Learning from the Littles — An Intern’s Perspective

“It was the kids who taught me that our mind is capable of great imagination, and the only thing that had stopped me from exercising it was my learned adult habits.

I dropped my backpack, because I wanted to play too!” 

by Weiwei Chan, Tufts student intern at BOPN—Malden

When I tell people I work at an outdoor preschool, more often than not their joyous response is halted by a reflexive question: “What about when it gets cold?”

I usually laugh and respond truthfully: we bundle up with base layers and snow pants, waterproof gloves (with mittens inside) and a warm wool hat. Our backpacks are stuffed with extra hand warmers when the wind bites especially hard, but the best way to stay warm is to just keep the body moving.  Despite my laughter, anyone who has experienced a Massachusetts winter knows that the cold is no laughing matter. From chilling winds to unexpected snows, I understand them being perplexed by these 3-year-olds spending hours at a time outside. 

However, it is often me who complains about the cold before the kids. Their voracious appetite to play and run mirrors that one I had as a kid, and it is almost perplexing to know that I don’t have that desire now. While the occasional mitten mishap is to be expected, the kids are usually having too much fun playing to notice the chilly weather.

With the fraught sunlight and relentless winds, it can be easy to miss the beauty that a New England winter provides. This lesson could not have been better taught than on a seemingly mundane recent Monday morning. 

After a monotonous ride on the orange line from where I live in Somerville, I strolled into the park to see our first snow of the year. The white hills and stretches of untouched snow were a new sight, especially following the snowless winter we had last year. In light of the park’s beauty, I mentally braced myself for a day of small, cold hands, incessant hand warmer shaking, and a lot of reminders to “keep your hat on!” After our usual routine of the hello song, followed by Good Morning Dear Earth, our class decided that the day’s adventure spot would be a small hill so that we could go sledding. After getting our backpacks strapped on and a full wagon, we trekked on the snow laden land to our adventure spot. On the way, we passed by the pond, which—for the first time this year—was completely frozen.

The once lively pond was now a thick sheet of ice. The kids, with their insatiable curiosity, asked to stop and play near some frozen puddles.  As they ran (or really waddled with all the layers they were wearing), they slid on the frozen puddles. It was at this moment that I really began to appreciate New England’s four seasons, even if one is far more cumbersome than the rest. Watching the kids’ play evolve from pretend ice skating, to ice chasing of Abiyoyo (a book character they are obsessed with), showed me how I had taken our ever changing terrain for granted.
It was the kids who taught me that our mind is capable of great imagination, and the only thing that had stopped me from exercising it was my learned adult habits. I dropped my backpack, because I wanted to play too! 

As educators, our plates are always full. Passion and care lead us to this work, but that does not make it any less tiring. Now imagine the extra layers (literally) with being outside!

In moments such as the one we shared on this snowy winter morning, I am reminded that this job, in spite of all it asks of us, allows me to connect with a more carefree, child-like part of myself that I have subconsciously lost touch with.

And that is a lesson I continue to learn everyday.