nature/environment

Adventures with Norwegian Children

It was a Tuesday morning in early August, and we got off the train at Finse, Norway, a snow-covered mountain-top town with only a rail station, bicycle-rental shop, and lodge. The nearest anything-else is a 30-minute drive away, if the roads aren’t frozen over. The trail that begins here, the Rallervegen, was built from 1902-1904 for railroad workers building the tracks. It is now a famous bicycle route. We were so excited to cycle this 3-foot-wide path down the mountain. Other than a few other cyclists all we saw were sheep and goats.

We headed out on the pebbly, unpaved trail to ride the winding 4,000-foot descent. We snaked along rivers, passed by countless waterfalls, went up and over a few snow-covered passes (where we had to get off and push our bikes), and saw an abundance of super-fuzzy moss-covered rocks. About a third of the way down the trail we came upon four girls, right in the middle of the path, between the ages of 5-12. They were suited up in snowsuits with a small folding table, some folding chairs, pitchers of lemonade and fruit punch, and a plate of cookies. They excitedly offered us refreshments as my boyfriend said to me, out of the side of his mouth, “Where are their parents?” I smiled at him, knowing we’d have an interesting lunch-time conversation about independence, nature, culture, and the benefits of being left to your own devices without any digital devices.

As we rode away we saw their home in the distance, maybe 500 feet away from their snack stand. It was the only home we saw that entire day, which also made us think about the experience of growing up so far from civilization. Of having only you and your siblings to occupy your time. Of wanting to meet new people and being totally cool with it being only ten cyclists a day. Of offering refreshments without any idea of making money off it. Of carrying these things from your far-away home. Of occupying yourselves all day without screens. Of finding people to practice English with. Of the simple joy of being able to brighten a stranger’s day.

We wondered how they would handle an injury. Our questions started from the overprotective and moved towards the Scandinavian way. Did they have a first aid kit? If someone got hurt would they carry her home? Would someone run to get help? Would they assess the situation and, if it wasn’t so serious, deal with it later knowing it was only a minor injury that didn’t require immediate attention? If it was a small cut or bruise, would they just grab some snow and make an ice pack or use the melted ice to clean the cut? Did they know of healing plants growing nearby?

These children were self-directing their own learning. They were creating experiences that forced them to act on the spot, navigate emotions and social interactions, make group decisions, and practice first impressions. They were building their self-confidence, independence, and self-regulation skills. These are important life skills that, I would argue, many millennials in the US are lacking.

This makes me wonder: We know that we are better able to learn new languages at a young age. Wouldn’t this also apply to social and emotional skills? If we focused on these skills in early childhood, they would be ingrained, and the next generation would be more adept at supporting each other and solving the world’s problems.  

A New Kind of Public School

After reading countless articles, studies, and whitepapers on why homework is counterproductive, creativity is being squashed by the soldier-like regimen of public school, and why people forget more than half of what they learned in school, I’m prepared to offer a new kind of public school. 

I recently attended the Brooklyn School Alternatives Conference and heard from a panel of micro-school directors about what learning is like in their (private) schools. Here is what some of them had to say: 

“Experience ourselves as capable of changing culture” – Tomis Parker, Agile Learning Center

“Structure with flexibility” – Noleca Radway, Brooklyn Free School

“City as classroom” – Noah Mayers, Brooklyn Apple Academy

"Student-led open school and opt-in adult-led classes" - Monique Scott, Freebrook Academy

“Our curriculum is to everyday challenge the insular nature of the classroom” – Sara Casey Taleff, ALC Cottonwood 

These micro-schools in Brooklyn are doing it right. The schools are structured around community and communication, not content. In many of these schools the teachers are called facilitators and are trained in helping students develop strong communication skills, independence, and self-regulation skills. Instead of corporations and non-educators deciding what students should learn and when they should learn, and master it, students choose topics of interest to dive into. 

Students are taught to set intentions, reflect on their actions, and hold themselves accountable, while also learning to be flexible. 

The current public school system could be transformed into this by using the same infrastructure and materials, changing the curriculum from an absolute to a supplemental tool, and making professional development for teachers center around communication skills, problem solving, and nurturing students instead of mastering benchmarks. A new kind of public education can be fostered, without much additional costs. 

The focus is on students discovering their own learning style and then running with it. 

The public school I envision has only 4 parts: 
-    Creative play- passion projects, maker-spaces
-    Outdoor exploration- neighborhoods, parks, fresh air, sun, rain, and snow!
-    Self-guided learning- solo and group, built in facilitator support, opt-in classes
-    Reflection- what and how you are learning, your actions and choices

There would be opportunities for internship, apprenticeship, field trips and travel, and guest speakers, experts, presentations, and workshops- decided by the students and always optional to attend. 

What kind of adult would you be if this was your school experience? 
  

Reverse culture shock & the power of positive thinking

I had said I didn’t want to return to New York. I had been overwhelmed by the feeling of being unable to escape consumerism at every turn. I wanted to live in the world of Gift Economy - trusting in humanity to provide for me and offering my services freely for the greater good.   I left India, where I had happily lived in a Gift Economy-bubble for more than a year. I had a backpack’s worth of possessions and people to share them with, not needing anything else. My service to the community was met with a hut to live in and three vegan meals a day. The community I was living in had broadened my view of and affirmed my belief that we need very little to survive and can live without doing further damage to the earth.   The community also humbled me with regard to the juxtaposition of how large the world is and yet how small it can feel. I met like-minded people from all over the world who, on most occasions, felt instantly like family. I am just one of many but I am connected to all. It is a powerful feeling to abandon fear and live as though the world is my backyard.   After doing my first bicycle tour I rediscovered my body, my physical strength, my desire for sweat-inducing adventure. And so I set out to cycle solo through Europe on my second bicycle tour. Cycling, I realized, forced me to be dependent on myself but also to admit that the world around me would support me. In this experiment of sorts I survived on, at most, 10 Euro per day. There were many days when I spent nothing. I slept in the homes of kind strangers who fed me and sent me with extra food for my journey.   I rode all morning and afternoon, feeling thankful for my connections to humanity and also thankful to feel fearless, knowing that I’d connect with the earth, with my body, and with other kind strangers along the way who would help me fulfill my needs. At farmer’s markets across the lands I was asked about my story, encouraged to keep going, not to lose my sense of trust in humanity or my bravery to travel alone, and I was rewarded for inspiring others with extra stuffed grape leaves, oranges to keep illness away, and an extra shot of espresso to keep moving and not feel the cold.   I lived on the road for almost 10 weeks in a society much older than my own, feeling the weight of age in the physicality of roads, villages, churches, and farms, trying to understand the history that came before me, the people who’ve passed on these same roads for different reasons, and the current economy of Western Europe, a rich entity not unlike the U.S., my home. I found it easy to live peacefully with nature and people and feel like my one-on-one human interactions were my added-value to open up minds and explore feelings of those who felt stuck, or unable to make change, or like they didn’t have choice. I was always supremely aware of my privileges: having saved some money over the years so I could make experiments like this, not being in debt, having people to support me if I fail, not having any dependents… freedom in so many ways.   I said I wouldn’t return to NY. I marveled at how well I felt mentally, physically, and emotionally being outside all day on my bicycle, feeling my body work to cover ground, breathing in fresh air, hours of quiet time, the sound of a rushing river, being among animals, and learning the stories of others as I shared my own. In this time I found a partner, from NY, who encouraged me to spend the holidays with him and to rediscover NY, give it another chance, see how jaded I really was, and find out if it was still my home.   My past life in NY was fast. I rushed from place to place, always needing more time in the day, never feeling finished, my to-do list always growing. I spent little money but nonetheless I paid for things that never occurred to me were optional. I ate on the subway, I crashed hard at night, I never felt like I had time for me, even though my work as an educator was enjoyable and enriching- it was everything but also felt like a sinking hole I’d never get out of.   After my time living in India, enveloped by nature, barefoot more often than not, living outside among trees and creatures, sheltered from consumerism, celebrating on a daily basis the contributions we can make to the earth through our life choices, and then cycling through rich lands where I chose to live simply and share my experiences, I have become calm. I am less reactive, more patient, waiting to take in all that is around me- the environment, the conversation, the big picture. I am not in a hurry. I am not impatient. I am not worried. Friends say I am more grounded.   And so I have rediscovered NY. I am not waiting, impersonally at crosswalks with other people in a rush; I am chatting with cyclists waiting for the light to change, secretly sharing joy in experiencing the city this other way. I am not in a high-rise apartment building, disassociated from people, feeling the city hum below me; I am living on the edges, with friends, in ethnically-diverse communities, artist-rich communities, feeling “neighborhood” more and more. I am not racing to teach my heart out until I collapse at the end of the day; I am reading and writing and meeting with other education reformists who see opportunities for change and are working with me, waiting for the right moment, to pounce.   I am different, but so is my relationship with NY. I remember being told many times by many people that you are who you are no matter where you are, that changing your environment will only change you temporarily; you are already formed. I disagree so much with these sentiments; your experiences form you throughout your life and they are dependent on  where  they happen,  who  they happen with, and how you  reflect  on them, incorporating the changes you like into the habits of who you are. And so, once again in my life, NY is home, even though I’m inside buildings, wearing shoes, and averting my gaze from the barrage of advertising that is capitalism.   I am grateful for my privilege, my choice, my adventures and experiences, the people I’ve crossed paths with and those I hold close, the times I cycled alone for hours being one with this planet, and feeling bold in the face of a plagued public education system while my brain fills with solutions for our children.   “Change your thoughts and you change your world.” Norman Vincent Peele said this. He was the godfather, of sorts, of the power of positive thinking. 

I had said I didn’t want to return to New York. I had been overwhelmed by the feeling of being unable to escape consumerism at every turn. I wanted to live in the world of Gift Economy - trusting in humanity to provide for me and offering my services freely for the greater good.

I left India, where I had happily lived in a Gift Economy-bubble for more than a year. I had a backpack’s worth of possessions and people to share them with, not needing anything else. My service to the community was met with a hut to live in and three vegan meals a day. The community I was living in had broadened my view of and affirmed my belief that we need very little to survive and can live without doing further damage to the earth. 

The community also humbled me with regard to the juxtaposition of how large the world is and yet how small it can feel. I met like-minded people from all over the world who, on most occasions, felt instantly like family. I am just one of many but I am connected to all. It is a powerful feeling to abandon fear and live as though the world is my backyard.

After doing my first bicycle tour I rediscovered my body, my physical strength, my desire for sweat-inducing adventure. And so I set out to cycle solo through Europe on my second bicycle tour. Cycling, I realized, forced me to be dependent on myself but also to admit that the world around me would support me. In this experiment of sorts I survived on, at most, 10 Euro per day. There were many days when I spent nothing. I slept in the homes of kind strangers who fed me and sent me with extra food for my journey. 

I rode all morning and afternoon, feeling thankful for my connections to humanity and also thankful to feel fearless, knowing that I’d connect with the earth, with my body, and with other kind strangers along the way who would help me fulfill my needs. At farmer’s markets across the lands I was asked about my story, encouraged to keep going, not to lose my sense of trust in humanity or my bravery to travel alone, and I was rewarded for inspiring others with extra stuffed grape leaves, oranges to keep illness away, and an extra shot of espresso to keep moving and not feel the cold.

I lived on the road for almost 10 weeks in a society much older than my own, feeling the weight of age in the physicality of roads, villages, churches, and farms, trying to understand the history that came before me, the people who’ve passed on these same roads for different reasons, and the current economy of Western Europe, a rich entity not unlike the U.S., my home. I found it easy to live peacefully with nature and people and feel like my one-on-one human interactions were my added-value to open up minds and explore feelings of those who felt stuck, or unable to make change, or like they didn’t have choice. I was always supremely aware of my privileges: having saved some money over the years so I could make experiments like this, not being in debt, having people to support me if I fail, not having any dependents… freedom in so many ways.

I said I wouldn’t return to NY. I marveled at how well I felt mentally, physically, and emotionally being outside all day on my bicycle, feeling my body work to cover ground, breathing in fresh air, hours of quiet time, the sound of a rushing river, being among animals, and learning the stories of others as I shared my own. In this time I found a partner, from NY, who encouraged me to spend the holidays with him and to rediscover NY, give it another chance, see how jaded I really was, and find out if it was still my home.

My past life in NY was fast. I rushed from place to place, always needing more time in the day, never feeling finished, my to-do list always growing. I spent little money but nonetheless I paid for things that never occurred to me were optional. I ate on the subway, I crashed hard at night, I never felt like I had time for me, even though my work as an educator was enjoyable and enriching- it was everything but also felt like a sinking hole I’d never get out of.

After my time living in India, enveloped by nature, barefoot more often than not, living outside among trees and creatures, sheltered from consumerism, celebrating on a daily basis the contributions we can make to the earth through our life choices, and then cycling through rich lands where I chose to live simply and share my experiences, I have become calm. I am less reactive, more patient, waiting to take in all that is around me- the environment, the conversation, the big picture. I am not in a hurry. I am not impatient. I am not worried. Friends say I am more grounded.

And so I have rediscovered NY. I am not waiting, impersonally at crosswalks with other people in a rush; I am chatting with cyclists waiting for the light to change, secretly sharing joy in experiencing the city this other way. I am not in a high-rise apartment building, disassociated from people, feeling the city hum below me; I am living on the edges, with friends, in ethnically-diverse communities, artist-rich communities, feeling “neighborhood” more and more. I am not racing to teach my heart out until I collapse at the end of the day; I am reading and writing and meeting with other education reformists who see opportunities for change and are working with me, waiting for the right moment, to pounce.

I am different, but so is my relationship with NY. I remember being told many times by many people that you are who you are no matter where you are, that changing your environment will only change you temporarily; you are already formed. I disagree so much with these sentiments; your experiences form you throughout your life and they are dependent on where they happen, who they happen with, and how you reflect on them, incorporating the changes you like into the habits of who you are. And so, once again in my life, NY is home, even though I’m inside buildings, wearing shoes, and averting my gaze from the barrage of advertising that is capitalism. 

I am grateful for my privilege, my choice, my adventures and experiences, the people I’ve crossed paths with and those I hold close, the times I cycled alone for hours being one with this planet, and feeling bold in the face of a plagued public education system while my brain fills with solutions for our children. 

“Change your thoughts and you change your world.” Norman Vincent Peele said this. He was the godfather, of sorts, of the power of positive thinking. 

What if school was playing in a forest all day?

School's Out: Lessons from a Forest Kindergarten (trailer)

This film looks amazing. These kids play in nature, learn through exploring, and are learning to learn! 

What if "homework" was about living life and learning yourself?

Instead of boring worksheets and more sitting(!!!), what if homework looked something like this:

1. Go Outside
2. Get Bored
3. Spend Time Alone
4. Read
5. Make Something
6. Write
7. Clear the Table (Contribute to your home/family)
8. Rest 

What if children explored some dangerous activities and instead of stopping them we joined them?

From the authors:

Fifty Dangerous Things (you should let your children do) is the first book from the people who created Tinkering School. With projects, activities, experiences, and skills ranging from “Superglue Your Fingers Together” to “Play with Fire,” along with 48 other great ideas, the book is a manifesto for kids and parents alike to reclaim childhood. Easy to follow instructions, fun facts, and challenging undertakings that will engage and inspire whole households.

Why Fifty Dangerous Things? First off, Five Dangerous Things just weren’t enough (although the audience at TED thought it was a good starting point). More importantly, there are many “dangerous” things that are interesting, eye-opening, enlightening or just plain fun! And while there are aspects of danger in virtually everything we do, the trick is to learn how mastery actually minimizes danger. Most of us learn how to walk without toppling over at a very young age, so that walking is no longer dangerous. Next we learn to negotiate stairs. Why stop there? Why not practice and become proficient at walking on the roof or walking on a tightrope? These are just a few of the Fifty Dangerous Things that we invite you to try.

What if half of the school day was outside play?

It's great to give students movement breaks, stay 5-minutes longer at recess, and even have standing desks, but Angela Hanscom, a pediatric occupational therapist, reminds us that children need to move. They need to develop body awareness, which inevitable improves learning. All of our systems are connected, remember? They all need to be nourished, and not just for a few extra minutes.

She writes:

In order to create actual changes to the sensory system that results in improved attention over time,  children NEED to experience what we call “rapid vestibular (balance) input” on a daily basis. In other words, they need to go upside down, spin in circles, and roll down hills. They need authentic play experiences that get them moving in all different directions in order to stimulate the little hair cells found in the vestibular complex (located in the inner ear). If children do this on a regular basis and for a significant amount of time, then (and only then) will they experience the necessary changes needed to effectively develop the balance system–leading to better attention and learning in the classroom.

So, what if half of the school day was outside play? 

Hills, trucks, strangers, and airplane wheels

tumblr_nwk7hq4vle1ray50qo1_1280.jpg
tumblr_nwk7hq4vle1ray50qo2_1280.jpg

I had really wanted to camp on this cycle trip of mine. Unfortunately for me, France is experiencing colder weather than usual for this time of year. My wonderful hosts in Lyon let me stay one more day to set up some more Warm Showers hosts for my trip down the Rhone River.

I headed out yesterday morning from Lyon. I was advised to take the train the first 20 kilometers as it’s industrial and there are no separate or scenic bike routes. I often don’t heed this advice as I enjoy seeing all the parts of a city: the center, the residential, the posh, the up-and-coming, the industrial, the suburban, even the highways and major intersections. You get a real feel for the people when you see the many different environments they create and how those places interact with each other: Are there clear boundaries? Does the friendliness of people change as the neighborhoods change? Do drivers and pedestrians smile back? What’s the sanitation like? The graffiti? The teenagers? The construction workers? The construction signs? These are all aspects of the culture of a people that we often don’t look for, yet they are the majority, the everyday, the this-is-what-we’re-like. If you combine this with the tourism side, the city center, the museums, you can really get a feel for their values, how they live, and how they want the world to see and think of them.  

Finally I met with the river in what looked on the map like a small city. I crossed over the river on a cute little pedestrian bridge into Vienne. I found a small shopping center, locked up the bike, found an all-you-can-eat Chinese buffet, and the center for tourism where I went first to get wifi locations and some route advice. The center had many young people working there who were all deeply apologetic and maybe even a bit embarrassed that there was almost no wifi in town. Not even there at the tourism center. They were, however, excited to tell me about the sign-posted, newly paved cycle route along the river that I could take for pretty much the next 300 km.

Before leaving Vienne I had to find some internet to contact my next hosts, get there exact address and find my route to them with the assistance of my phone’s GPS and the map app Pocket Earth. I stumbled into the “old city” filled with churches and even a courtyard with a small Pantheon. And there was Bar du Temple, what may have been the only bar/café in town with wifi. They seemed prepared for me: they gave me coffee and didn’t hesitate to charge my phone behind the bar while I took in the lunch crowd and slowly sipped a double-espresso.

Very soon after I found myself on a 2-meter wide bike path, just a bit higher than the river, with the changing autumn leaves, and not a soul in sight. I had the whole river to myself! It was very cold so I layered up and then I got lost in the scenery, void of vehicles, people, or noises other than nature. There was peace and calm and I couldn’t stop smiling; this was the adventure I had dreamed of when I first learned about cycle-touring; riding between water and farmland with the changing smells of nature.

Two hours and 40 km quickly passed. I ventured off the river route, called Via Rhona, into a hamlet to find my hosts. Without realizing it I had begun a steep ascent filled with very fast-moving cars and trucks zigzagging up and away. Quickly the shoulder I was riding on disappeared, and after my previous 70 km of the day I was exhausted. I was about 300 meters high and didn’t know how much further it or I could go. I could see on my map that I was only a few kilometers away from my host’s home. What to do?

Across the road was a truck, on a shoulder-pocket that seemed to be there just for emergencies. I waited for traffic to subside and hurried across. The driver was cleaning his dinner gear and getting ready to get back on the road to drive some Boeing wheels across Europe to get repaired. Most of his truck was empty and he graciously offered to drive me over the rest of the hill. It turned out to be only 1 km more, but 200 more meters high.

Finally I was on my bicycle on a back country road with 2 km to go. But the road was still slowly rising and I was more tired then ever. I cycled-and-paused probably 20 times. Unbeknownst to me, my host began to get worried and came out looking for me in his car. He found me and drove all of my bags to his house, riding slowly in front of me, cheering me on out his window. I was able to ride the last kilometer with all of my might, moving faster (without all of my gear!) up the slow gradient.

The young couple I stayed with live in the middle of nowhere, in a huge house (4 bedrooms!) in a hamlet, with a garden. They just turned 30. They have huge parties where they host all 30 of their friends for a weekend at a time, with friends sleeping everywhere. They moved here for a job opportunity. Plus it’s so inexpensive to live here. She’s an optician and he is a chemist who specialized in centrifuges. They come home for lunch. They are saving up to take off on a year-long journey comprised of cycling, hitchhiking, and a few different continents. We hit it off right away. They made me pumpkin soup and promised to show me a scenic bike path, down the hill, for the next part of my journey.

Once again I am humbled by the kindness in this world. Yes, the Warm Showers network is special in that we’ve had similar experiences and can guess, pretty accurately, the needs of each other. But everyone from the bartender who charged my phone, to the truck driver who gave me and my bike a ride, to these hosts for whom I was their first Warm Showers guest(!) treated me like family. With a quiet understanding, an extra blanket to sleep with, a cup of hot coffee waiting for me in the morning, and the knowledge that we are bound as members of humanity, we are connected. I could see these people at any time in my life and, again, we’d help each other out. And if we don’t see each other again, we know, at least, that we’re all continuing to connect with new people in an effort to make the world feel like one big community.

What if we reinvented the idea of family vacation and created an adventurous family lifestyle?

A young family takes their 4 year-old on hikes like the Appalachian Trail and the Pacific Crest Trail, instead of school. Together the family learns about nature, to take care of each other, to persevere through tough circumstances. Over time they are closer, more at ease with each other. What if we reinvented the idea of family vacation and, instead of taking a leisurely holiday with minimal family interaction, created an adventurous family lifestyle? What's really important, making money to sit on the beach at a resort, or making just enough money for food and emergencies and a life of exploring? 

http://www.backpacker.com/special-features/kindergarten-can-wait/

What if college students had to create public art projects that maximized social impact?

College students in Mumbai are addressing the needs of their city through school projects. They have created and implemented, with police support, murals, political commentary, repurposing of places that are frequently peed on (you read that right), and play spaces soliciting community feedback. They also created "The White Wall Project: A whitewashed wall, stage and canopy" to inspire gatherings, performances, and film screenings."

But my absolute favorite of these college students' projects were the ones that interacted directly with young children. They created playgrounds in the slums made from reused materials (tires, bamboo scaffolding). They hosted interactive art festivals fostering creative self-expression. And they performed plays inspired by the oral history of Mumbai on top of buildings next to public squares. Who said a rooftop can't be a stage?

Through these initiatives, read: university projects, these students have begun to transform the largest city in the world. Living in India I'm all too aware of the filth and forever-accumulating garbage in the streets preventing public gatherings. One college student began stenciling an image of Gandhi which ignited into a public-cleaning campaign and now, these inspiring college students, are also cleaning the streets of their beloved city. This is the next generation of India.

This is what higher education could be. 

The Sadhana Forest Tour (with me as your guide)

tumblr_nvcef1JjFB1ray50qo5_400.jpg
tumblr_nvcef1JjFB1ray50qo7_400.jpg
tumblr_nvcef1JjFB1ray50qo8_400.jpg
tumblr_nvcef1JjFB1ray50qo2_400.jpg
tumblr_nvcef1JjFB1ray50qo4_400.jpg

THE SADHANA FOREST TOUR

My favorite part of volunteering at Sadhana Forest: giving a 2-hour tour of the community and our reforestation work, at least once per week, but often 2-3 times per week to school groups, tourists, and locals. I tell the stories that make up our history, the multitude of ways in which Sadhana Forest manages resources and conserves water, about our other projects inside India and around the world, the principles and values we live by, and our innovative, time-tested tree-planting methods. It’s exhilarating. I expend all of my energy and enthusiasm sharing with anywhere from 1-150 strangers at a time, what is so special about this place I call my home. I enjoy “reading” my audience and assuaging their potential boredom with humorous anecdotes. It’s such a great feeling to affect a huge group of people with laughter, and subtly encourage them to think about their effect on the environment and each other.

Side story: This also means that I’ve created a sort of celebrity for myself and can’t go anywhere within a 10-kilometer radius without being recognized. It’s lovely, it really is. But I know a bit what celebrities feel like now; sometimes I just want to be anonymous and drink a cup of coffee in a café while reading or drawing. Quiet time, you know? My best Kate-sighting experience occurred when I was looking for an art store in Pondicherry and I stopped into a random clothing shop to ask for directions. The man behind the counter smiled a huge smile and whipped out his phone to show me a video of ME doing the tour at Sadhana Forest! He then proceeded to walk me to the art store I was looking for. Super kind and wonderful. (And a bit scary that strangers have videos of me speaking about reforestation. Things I never dreamed of.)

What if all products had to be disassemble-able so they could have multiple lives?

What if we exposed children to the idea that resources are finite, and products become obsolete too quickly? What if we challenged children to create products from their previous counterparts? What if all products had to be disassemble-able so they could have multiple lives? Wait a minute! Children naturally do this! They takes things apart and put them back together and take them apart and make new things! This is a huge conversation that, I believe, we should be having with children. Let's inspire them to create not just from what we already have, but with the idea that what they create will not be an end in itself.

In this video they explore the idea that products should be made in a way that make them easily disassemble-able so they can go back to their manufacturer at the end of their life to be reused in new incarnations. I like the idea of companies re-hacking their own products. 

What if students engaged in their own community re-purposing, co-creating their environments through street art and getting to know their neighbors?


What if students engaged in their own community re-purposing, co-creating their environments through street art and getting to know their neighbors? 

I am so inspired by Candy Chang. She creates community forums in unused public spaces that bring people and ideas closer together. What if students were exposed to the following projects and challenged to engage their communities through unused public spaces? 

Here are my Candy Change favorites: 

Before I Die is probably Candy's most widespread project. It turns the side of an abandoned building into a chalkboard of wishes, dreams, and bucket lists. The project gained so much popularity that Candy designed stencil kits, in different languages, that she sends around the world, upon request, so that "Before I Die" walls can be recreated elsewhere. What a way to share with and inspire your neighbors and motivate yourself to follow your dreams! 

Neighborland is "an online/public installation tool for civic collaboration. Organizations can ask questions to their community about the places they care about. These questions are tied to real world projects so residents’ ideas and feedback will lead to change." Say what? The people have a voice? And someone wants to listen? Hell yeah! This project aims to solve local issues through community feedback. One example asked for ways to make a particular street safer. 

Community Chalkboards "provide residents with a free and accessible platform to publicize events, post jobs, ask questions, and self-organize... Inspired by a community chalkboard in Liberia by Alfred Sirleaf." What a way to repurpose the chalkboard! In small communities, particularly where not everyone has internet access, a community events chalkboard is a brilliant way to gather your neighbors and share. 

This installation consisted of a wall of post-it notes that were pre-stamped with fill-in-the-blank statements about the number of rooms in your apartment and how much you pay in rent. I love that this installation seeks information that neighbors are too shy to ask each other but really want to know. This was inspired by the Illegal Art "To Do" project, which created a mural of post-it notes in the shape of the words "TO DO" so that passersby could share their daily "to do" lists. After all, we all have them, right? 


What if schools were noisy, open-air laboratories with no set schedules?

What if schools were open-air laboratories with no set schedules? What if there were no walls and students could come and go freely, attending to their emotional needs? What if some of the students' needs were anticipated like tree-climbing and the ability to dangle your legs from high places? What if nature and physical activity were built into your school day, and your school? What if you had to climb a tree to get to class and take a slide out of it? 

In his TED talk, The Best Kindergarten You've Ever Seen, Takaharu Tezuka reminds us that children can become anxious in silent, sterile environments. And they thrive when given space and some stimulating background noise. He argues for intentionally-designed child-centered spaces that meet the needs of students while also creating a safe space. Think about it: a circular school so kids can run and run without leaving the school. Brilliant! 

Something else of note is that instead of a sink in the corner of the room, Tezuka puts them in the middle, allowing space for many children to use it at once, thus expanding the utility of the sink. It becomes not just a place for washing up, but a place for play, chatter, and the talk-around-the-water-cooler social phenomenon. 

Snippets from One Week at Sadhana Forest

Sunday we heard moo-ing in the community. We found several cows chilling in the grass, munching away, meandering over to our dish wash stations to have a drink. We chased four out. Six came back. It took two hours but we got them all out. The 8 dogs who live with us only helped once the cows were in the parking lot, barking out something like, “And don’t you come back!”

Monday some workers came to build us a roof out of TetraPak sheets. These are TetraPak (soy milk, juice) boxes that get compressed and then heated with resin to make construction boards. They are a great packaging tool because they are made of recycled materials, pack efficiently, and weigh considerable less than glass. But because they are a combination of materials they can’t be recycled. However, they can be made into construction boards over and over again. Most of the roof will be corrugated sheets but the peak of the roof will be a flat sheet that is bent with heat. The workers proudly showed me their very inexpensive blowtorch. I asked them to wait while I got a fire extinguisher. As I came back they were lighting the blowtorch, setting the surrounding grass and dead leaves on fire, and in the nick of time I blew out their flame.

Tuesday I heard a weird beeping sound. I tried to follow it and got tangled in thorny weeds that sliced my ankles. I went back for the police. We followed the sound. The police laughed. It was just a bird. (I swear it sounds mechanical).

Wednesday I gave a tour to a group of visiting businessmen. Halfway through I explain about our community values, one of which is to be substance-free both in and out of the community while you are volunteering. This includes cigratettes, alcohol and drugs. At this point the businessmen begin to pull packs of cigarettes out of their pockets. They are surprised that I haven’t telepathically figured out that they all work for big tobacco. They begin telling me that big tobacco is good for everything; it’s responsible for the clothes I’m wearing, the shampoo I use, and the food I eat. Yeah right.

Thursday, despite the community being fenced in and policed 24/7, someone broke in and raided my hut. I climbed my ladder and saw it: a condom and wrapper strung out on my floor. I glanced beyond to my bed, which was tousled. Oh no, I thought, volunteers are having sex in my bed. Then I noticed my NorthFace backpack was gone. My sleeping bag was gone. Some silver rings and necklaces, nothing fancy or expensive but sentimental nonetheless, were gone. My sex toys and condoms were gone. Ok, pause for some backstory. The volunteers here get frisky sometimes. Rather than sleep with each other, which could cause tension, not to mention the spread of STDs, I encourage them to have some fun alone. This idea came from a volunteer, much younger than me, from Norway where there is a much more liberal sexual culture. She thought the toys would come in handy and offered me a healthy supply. I’d given several away throughout the year. I guess she was right! As I sat deciding whether to file a police report I began to laugh. What if this robbery causes a sexual revolution in a nearby village in this country of repressed sexuality? I could be an anonymous local hero!

Friday night is our Eco Film Club. We are showing a movie about animal communication that has drawn a larger-than-usual crowd. There also happens to be a crazy windy storm that is whipping the screen around and our volume is up to drown out the rain and wind. The movie ends and we serve dinner. One of my fellow volunteers calls me outside to our dish wash station.  A tree has split and fallen on our dish wash station, which just happens to have electricity for lights. I get 2 more volunteers, a machete, and some large clippers. I shut off the power and we cut large branches, climb trees to chop the split all the way, and rebuild a light station out of solar lanterns. The teamwork is golden. We finish up by clearing away the large branches. As we walk in slow motion, like superheroes returning from a victory, our guests come to wash their plates and it’s like we were never there and nothing was ever wrong. We sit down and each eat 2 plates of dinner.

Birds Surround

tumblr_nq66jvTqRI1ray50qo1_1280.jpg
tumblr_nq66jvTqRI1ray50qo2_1280.jpg

Almost every morning I hear a clacking sound like a baby woodpecker pecking plastic. For days I couldn’t figure it out. Then I caught them in action. The hummingbirds are pecking at themselves in my mirror! What do they think they see? Other hummingbirds? Are they trying to free them? It’s so perplexing!

As the summer is here in full swing I’ve seen so many different birds. There are the crows that imitate every other bird, birds that sound like they’re screaming “vegan!”, little brightly colored fast-swooping birds, and medium-size black and white quick-and-straight-as-an-arrow flying birds. There are peacock families who always look surprised to see me, and occasionally a small owl in the trees.

After returning from a recent trip I found an empty bird’s nest hanging under my hut with its hard oval exterior of intertwined twigs and soft feather-wallpaper inside. At night while brushing my teeth I took another peek. There was a small bird sitting inside with a long, crooked beak. This bird came back every night for weeks. If I got too close it would quickly dart out, always returning the next evening. And then, one day, it was gone.

How much water can you really conserve?

tumblr_npz2pcINTf1ray50qo6_1280.jpg
tumblr_npz2pcINTf1ray50qo2_1280.jpg
tumblr_npz2pcINTf1ray50qo5_1280.jpg
tumblr_npz2pcINTf1ray50qo4_1280.jpg
tumblr_npz2pcINTf1ray50qo1_1280.jpg
tumblr_npz2pcINTf1ray50qo3_1280.jpg

Informational Signage

I believe in informational signage.
Signage that teaches.
Signage that shows you another perspective.
Signage that is clever.

Halfway through my year at Sadhana Forest I began thinking about ways to make the physical community “show” more. 

As a visual learner I know that many people need to see something and allow it time to sink it. Visuals create repetition, which create habit. You can already experience Sadhana Forest through taking a tour and hearing about all of the ways we’re sustainable, reading about it on our website, taking photos when you visit, and absorbing it through experience. Now you can also get the numbers, the cold, hard statistics. 

In an effort to increase ecological awareness through resource management, the “why” of our community actions, I researched, designed and painted these informational boards, using materials from our Recycling Hut.

Timelapse Video: TetraPaks and Community

In light of our efforts to be sustainable through experimentation, Sadhana Forest is rebuilding some roofs with compressed TetraPak sheets. The truck left Mumbai on Monday at midnight and arrived to us (almost 1,300 km) by 8pm on Wednesday. This video serves as a testament to the TEAMWORK at Sadhana Forest in unloading 13 tons of roofing sheets in 3 hours.