this dualism by exploring
the professional judgments they made during regular outings to the university campus.
In recognising this tension they bridged a complex pedagogical space that they came to see as
‘an opportunity space’ for teachers and children alike, a concept explored by Dysthe (2011).
Teachers shared legitimate concerns regarding their response to the ECE Regulations (Ministry
of Education, 2009) and the capacity for toddlers to be safe in unknown landscapes that were
not designed for children of this age. Their weekly video diaries revealed a range of complex
issues each teacher faced on their encounters beyond the gate. These included the extent to
which teachers were familiar with each child and their capabilities or preferences, teachers’
capacity to tolerate surprise and uncertainty, the trust that teachers placed in one another to
“watch my back” and, above all, an ability to advocate for the rights of toddlers to explore the
wider world. Such advocacy was seen in instances such as supporting a toddler to linger in a
puddle on a rainy day as one teacher described:
At the time it was cold and wet but I could see that he was really enjoying the
experience. It was a good teaching moment because I could see he was going
from one end of the puddle to the other and there wasn’t a lot of water. I was
like, ‘well, what does it feel like’. And we were exploring things like ‘Oh it’s
quite sticky’. As the water was slowly creeping up his legs, it was great time to
compare level of splashes as the water disappeared. He was lovin’ it. [Mel,
Campus Creche Teenies, Video diary, 12.06]
Teachers’ advocacy on behalf of children could also be seen during outings when they reminded
other adults to view toddlers as people rather than ‘cute’ objects for adult entertainment such as
when university students and staff stopped to engage with and comment on the toddlers within
the university grounds [Campus Creche Teenies, Video diaries—various].
Aspects of intervention or non-intervention during outings were associated with size and
movement in situations such as crossing the road and determining whose hand would need to be
held at any particular moment. In all cases teachers juggled time with space—making decisions
to linger in places that attracted the toddlers’ attention rather than emphasising the destination
whilst maintaining rosters and timetables. As one teacher explained “Actually it’s the process
rather than the destination with these young children” [Amy, Campus Creche Teenies, Video
diary, 24.07]. Through their reflections, teachers came to recognise that the distinction between
risk and opportunity was largely determined by: their own attitudes about the environment,
toddlers’ developmental capabilities, and trust of each member of the team. This became central
to their pedagogy and led them to interpret the rules (regulations) in a manner that responded to
them creatively and did not limit opportunities. What constituted risk—for whom, by whom—
became an important aspect of their practice. For example, one teacher described her anxieties
when toddlers ventured close to the duck pond on the university campus:
In a semi-selfish sort of way I really didn’t want to jump in the water! I was
prepared to pull her back in time so that I didn’t get wet. [Mel, Campus Creche
Teenies, Video diary, 12.06]
The centrality of trust, one of the seven principles of Forest Kindergarten according to Knight
(2009; see 2.2.2), was also an important component of pedagogy for teachers involved in
Campus Creche Preschool’s Ngahere Explorers programme. Unlike other settings involved in
57
the research, not all Preschool staff participated in the nature-based learning at Pukemokemoke.
Only two out of six teachers took part in the data generation phase of the research. This was
because their specific programme only required two teachers to accompany seven children on
their weekly excursions to Pukemokemoke and the teachers who regularly led these trips were
those who were passionate about nature-based education, the bush and this research.
In this setting, and at Paengaroa Kindergarten, several teachers saw specific skills being
necessary for teachers to achieve the educational aspirations they had for outdoor learning (akin
to trained staff criteria discussed by Knight, 2009). In several reflections, one teacher
highlighted her extensive bushcraft knowledge and the necessity of safety issues in the ‘wild’.
In one entry, she reflected that the day was calm and risk-free except for the children who were
inappropriately clothed for the cold and wet day (also akin to Forest School criteria—see 2.2.2).
She identified that there were things she might do differently, recording that “when a teacher is
focused on a learning experience they can become inadvertently unfocussed on the total
environment”. She noticed a “near hypothermic child” [Unnamed, Paengaroa Kindergarten,
Reflective diary, 17.06] another teacher had failed to notice, suggesting that “more than one set
of eyes keeps the children safe”. This perceived tension between education and care may have
related to a practice where teachers (and parent helpers) leading or following small groups of
children split off from the main group. Issues such as this required ongoing dialogue and
common understandings among teachers about group supervision. Such dialogue was critical to
teachers’ pedagogy as they negotiated their way through difficult and challenging encounters in
the outdoors.
In teachers’ reflections, the importance of communication, knowing the environment and the
approach (and associated attitude) of each member of the team during outdoor experiences was
reiterated. At the end of the research process, one teacher noted:
You don’t always reach a consensus but we’ve learnt a lot about working with
each other and how to manage working with each other. Because we don’t
always go out with the same people either, so if you know that you’re going out
there with a teacher who, you know, has identified, say health and safety or
hazards as something that is very important in her belief around nature
education, then we support that. We’re aware of that and we support that with
other aspects of teachers’ values and beliefs that come through that we need to
know, we have to know, and then we trust each other to support each other.
[Julie D, FFG: 230–237]
Meanwhile, a senior teacher reminded us all of the ongoing challenges in the provision of
nature-based education:
We have debates around challenges around how we support teachers in regard
to their pedagogy, their understanding. Equipping them for being teachers, for
being facilitators in that nature-based environment, and acknowledging also that
those nature-based environments are varied and so the equipping is perhaps
needing to be varied depending on what those experiences those teachers are
having. [Marion, FFG: 331–335]
These examples from the data highlight the importance of professional relationships within the
teaching team related to encounters beyond the ECE gate. Each foregrounds the importance of
relationships that involve high levels of trust: trusting the environment and the opportunities
provided; trusting each other (including parent helpers); communication about expectations and
assumptions; and knowledge of the environment itself. Teachers argued that knowing each
teacher’s skill-set and priorities for children’s learning contributed to the levels of confidence
within the team. They also support their capacity to enact the pedagogical strategies they
believed to be important in these uncertain environments:
[Teachers] have the shift into thinking, believing and knowing that there
actually is huge learning on the other side of the gate and having that faith and
that trust in taking those teaching skills and abilities into the wider context, into
the wider environment and having that shift in their own teaching practice.
[Kathryn, IFG: 70–84]
58
9#D#@!?5/&1*).!'+!(2**/(2&2=!&)'1)*+!!
In addition to trust within teaching teams and trusting the environment during outdoor
experiences, a third and often confronting aspect of trust for the teachers was their ability to
allow children to lead their own learning. Again we see another connection to a Forest School
principle, this time that learning is play-based and as far as possible child-initiated and child-led
(Knight, 2009, pp. 15-17; see 2.2.2). Through their positive engagement with nature, teachers
came to describe children as curriculum leaders and strong advocates for the environment. The
research process enabled teachers to develop a heightened appreciation of the children’s
leadership potential in the outdoors, citing numerous examples of this in their discoveries. The
learning power of young children was brought to mind for teachers when they were able to
reflect on the data. They recognised, for example, the way children responded, generally with
ease and without complaint, to physical challenges such as walks up (Pukemokemoke) or
around a mountain (Mauao). Teachers found that children frequently revealed complex and
creative meaning-making in nature spaces when teachers were more attuned to children’s
priorities. One of numerous examples was evident in a child’s discovery of coloured slime
through the camera lens—variously described as “red like a fire engine”, “pumpkin” and “put
the chilli sauce inta cup” [Barbie, home-based ECE: Stimulated recall interview, 28.06].
Photograph taken by Coco, home-based ECE Kimi Haere, 28.06
Facilitating children’s engagement with the natural environment therefore became a critical part
of teachers’ pedagogy—ranging from the simple exposure of “being out in the rain, being out in
the mud, being wet” [Amy, IFG: 427] to visiting large, potentially unpredictable spaces like
Summerhill Farm or the university campus with exploration in mind. One teacher reported that
on a visit to Brann’s Farm she had supported a child to go exploring by himself, saying only:
If you can’t see me, you need to turn round and come back’. So he headed off.
Then the other two said ‘Oh, can we go too?’ and I said ‘Absolutely’. So they
ventured off over the fence by themselves and up the hill, then they came back,
and then they went again, then they came back…. [Debbie, Paengaroa
Kindergarten staff meeting transcript, 01.07]
Photograph sourced from file collection at Paengaroa Kindergarten
59
The teacher recognised that she did not do so without relinquishing power and control over the
situation. She later described the internal turmoil she experienced in this moment as a turning
point in her professional journey. As Hydon (2007, cited in Robinson & Vaealiki, 2010)
suggests, such moments represent ethical encounters that are “a way of travelling” (p. 7) in
outdoor education. Experiences of this nature also caused teachers to think creatively about the
environments, the challenges, and the kind of equipment that was offered inside the gate. At
Papamoa Kindergarten, a commitment to democratic processes saw children’s desires for
features akin to Brann’s Farm incorporated into the design for the renewed outdoor environment.
Children were joyous when their requests for a stream (water that you can climb in), a humpy
bridge and rocks were implemented [Gill, Papamoa Kindergarten, initial analysis notes].
In several research sites, teachers were replacing traditional climbing boxes with pine logs or
manuka. Teachers also recognised that open-ended materials offered children a different means
of creative engagement because “out in those spaces they are away from our traditional tools
and they can use only what they find in the environment. And that takes a certain shift in the
children’s thinking and adaptability” [Annette, IFG: 8–11]. Another teacher argued for
consistency between the experiences and resources available within and beyond the gate:
We need to ensure the kindergarten environment offers the same opportunities
and reflects the same activities as we would outside the gate. For example our
paints [need] to be made from natural resources … tools available so that
children can build with natural resources … regular fires and cooking so that it
lessens the risk. [Debbie, Paengaroa Kindergarten, Reflective diary, 03.06]
Photograph sourced from file collection at Papamoa
Kindergarten
Several examples of children using sticks and other natural resources in dynamic ways to
represent their discoveries were evident in the data.
(L) Waybig recreates spiders’ webs, Papamoa Kindergarten photograph sourced from Learning Story
(R) A fairy grotto made of branches, photograph taken by Coco [home-based ECE Kimi Haere, 07.07]
60
These discoveries are significant from a sociocultural standpoint. Vygotsky (1978) used the
example of a stick to explain his idea that there are cultural parameters surrounding the way
objects might be used. When rules are suspended, however, it becomes possible, through the
imagination, for a stick to become a web or a fairy grotto (or in Vygotsky’s case, a horse).
Through such means, the child can alter the meaning without changing reality. Vygotsky
proposes that such imaginative encounters are possible in play. These findings suggest that there
are multiple opportunities for such play to take place in outdoor spaces. We are also reminded
by Carr et al. (2009), that imagination is one of the three significant learning dispositions for
young children to develop in social contexts and that it relates to ‘learning to imagine
alternatives’ as discussed above. In suspending the serious reality of ECE centre life, nature
offered an outlet for imagination as well as for physicality when children were free to explore
without adult intervention.
5.4.3.1&Children&teaching&families/whānau&&
Another outcome of the study was the extent to which children’s discoveries in nature
influenced their families/whānau. As children in these settings became more enthusiastic about
their outdoor experiences, so too did their parents:
They’ve wanted to know what their children were going home raving about that
Brann’s Farm place. They all wanted to come and actually, it really helps them
to see how important this is for their children, especially with National
Standards and they know where their children are going to and they can see that
this is so important in their children’s lives and if they want to could [come too].
Other teachers write diaries of where we’ve been and parents have started doing
that too. And they’d write the most—of the things they value for their
children—while they’re out in that space. [Gill, FFG: 285–291]
Teachers from all research sites described significant shifts in parental attitudes to their nature-
based outings (with the exception of some parents at the rural kindergarten). In the main, it
would seem parents moved from anxieties about safety to recognition of the significance of
nature-based experiences for their child’s learning. Others looked to children, rather than
families/whānau and communities, as protagonists playing leading roles, in sustainability. This
was, in no small part, due to the advocacy of teachers. One manager explained “the dad hadn’t
really engaged with the kindergarten up until now and he said “Oh those gardens over there—
who looks after them?” and I said “ It’s the children—he was amazed” [Peter, IFG: 137–139].
This advocacy role for children, and encouraging their responsible engagement with nature in
partnership with families/whānau, was seen as a significant role of the teacher, as one explained:
And so that’s how we are linking that with the families and the children. That’s
because there are places to love. Let’s look after them, and how do we look
after them? And so for me that’s suggesting how to be judicious about that, how
to make good judgements and that. [Cathie, FFG: 538-541].
XPX.$=EI@5.=<.A5:8=E?@.
Teachers saw nature-based environments as key mediators in children’s experience as a means
of transferring knowledge. The landscapes, their seasons and associated characteristics, for
example evergreen and deciduous trees, brought discoveries in the outdoors to bear on serious
educational priorities. Often these priorities needed little or no promotion—speaking for
themselves through daily changes in the weather, temperature and appearance. Teachers saw
their role as working with nature in ways that enhanced respect for Papatūānuku (mother earth).
Data showed teachers working with children to establish and model protocols that exemplified
respect for the environment, such as gaining permission from local iwi or Department of
Conservation Te Papa Atawhai before entering the environment; or kaitiakitanga (guardianship)
through lived experiences with conservation.
61
Teachers, children and families/whānau came to appreciate more fully the provocations the
natural world offered—in many cases a great deal more than any resources they could purchase
to promote learning. Spatial, emotional, spiritual and naturalistic intelligences (Gardner, 1998)
could all be seen to be stimulated through the arts and the environment. In a book chapter
entitled Artfully caring for the environment (Kelly, in press) the mediation role of nature in
children’s learning is highlighted. Examples of children’s fascination with places and things in
the natural environment are described, including examples from The Ngahere Project data.
These examples include land art or ephemeral art involving children re-presenting collected
natural materials on-site or back at the ECE setting. Other examples include natural materials
being collected to be reused or recycled in collages (see Ben Ten example), charcoal from
previous fires at Brann’s Farm used for drawing on sketchpads provided outdoors, and leaves
sewn into leaf blankets back at the ECE setting, and composted after use.
Adults came to appreciate the complexity of what was taking place for the child by sharing in
the experience and recognising its significance for learning including transference of knowledge:
I think that they can see from one context to another. How [do] we observe that?
If I take back to some of the messages that children might get from nature, and
the learning that you have around conserving water or protecting creatures in
the sea. Then something might happen in the community, like the Rena, and
[then you see] how they play those things out in your context and weave all
those things together. And that to stand back as a teacher and work out that they
transfer all that knowledge and [have] brought it together in a really
sophisticated way. [Julie S, FFG: 112–118]
Another example of nature as a mediator of knowledge can be seen during photo generation and
stimulated recall interviews with children from the home-based ECE research site. Two children
photographed the same dead rat on the pathway during separate outings. Unsurprisingly, the rat
was at varying stages of its decomposition in the children’s photographs. Each child talked
about the significance of their photographs in different ways. When interviewed by the home-
based educator, Barbie, a three and a half year old girl was seemingly making connections with
the tragic Christchurch earthquake that killed many people and was widely reported in the
media around this time.
Trudie: When you took a photo of the dead rat, what were you thinking about, Barbie?
Barbie: I was thinking about at Christchurch we should go, at Christchurch with the little mouse…
Trudie: You think the mouse should be at Christchurch? Why do you think that, Barbie?
Barbie: Cause, at Christchurch… everyone is dead at Christchurch.
Barbie’s photograph of the rat from home-based ECE Kimi Haere
and excerpt from interview transcript 23.06
A fortnight later, in another stimulated recall interview Barbie continued to explore working
theories about the dead rat. She had photographed it again and when asked what she was
thinking this time as she took the photograph, she suggested “He’s lost, he’s … think he’s in
heaven” and later “I could put it into Jesus’ cross” [Barbie, home-based ECE interview
transcript, 7 July].
62
Meanwhile, Ben 10, aged four years ten months, emphasised the physical features of the rat as it
decomposed. He had photographed the rat four times on the latest Kimi Haere and his interest,
when interviewed, centred on the cause of death. He suggested that ‘bikes runned over it … and
it got squashed” [Ben 10, h-based ECE interview transcript, 7 July] rather than referring to any
current event or religious connection as Barbie had.
Clark (2007), Einarsdóttir (2007) and White (2011) all argue that adult interpretations and
meaning-making processes must take place in collaboration with the child and their world. This
position recognises that the child has legitimate experience and associated theorisations of the
world that are unique to them even though the landscapes or subjects of their working theories
may be shared. Appreciating this in any educational context assists teachers to gain an enriched,
rather than assumed, understanding of the tacit knowledge that the child brings to their
experiences (Richards, 2009).
Throughout the analysis stage of the research, the notion that children have mysterious
encounters with nature, generating complex theories and creative approaches that are not
necessarily known to the adult, was constantly reinforced for teachers. They came to appreciate
that their interpretations often proved to be misguided when children were leading their learning.
Opportunities for teachers to recognise, and value, peer co-operative learning were also
heightened in nature education as children worked together to solve numerous physical and
conceptual challenges. As one teacher explained: “They are actually becoming bastions of their
own learning than us, bouncing more ideas off each other than using the teacher” [Amy, FFG:
614–616].This was the case for toddlers as much as for older children, and was evident for
teachers across all research sites as they came to ‘see’ more.
XP[.35D?;98<89;.A?@5.
Foregrounding listening and seeing approaches in the methodology meant that teachers were
able to confront many of their assumptions about children’s learning. By viewing experiences
from children’s perspectives, they saw, and heard anew, evidence of children’s capacities to
learn in diverse ways. In several incidents, these revelations shifted teachers from scaffolding to
co-constructing learning with young children. Their respect for children’s complex discoveries
deepened. Teachers at Papamoa Kindergarten, for example, discovered their potential to step
back and observe more often in their investigations with children rather than intervening and/or
instantly providing answers. They reflected on the notion of ‘hijacking’ suggested by Peters &
Davis (2011) in their work investigating children’s working theories. These authors noticed
“how easy it was for adults to assume knowledge of the child’s interest and meaning and hijack
the direction of the activity or conversation” (p. 12), thus disrupting their working theories.
Such insights provided many provocations for teachers in their interpretations of their role,
causing them to develop their own question, “Am I using my power to hijack the direction of
children’s working theories?” [Papamoa Kindergarten, initial analysis notes] as the following
example shows:
63
Teacher (T) discovers olives on the ground…
Child: They’re beans.
T: Beans on an olive tree?
Do you think? ... Am I hijacking? [Said to a teacher nearby]
Child: Those are olives. They have to be ripe to eat. The purple ones are.
T: Look what’s inside!
Child: It’s the juicy stuff!
T: Feel it! Smell it!
Child: Look it has a bean inside it!
Photograph of children picking up olives from Learning Story
written by teachers at Papamoa Kindergarten
These insights were also evident within the kindergarten gate when teachers analysed their
inquiries with children. During the research, teachers realised the important cues children were
offering them which sometimes went unrecognised at the time. During a videotaped group-time
discussion following a regular visit to Brann’s Farm, children were describing a fantail they had
seen. In response to a teacher’s question “how did you know it was a fantail?” a verbally
articulate boy stated “cos it has a feather on its bum”. Watching the video later, teachers
identified for the first time, two girls who were non-verbally communicating their ideas about
fantails. They were using their hands to illustrate the span of the bird’s tail. The teachers
realised that because of their focus on children’s oral descriptions they had omitted seeing and
hearing the body language descriptions of others. This was a graphic reminder of the notion that
in order to listen, we also have to see in work with the very young (Johansson & White, 2011).
(L) Papamoa Kindergarten video still shot—Girl depicting fantail with hands
(R) Fantail, pīwakawaka or pīwaiwaka showing span of tail feathers
64
Papamoa teachers concluded that they were privileging certain ways of seeing and hearing
children and their meaning-making about outdoor experiences. As one of the teachers explained:
I think we need to be really mindful, actually, that children’s learning is not
always verbalised … quite often we convince those children who aren’t able to
articulate their thinking or their working theories that we’re not paying attention
to the many different ways that they make meaning. [Gill, FFG: 106–109]
Similarly one of the teachers at Paengaroa Kindergarten expressed her surprise at the more
sophisticated theories she recognised in children’s thinking that were now available to her in the
outdoor environment:
I notice a lot more when you’re there, when you’re out there. I notice things
about the children that I hadn’t noticed before. And I don’t know whether it’s
because they hadn’t had that opportunity before, but it’s just that there’s so
much going on around that it’s really hard to listen deeply and to really observe
and listen to what they’re saying…. [Julie D, FFG: 99–102]
Another example of such a shift was also evident in the home-based ECE setting where adults
realised how differently each child ‘saw’ the nature-based settings and how unique their
interpretations of what appeared to be an identical outdoor experience were. The children’s
photographs and follow-up conversations about their significance revealed some remarkable
insights, as the following data suggests:
Educator: So the first photo you took today…
Barbie: Is Nana.
Educator: Is Nana. And she’s got a big smile, she was so happy to see you.
Now, have a look through some of the other photos…
Barbie: Nana’s tooth is gone.
Educator: Her other tooth is gone? Is it? She’s lost some teeth?
After further investigation, teachers discovered that Barbie’s nana had recently gained new
dentures, hence Barbie’s interest. Nana’s surprise arrival on the Mauao Base Track during this
Kimi Haere prompted Barbie’s photograph. The stimulated recall interview and photograph
afforded a chance for her to highlight its significance and her associated theorising. Many of
Barbie’s photographs featured people alongside the landscape, whilst for other children this was
not the case.
For example Coco, aged three and a half, consistently took photographs of the environment that
illustrated her complex ‘seeing’. During analysis the home-based educator, coordinators and
lead researchers all identified that Coco’s photographs evidenced a highly sophisticated
‘aesthetic’ well beyond her age, and her ability to verbalise [possibly due to the interview
setting] her unique ways of seeing. Clark (2007) argues that the child’s personal photography
raises the status of young children’s image making to enable them to enter adult debates. This
was certainly the case as adults discussed the extent of Coco’s (and other children’s) seeing and
meaning making.
65
Both of these examples could be seen to involve disruption of children’s working theories
through unintentional hijacking by the educator. She possibly assumed “knowledge of [Barbie
and Coco’s] interests and meaning and hijack[ed] the direction of the activity or conversation”
(Peters & Davis, 2011, p. 12). As we saw earlier, even experienced and qualified teachers at
Papamoa Kindergarten found themselves unwittingly hijacking children’s working theories,
until they reflected on discussions with children, becoming aware of their power and ability to
dominate children’s thinking and theorising with their agendas.
An increasingly prominent feature of teacher pedagogy was collaborative inquiries about
children’s interests as in the case of Barbie’s nana’s teeth, Coco’s aesthetic, Ben 10’s interest in
emergent literacy and numeracy and Scooby Doo’s focus on the many and varied patterns of
nature and people she saw there. Pedagogy based on collaborative inquiries reflects the
sociocultural nature of curriculum that is personally and culturally relevant (Elkonin, 2005). The
meaning and relevance of what children saw via the camera was highlighted through joint
discussions between the child and educator. Conversations with their families/whānau often
enhanced the educator’s and coordinators’ understandings. For example, by sharing Coco’s
photographs with her family, teachers learnt that they often watched the sun rise from their
family boat during fishing trips. Coco’s appreciation of the landscape was clearly informed by
such experiences. These adults recognised that children can offer them remarkable insights into
their thinking through visual and aural cues if their eyes and ears are attuned. And yet, adults
recognised that these children’s thinking often exceeded ‘adult ways of knowing’ (White, 2009).
While nature-based experiences beyond the gate are common in ECE, we were reminded that
children often come to these encounters with knowledge of their own based on prior experience
and their families’ funds of knowledge (Moll et al., 1992).
Educator: Is there something about that picture that you’d like them to see?
Coco: The purple.
Educator: Purple! Where’s the purple? How did that purple get there I wonder? Where’s that
purple coming from?
Coco: Maybe from the sun.
Educator: I think you’re right! That looks like the sun shining through the trees! So you’ve
held your camera up towards the sun, and we’re looking at the tree with the sun
behind it. The light’s coming through… Do you remember looking at that tree with
the sun coming through?
Coco: Yup.
Educator: You do? And what were you thinking when you, when you took that picture?
Coco: Um, a tree with the sun.
Coco’s photographs taken on Mauao Base Track during home-based ECE Kimi Haere 28.06
and related excerpt from interview transcript about photo on left
66
These insights caused several shifts in practice. For example, the educator and coordinators
from the home-based ECE setting revised their assessment practices. They moved from taking
photographs and writing learning stories based on their interpretations of children’s interests to
working alongside children to discover children’s priorities. They signalled an intention to
discontinue ‘project approaches’ to children’s learning because they recognised the personal,
subtle and nuanced encounters children were constantly having in nature-based settings. As a
coordinator explained:
Now it’s very child-focussed, it’s from the child’s perspective. It’s not what her
[the educator’s] perspective of their learning is, she’s taking the time to actually
ask further, deeper, more intentional questions of children and … giving them
the camera again in different contexts to take their own photos of what is
important to them. [Kathryn, FFG: 58–62]
Here there was a marked shift in thinking about learning as outcomes-based, scientific forms of
inquiry to an experience of ‘being’ in the outdoors. Thus, teachers came to appreciate that what
can be seen, and therefore valued, is seldom removed from one’s direct and indirect experience.
When the wider world is welcomed as a legitimate learning context, and children’s perspectives
are genuinely sought, opportunities for discovery and awe are greatly increased—for teacher
and learner alike.
Teachers’ discoveries presented them with opportunities to view learning in a much broader
way, and in doing so revise their pedagogical strategies. For example the teachers at Papamoa
Kindergarten revised their philosophy to include “embracing uncertainty” in an attempt to
respond more appropriately to children’s thinking and theorising. They sought to pay careful
attention to children’s multiple perspectives; the multi-modal ways they portrayed their
theorising; being ‘present’ and ‘mindful’ as teachers; and the ‘teacher power’ that they, as adults,
wielded in the learning environment [Papamoa Kindergarten, initial analysis notes]. They
recognised multiple approaches to discovery and the importance of not intervening too quickly.
They also realised the significant role they played in problem posing or learning from and with
the child (and the repertoire of possibilities this offered them).
In the outdoors, the environment itself played a much larger role and opened up rich
possibilities for children to explore their own priorities rather than those of the teachers. This is
consistent with Orr (2005) who suggests that “the place itself becomes an agent in the
curriculum” (p. 97). With this insight, teachers began to question their strategies, moving
beyond a focus on verbally questioning children about their discoveries, to closer observation of
subtle acts that revealed important clues about children’s working theories and dispositions.
This is the “listening-and-observing approach exemplified by Reggio Emilia and Te Whāriki”
(Knight, 2009, p. 67). These pedagogical strategies became primary sites for investigation rather
than those that teachers assumed were important to everyone based on their own priorities. As a
result, teachers engaged more deeply in discussions about their practice and its significance for
learning in the outdoors.
And so it’s dialoguing together, it’s about relationships, isn’t it?—with children,
with teachers, with management, with whānau and with educators. I’m not
suggesting that doesn’t happen but that’s where the dialogue is needed, we all
need to be on the journey together. [Julie S, FFG: 451–453]
-IAA=@6.
Teachers suggested that sustained, prolonged, shared experiences with nature would assist
children to “grow to understand why it is important that we protect these things and then in
future days they will be the engineers of that too” [Cathie, IFG: 304–306]. The findings from
this study suggest that this is a very real possibility in developing and maintaining nature-based
learning environments that are committed to sustainability. They also suggest that the contexts
which support such outcomes alter pedagogies in ways that are consistent with the early
childhood curriculum, children’s rights agendas and kaupapa Māori notions of the living earth.
Play-based and playful pedagogies (Waite. 2011); pedagogies of seeing (White, 2009); and
67
listening (Rinaldi, 2001, 2006); and pedagogies of relationships, sometimes known as
‘relational pedagogy’ (Brownlee & Berthelsen, 2006; Fraser et al., 2007; Rule, 2012) are
fundamental to these approaches.
A cautionary note is added by Dahlbeck (2012) who argues that sustainability cannot be forced
on learners as a set of prescribed learning outcomes or ecological programmes that force or
coerce children, families/whānau to care. Rather it is through affective engagement with the
environment, and caring adults and peers, that sustainability is gaining a place in these Aotearoa
New Zealand ECE settings. Our findings suggest that this is the case for children, as well as
teachers, communities, and the environment itself. Where adults share a delight of nature and its
potential for learning in dynamic embodied ways, and are willing to do so with a listening ear
and open eyes, there is every possibility that sustainable practices will thrive. However, as
teachers and managers in this research project came to appreciate, this is an “evolution rather
than a revolution” [Peter, IFG: 602] in the context of early years—one that requires careful and
honest dialogue about what learning is valued and how teachers will work to support this in the
outdoors.
68
CHAPTER(6: CONCLUSION
The Ngahere Project took 33 ECE teachers across six sites and four management
representatives on an action research examination of their practice in nature-based education.
From the outset, each site upheld a commitment to sustainability and so the research asked two
central questions. The first “what might nature-based learning look like in diverse Aoteaora
New Zealand ECE services that are committed to sustainability?” invited participants to explore
the nature of provision through field work at each site and focus group interviews. The types of
programmes offered and their relationships to sustainability goals were at the centre of this
inquiry. The second question asked “what are some of the pedagogical issues and provocations
teachers face in this domain?” Here, teachers examined their practice and the decisions they
made before, during and after encounters with nature within and beyond the ECE setting gate.
There were also considerable opportunities for participants to see and hear children’s
perspectives through the methodology employed to generate data. A mosaic approach
comprised of both innovative and familiar research methods was adopted in order to capture the
diversity of design. Taken together, these approaches provided a rich set of data for analysis.
[PQ.-69EF5<8<.?7.789:89;<
While some of the teachers in this study were inspired by international programmes such as
Forest School, they were adamant that nature-based learning in Aotearoa New Zealand was
unique. They celebrated this uniqueness and identified features of provision characterised by
easy access to large spaces, water and bush. Sustainability principles were allied with a strong
commitment to tikanga Māori based on a worldview of nature or Papatūānuku as a living entity.
This was evident across all sites; reinforced by community elders who were interviewed; and
evident in regular protocols and practices that supported children’s awareness of caring for the
environment. A dynamic relationship between people and land was forged and maintained
through events such as harvesting, story-telling or responding to need (not least the Rena
disaster that took place towards the end of this project). In this way, nature-based learning can
be seen as a reciprocal process with an agenda that is led by the events of nature as much as the
people who seek to promote and protect it.
Teachers were also highly influenced by UNCROC, ECEfS and Enviroschools’ kaupapa (where
applicable). Commitment to these documents created an even stronger conviction to ensure
children had ready access to nature. Teachers frequently raised ethical principles associated with
these documents, principles and concepts in their practice, recognising the importance of their
own actions as much as those of others. Hence, there was a strong emphasis on modelling
caring relationships with the environment and paying careful attention to the lessons offered by
nature herself. Yet, the teachers’ approaches did not merely echo those of international ECEfS
literature by any means. While education “in”, “about” and “for” the environment was generally
evident, what was more significant for these Aotearoa New Zealand settings appeared to be
education “with” the environment. Here the living nature of the environment, channelled from
indigenous principles, set the scene for a dialogic relationship to exist between teacher-nature-
child, with nature itself as a central mediating influence. Not only did this occur for teachers and
children in their encounters with nature but, as children shared their enjoyment and associated
commitment to these experiences, families/whānau began to get involved too.
The diverse range of provision, as teachers in each setting sought to respond to their
sustainability agenda, was a strong feature of the research. In some settings, all of the children
went to one special place on a regular basis, while others visited different spaces from time to
time. All teachers were involved in nature-based experiences in some sites, whereas in others
only interested teachers took part, particularly in the research. For some settings, nature-based
learning was identified as an integral part of the programme within the gate. For others, the
opportunity for children to go into large or wild spaces beyond the gate was paramount. Where
some settings drove many miles to reach preferred sites, others simply stepped outside their
69
back door. Therefore, learning contexts were focussed around equipment used, protocols
employed, spaces utilised and their perceived potential for learning about nature and
sustainability. It was clear that, for these ECE settings, nature-based learning looks different in
diverse settings, dependent on a range of factors. Several of these factors were identified by
teachers as they explored their provision. They included the beliefs of teachers involved, their
backgrounds and experience, relationships within the teaching team, support from the
community, and the approaches they felt they could take to challenge and risk.
Despite all these differences, each site shared similar priorities for children’s learning.
Participants were keen to implement their pedagogical obligations in relation to Te Whāriki, and
its relationship to the Treaty of Waitangi. Nature was granted legitimacy in the curriculum
through principles, strands and practices that foregrounded “people, places and things”.
Teachers deepened their appreciation of the holistic principles of the curriculum through an
examination of an array of pedagogies in nature-based learning experiences. They described
their response as less of a paradigm shift than a fuller realisation of curriculum aspirations. In
doing so they claimed central tenets of Te Whāriki that uphold what is known, as well as what
might be unknown about children and their learning. Children’s embodied experiences in nature,
and their relationship to children’s social lives, were thus valued as highly as their physical or
cognitive experiences. Play and creativity was seen as vital for children and teachers alike.
Teachers employed pedagogies that privileged children’s perspectives on their learning. A range
of approaches were utilised according to the situation, the child, the context and the teacher’s
recognition of the significance of the experience. The listening and seeing approach utilised in
this project raised teachers’ awareness in this regard. They came to appreciate the importance of
time and space in their practice, suggesting that nature-based experiences created more scope
for them to pause, to ponder, and even to be silent, in the presence of the child. Teachers
suggested that they recognised more about children—that their awareness of children’s unique
dispositions, skills, traits and qualities was heightened—in nature because they were less
distracted. They claimed that children’s multi-modal literacies or languages of communication
were encouraged by nature-based experiences ranging from the weaving of spider webs, or
using hands to make a fantail’s tail or whale’s spout, to photographing the horizon or the sun
shining through the trees as an aesthetic experience. These languages brought rich depth to
learning experiences and were more evident firstly outdoors and then back in the ECE centre.
Greater recognition of them was facilitated by the research processes as teachers collected and
revisited visual research data in the form of video and photographic material.
While the participants celebrated many aspects of their practice and deepened others, they
continue to be challenged in the provision of nature-based learning. A significant aspect of
challenge was evident across several sites in their response to risk. Teachers grappled with the
dualism they faced in considering the competent and capable child of Te Whāriki and the
vulnerable child who faced dangers in their encounters with nature. For these teachers, the
degree to which this dualism could be reconciled lay in their ability to embrace risk as
opportunity. This required careful planning, knowledge of the environment, knowledge of each
child and trust in each member of the teaching team. Careful negotiation and dialogue took
place around this topic in tandem with teachers’ awareness and creative application of the ECE
Regulations which also guided their practice. Participants concluded by suggesting that nature-
based education must be approached with careful dialogue and constant decision-making. It
does not occur on a mere whim or well-meaning intention but instead, as the research has
highlighted, requires stable structures, solid pedagogical understanding and strategic support to
realise its potential in promoting sustainability.
70
Figure 5: Nature-based learning in Aotearoa New Zealand
Figure 5 summarises the findings of The Ngahere Project, highlighting the significant factors
that contribute to nature-based learning that is committed to sustainability. These are based on
the discoveries of teachers and management representatives in relationship with children,
families/whānau and, of course, nature itself.
[PO.KIEI@5.:8@5DE8?9<.7?@.@5<5=@DF\.B?C8D6.=9:.B@=DE8D5
The findings of The Ngahere Project signal several future directions for research, policy and
practice. There are significant aspects of future research that this project has evoked in relation
to sustainability and its relationship to nature-based learning. For example, little was heard from
teachers and parents who were not committed to sustainability within this project, as they did
not choose to participate in focus groups or were silent within the field work. It would be useful
to understand their perspectives of the experiences offered. Similarly, as the teachers discovered
themselves, there was a tendency for some perspectives to be heard more than others in work
with young children. We recognise that children from diverse cultural and linguistic
backgrounds for example, are not visible in the findings. We are also mindful that gender
differences are likely in nature settings. They were not examined in this research. Hinted at, but
not fully addressed, are also socio-economic differences that influence the nature of provision
and pedagogy. The kinds of investment that is given to nature-based provision versus demands
for ‘academic standards’ that hover uneasily around contemporary ECE is worthy of further
exploration. As mentioned, neither environments nor curriculum are value-free or neutral.
Hence, what do teachers and management representatives consider is negotiable? And where do
parents contribute to these discussions? Does teachers’ power sharing extend to them? Future
research in these areas would benefit from more intense scrutiny of each site and the distinct and
diverse factors within. This includes children; parents and whānau and community; as well as
teachers and management. It is their perspectives that so richly inform the complexity of the
topic. The Ngahere Project is merely a beginning in this regard.
Central to this research has been the support offered to us all by the employing organisations.
From a policy point of view it is important to note that what was possible for these teachers is
Environmental
knowledge
Curriculum
knowledge!
Developmental
knowledge
Cultural
knowledge
Professional
knowledge
Child
Teacher
!
Known
!
Pedagogies
Unknown
Infrastructure
& Support
Affordances
Constraints
UNCROC
Te Wh!riki
ECEfS and
Enviroschools
Treaty of Waitangi
Nature
Regulatory
knowledge
Trust &
Commitment
Family
71
clearly linked to the operational acumen of management. Teachers were supported to take risks,
make judgments and try out new ideas throughout the action research initial cycle, and beyond.
Time and resources granted to teachers which enabled them to step outside of busy centre life
were vital to their capacity to reflect on practice (provision and pedagogy) and consider its
implications for children’s learning. Underpinned by vision, philosophy and associated policies
that made this possible, management acted as a mediator between the expectations of the state
(that is, ECE Regulations and Criteria) and the realities of centre life. Support of this nature
highlights the point made by the participants early in the research process that a serious
commitment to nature-based ECE that is committed to sustainability represents an investment, a
priority, and involves making strategic choices.
Such commitment is not only the responsibility of organisations. The kinds of programmes
offered to the children and families/whānau of The Ngahere Project do not exist for all children
in Aotearoa New Zealand. Were it not for personal and professional ethical, financial and
philosophical commitments on the part of all involved in this project, it is unlikely that these
nature-based experiences would exist. A national commitment is also needed for such ideals to
be realised in all ECE sites. Based on the experience on this study, such commitment should
take the form of professional development programmes, targeted funding, mentoring, and
increased recognition of the additional support that is needed. We are not suggesting that ECE
services should be coerced into nature-based provision. Instead they should be exposed to the
possibilities for practice and pedagogy; and the associated benefits for children and
community—both now and in the future. Sustainability is on the ECE agenda so, in the spirit of
Te Whāriki, it is a case of claiming this potential for the benefit of all.
!
72
3(K(3($"(-..
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