Children, Youth and Environments 17(2), 2007 Redeeming the Nature of Childhood Emily Stanley Antioch University New England Keene, New Hampshire Citation: Stanley, Emily (2007). “Redeeming the Nature of Childhood.” Children, Youth and Environments 17(2): 208-212. “Welcome back, Ivory Bill!” This sign on my classroom door one spring morning several years ago greeted students with bold red letters and a picture of the longunseen woodpecker. I could barely contain my excitement as each group came in for science class. How often do we get to tell such a gripping tale of loss and redemption? I described how much of the ivorybill’s habitat had been destroyed by logging, that it hadn’t been spotted for many years, and now, when all hope seemed gone—a sighting. “So,” I wound up with a celebratory flourish, “the lost bird has been found!” Some of the children cheered and clapped. Six-year old Jonathan, listening intently with hands clasped, responded gravely, “But, that bird wasn’t lost. The people were.” Two simple sentences; one unexpected, illuminating lesson. The ivorybill’s status has since remained in question, but I will forever imagine it obscured in the thick tangle of its own Arkansas woods, keeping a wary eye out for the lost people. How often do we allow the firm lens of our adult world to be inverted by the perspective of a child? Not often enough. In the 20 years that I have been teaching and parenting, I have filled many a mental bulletin board with snapshots and stories of how children have shifted my focus on the world. These help to counter the dismal, pervasive accounts of loss that top educational and parenting agendas, such as attention deficits, the evaporation of imagination, and vanishing opportunities for play. This discourse of loss has recently gained another member: the extinction of experience in nature, a phenomenon characterized by the everdecreasing time spent by successive generations in outdoor settings. What one generation does not experience, it will likely not value, and therefore will not bequeath to its children, suggests the idea’s originator, Robert Michael Pyle. Accordingly, our very evolutionary heritage as a species adapted to intimate contact with the natural world is at stake: as each new generation of nature-deprived adults takes the parenting stage, it raises another generation of children who lack sensitivity to the natural environment.© 2007 Children, Youth and Environments Redeeming the Nature of Childhood 209 Evidence of this decline is mounting, according to writer Richard Louv, and is characterized by a new phenomenon of loss: nature deficit disorder. The condition can include mental and physical health impairments (i.e., attention deficit, depression, obesity) resulting from parental and societal apathy toward or fear of the outdoors. It is poignantly expressed in images from Louv’s Last Child in the Woods (2005), such as the boy who says he prefers playing inside because of the electrical outlets there. Louv (2007) has even invoked the human child in nature as “the most important indicator species of future sustainability.” Search Images I listen to this discourse of loss and endangerment with growing uneasiness. Partly, this is due to having witnessed firsthand in my classroom and neighborhood some of the same disturbing trends cited by Pyle and Louv. There was, for instance, the girl who came happily to school on her first day, then declared that she wouldn’t be going outside for recess or for science class. “Bugs are out there,” she whimpered. Her mother’s response, when we called to ask for advice, was a flat, “She got Lyme disease last year, and we’re paving over the yard.” No further insight was offered, or needed. Being outdoors meant exposure to the threat of disease. I have also had students who claim allergies to nearly every living—and sometimes non-living—thing outdoors. They are miserable, unable to function in a stimulus-rich environment that provokes, for them, a sense of discomfort rather than discovery. These children are the rare exception, but they make me question the strength of the rule that all children, in every setting, crave and need the outdoors. The greater part of my discomfort comes, however, from...