Well, you all pestered me into pestering you with ideas from Last Child in the Woods {the updated and expanded version, no less}. So far, I wouldn’t say that there is anything groundbreaking in the book, though I will say the author is a better writer than I anticipated. Many books of this sort are such that I read them only for information. I don’t expect to enjoy the prose. This book, however, has had a couple bright spots, which is a nice bonus.
I think I’ll begin by saying that I see two primary reasons for having children {or all of us} spend time in and with nature: cultivating wonder and connecting with the land. Cultivating wonder keeps us humble, especially if the delight points us back to the Creator. “Connecting with the land” probably sounds very environmentalist, but I was actually referring to this in a Genesis sense. In the beginning, Man was a gardener, commanded to have dominion over the land. Actually going outside is a good first step, then, to remembering what we were created to be.
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| Last Child in the Woods by Richard Louv |
Now, this isn’t a Christian book, so I didn’t really expect these to be the reasons the author, Richard Louv, is interested in the outdoors. I expected that he’d point out what I’d consider to be secondary benefits. What I didn’t expect was that he’d emphasize children going into nature alone, that they might have freedom from the interference of their parents.
Now, before you think he’s trying to divide children from parents, I don’t think that is the point. I think he means that children used to be able to wander around and enjoy solitude. They could think without someone interrupting them. If there is one thing that distinguishes between a true Helicopter Parent and one that is simply protective, it is that aspect of interrupting.
Do you remember what Charlotte Mason said about true play?
But organised games are not play in the sense we have in view. Boys and girls must have time to invent episodes, carry on adventures, live heroic lives, lay sieges and carry forts, even if the fortress be an old armchair; and in these affairs the elders must neither meddle nor make. They must be content to know that they do not understand, and, what is more, that they carry with them a chill breath of reality which sweeps away illusions. Think what it must mean to a general in command of his forces to be told by some intruder into the play-world to tie his shoe-strings!
It seems to me that learning to conduct ourselves with what our friend Charlotte called “masterly inactivity”–where we wisely let our children alone, not interrupting their play–does not require nature. I’m not saying there isn’t something to the idea of being literally alone, but I do think that perhaps Louv is seeing this need because parents are often oppressively involved in their children’s lives these days, micromanaging Johnny’s every spare minute.
Just a thought I had, anyway.
I’ll post some quotes soon.
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