The Invisible Learning

By: Taylor Donaldson, Parent & Wild Kits Club Guide at Notchcliff Nature Programs

On a recent camping trip, I realized I wasn't just watching my daughter play - I was watching years of learning come together. What do moss-covered boulders, a worm, a playground rock wall, and forest school have in common?

The Boulders

We arrived at our campsite, and to our surprise and my daughter’s delight, our campsite was surrounded by moss-covered boulders in an array of sizes.

She immediately got to climbing and jumping from boulder to tree to boulder. I'll admit - I was nervous. I pictured scraped knees and bumped heads. But I also trusted that she knew how to navigate this landscape. Aside from one gentle reminder to watch her footing, I let her climb. And I was ready to watch adventurous (risky) play live. 

By the second day, I wasn't watching for what could go wrong anymore. I was simply watching her play. We camped for three days, and for three days, my daughter scurried around the boulders and trees like a chipmunk.

The Worm 

While climbing around the boulders, she found a worm. Now, in true forest school kid fashion, when you find a worm, you have to yell as loud as you can, “I found a worm!” It was a large, wiggly worm that quickly became her newest treasure. After finding the worm, the next order of business was to build it a house. She found small sticks, a rock, and leaves to create a home. She finished her house by “tucking” the worm into bed under a lovely green leaf blanket.

The Rock Wall

We wandered over to the campground playground where one feature immediately caught her eye - a towering rock wall that stretched nearly as high as the swings. I didn't tell her where to put her hands or feet. I didn't remind her to use the rope. I simply watched. She’s never climbed a rock wall before, and she climbed up this wall with ease and confidence, like she’s been doing it for years. Now, on the inside, I was a nervous wreck - what if she falls? But yet again, let's witness this adventurous play in action. And the result was beautiful, she was beaming once she reached the top. And now, rock walls are deemed “mountain goat” walls. 

I couldn't help but wonder: How many trees, logs, rocks, and hills had quietly prepared her for this moment? This is the quiet power of forest school - it prepares children for experiences they haven't encountered yet.

The Cat’s Foot

On our final day of camping, as she was hopping around on the boulders, she kept coming back to a particular boulder. She’d hop over, land on it, look at it, then move on. Then, as if a light bulb went off, she exclaimed, “Mama, it looks like a cat’s foot!” I walked over to see this “cat’s foot,” and indeed it did look like a cat’s foot! Lines and all that make it look like little cat toes. 

I’ve thought about this moment ever since. Am I witnessing the idea that when children slow down and simply observe, they see more - the very practice that sit spots encourage?

The Invisible Learning 

We drop our children off and pick them up covered in the remnants of play, muddy boots, charcoal-smudged hands, berry-stained shirts, acorns in their pockets, and dirt under their fingernails. Those are the visible reminders of the day. The invisible ones are harder to see.

What stories do those stains tell?

• Muddy boots tell stories of trails hiked.

• Berry stains tell stories of curiosity.

• Charcoal-smudged hands tell stories of creativity.

• Dirt under tiny fingernails tells stories of digging, building, and discovering.

  
  

So what do boulders, a worm, and a rock wall have in common? They revealed the confidence, curiosity, empathy, creativity, and resilience my daughter has been developing through her days at forest school. No worksheet could have predicted how she would approach that rock wall. No assessment would have measured her empathy for a worm or her ability to spot a cat's paw hidden in a boulder. Yet these are the very qualities that help children navigate the world with confidence, wonder, and care, and will rely on for the rest of their lives. 

It struck me that none of these moments were new learning. They were opportunities for my daughter to reveal what she had already been quietly practicing every day at forest school. 

The camping trip wasn't where the learning happened. It was where I finally got to see it.