When Maya is about two months old, I gradually start working from home again. Luckily, she’s a good napper. But as she approaches the six-month mark it gets increasingly hard for me to get work done, and I sometimes need to travel for interviews and work-related events. It’s time to get a part-time babysitter. As is often the case in small towns, childcare is mainly provided by relatives, churches, or stay-at-home moms who are looking to make a little extra money. There are also a few larger in-home day cares run by older women with grown children. After some searching and asking around, I find a sweet young woman who has a son Maya’s age. She and her husband have recently moved to town and she’s planning to watch only a few children to make a little extra grocery money. The house that they rent is small but clean, and adjoining it is a large fenced-in backyard where I envision Maya tumbling around with her new little friends. Perfect.
It doesn’t take long before I realize that while Scandinavian parents obsess over their kids getting outside to play every day, this is not necessarily the cultural norm here. Maya is not getting out nearly as much as I had hoped; instead, she seems to be spending her days mostly watching TV. When winter rolls around, outdoor playtime grinds to a total halt. Granted, this is not completely the babysitter’s fault: A lot of times the other kids in the group arrive in the morning with no jacket and wearing only thin sneakers, which are not really conducive to rolling around in the snow or stomping in mud. The parents clearly had no expectation of them going outside and dressed them accordingly. Playing outside in the winter, I figure, must not be a thing here.
To cure my guilt for Maya’s lack of outdoor playtime at day care, I take her for hikes and walks as often as I can. When she is almost a year old, I’m walking her to the sitter’s house on a beautiful but cold winter day when a white SUV pulls up next to us and a woman who looks to be in her fifties rolls down the window and pops out her head. “Do you need a ride, hon? It’s really cold out there,” she says. I thank her for the offer but politely decline. “We’re both well bundled up and I enjoy the fresh air,” I tell her. “Are you sure?” she says, looking genuinely alarmed. She drives off with a puzzled look on her face, and I can tell that the idea that I would voluntarily take my daughter for a walk in fifteen-degree weather (−9°C) is beyond her. I’m equally surprised that a complete stranger would offer a ride to me, my baby, a decent-size stroller, and one ginormous diaper bag. Getting that kind of mess into my own car seemed like hard work a lot of the time. As it turns out, this will not be the last time a friendly Midwesterner takes pity on me.
When Maya is three years old and the locals are finally starting to get used to my entourage, her little sister, Nora, is born. Getting around town on foot with a new baby in the mix takes some ingenuity. I order a stroller board—a platform with wheels that attaches to the back of the stroller—which allows Maya to ride behind her sister either standing or sitting while Nora is lying in the stroller. Once again, in Sweden this is not an uncommon way for parents to get around with multiple children, but here it’s a surefire way of flying your freak flag. With the two dogs in one hand and the stroller in the other, I don’t just cause people to turn their heads. They roll down their car windows and tell me they wish they had their camera. One morning, a woman walking a small dog on the other side of the street actually pulls out her cell phone and snaps a picture of us, as if we were an exotic exhibit at the zoo.
That fall, Maya starts preschool and I get a chance to meet some more parents. At the school’s Thanksgiving party, I’m chatting with some other moms, when the grandmother of one of Maya’s classmates approaches me. She’s one of the involved grandmothers, one who regularly drops off and picks up her grandson, Alex, from school, keeps tabs on the other kids, and always shows up to every class party. “I’ve been thinking about you,” she says sympathetically. “Really?” I say, puzzled. I can’t think of a single reason why this woman, whom I have talked to only a couple of times, would be thinking of me. I haven’t been thinking of her. In all honesty, I can’t even remember her name. “I’ve seen you walking in the cold,” she says. “I wish I could offer you a ride, but Alex’s mother never lets me know until the last minute whether she wants me to take him to school.” I still don’t know where she’s going with this, or why she thinks I would want or need a ride, but I explain that I live only half a mile from the school and don’t mind the walk. “Well, I still wish there was something I could do to help,” she says. I nod, smile politely, and change the subject. Not until I get home does it dawn on me that she probably thinks I don’t own a car and have no choice but to walk in the cold.
The Outdoor Recess That Wasn’t
* * *
Unstructured nature play is not just key to raising children who will care about nature—it’s also essential to their personal health. The World Health Organization calls childhood obesity “one of the most serious public health challenges of the twenty-first century,” as it is believed to be a risk factor for diabetes, heart disease, and high blood pressure later in life. It takes only a quick peek into the average American elementary school classroom to understand the proportions of this epidemic. As my daughters’ pediatrician, Dr. Sean Sharma, puts it: “A generation ago, there were maybe one or two overweight or obese children in a class of twenty. Today, being overweight is so common that the normal kids sometimes are the ones that stand out. Our expectations have changed: Overweight is the new normal.”
Statistics from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention show that childhood obesity has almost tripled in children and quadrupled in adolescents in the past thirty years. In 1980, approximately 7 percent of American children age six to eleven years were obese; in 2012, that number was nearly 18 percent. Among adolescents age twelve to nineteen years, the obesity rate increased from 5 percent to nearly 21 percent in the same period. When you include figures for those who are simply overweight as well, more than one-third of American children are considered overweight or obese. That means children in the US are nearly six times more likely to be obese and nearly twice as likely to be overweight as children in Sweden. Similarly, approximately 11 percent of American children between the ages of four and seventeen have been diagnosed with ADHD, whereas only 3 to 6 percent of school-age children in Sweden are estimated to meet the criteria for the disorder. Although the number of ADHD diagnoses has increased in Sweden in the past few years, too, the incidence is well below the US trend. When combined with children on the autism spectrum, as many as one in six American children have a developmental disability, representing a 17 percent increase between 1997 and 2008, according to a 2011 study by the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. Meanwhile, a 2009 study showed that the prevalence of myopia, or nearsightedness, increased from 25 percent in 1971–72 to nearly 42 percent in 1999–2004. The fact that children spend more time indoors is believed to be the main culprit behind this increase. Sensory issues are on the rise as well, with more young children than ever before needing occupational therapy, speech therapy, and physical therapy, even at the preschool level.
Outdoor play can help combat childhood obesity as well as sensory issues and myopia, and many studies have shown that spending time in nature improves ADHD symptoms. Even so, it seemed to me like the deck was stacked against outdoor play in many parts of the US. With no uniform rules guiding outdoor play at day cares and no cultural norms calling for it, I noticed that toddlers and preschoolers were more likely to spend their days watching TV or trying to get to the next level of Candy Crush Saga on their handheld electronic devices than connecting with nature. Over and over, I saw infants strapped into their car seats parked right in front of a TV, their inquisitive gazes and developing minds feeding on an unending string of cartoons and commercials. Older children didn’t seem to fare much better, as recess, a source of outdoor play that I had taken for granted, was far from guaranteed in American schools. With this in mind, I’m relieved to hear that Maya will at least get two fifteen-minute recess periods every day w
hen she starts kindergarten, which is a pretty intense, all-day affair in Indiana. At least she’ll get them through second grade. And as long as the weather is nice. On paper the students are supposed to have recess outside if the temperature is above twenty degrees (−6.6°C) with wind chill. In reality, however, I find that there are many exceptions to the rule and that the arrival of winter is seen less as an invitation to go outside and make snow angels and more as a signal to bring out the iPads. Weather isn’t even the only factor affecting recess: I’m surprised to learn that it can also be withheld as a disciplinary tool to penalize individual students or an entire class for things like talking during lunch or not listening to the teacher. Similar offenses can also be punished by making the children spend the first part of recess standing still on a yellow line on the blacktop. The first time it happens I brush it off, thinking that maybe Maya misunderstood the situation. But as it turns out, it won’t be the last.
These types of restrictions on outdoor play are far from unique for Maya’s school. In fact, recess seems to be under attack across the US. In 1989, according to one survey, 96 percent of all elementary schools in the US offered recess every day, but this has changed drastically over the past twenty-five years as many school districts have cut it or eliminated it altogether. Today only 40 percent of American school systems even have an explicit recess policy, and minorities and children living in poverty are less likely to have recess than white students and those living above the poverty line.
It doesn’t take long before Maya starts complaining about not getting outside during the school day. The transition from preschool to full-day kindergarten has been rough anyway, and often she falls apart in the car on the way home, exhausted. Indoor recess is not helping. “I don’t like being inside all day. It’s boring,” she tells me one day. And then, even more crushing, “I hate school.”
When I bring up the subject of the lack of recess with a couple of the teachers, I learn that it’s hard on some of them too. “We try to get out most days unless it’s too cold or rainy,” one of them says. “But sometimes we don’t go outside for a week and it’s awful, because the kids have all this pent-up energy. We don’t have any space for them inside, so we usually just end up showing them a movie.” Another problem, they tell me, is that children occasionally show up to school without appropriate outdoor clothes. The school tries to provide gloves and hats for those who need them, but sometimes kids show up without even jackets.
To my surprise, the teachers tell me that parents’ attitudes toward outdoor recess also seem to have changed over the years. “Parents give the teachers grief if they send the kids out in the cold,” one of them says. “We’ve got some parents lining up on the street to pick up their kids early, and if they see us out on the playground when it’s drizzling, they’ll call the office and demand that we bring the kids inside. We’ve had parents call and tell us to bring them inside just because there were dark clouds in the sky.”
This parental anxiety in turn fuels schools’ fear of lawsuits. What if Johnny slips on the ice or Lisa freezes her fingers while playing on the monkey bars in the cold? Better safe than sorry. And the safest option of all seems to be to keep them inside, playing computer games. I’m not surprised to hear that some children hardly know how to play outside anymore. “They don’t even know how to play Red Rover; that’s what we used to play all the time,” one teacher tells me. “One day I thought I would teach them, but I was pulled aside by somebody else who told me, ‘You know they’re not supposed to play that anymore, right?’ Apparently somebody broke their arm, so now nobody is allowed to do it.”
Games that involve balls, snow, or ice are even more likely to be restricted. Forget snowball fights, King of the Mountain, and sliding on frozen puddles of water—these activities have all been banned in the name of safety. This leaves the teachers in a tough spot. “I hate when it snows, because all I have to do is run around and tell the kids what they can’t do,” says one veteran teacher. When I ask her if the kids are allowed to play on the ice, she laughs, but it’s a sarcastic laughter. “Ice? Well, a kid fell on the ice and hit his head. He got a little goose egg and had to go to the nurse. Now the kids can’t play on the ice anymore. It’s all about safety.”
My talks with Maya’s school regarding recess go nowhere, so instead I take my effort to promote outdoor play and learning to the Parent Teacher Organization, or PTO. Outdoor classrooms are just starting to become popular, and at one of the meetings I share my vision for a space where the students can learn hands-on in a natural setting. Imagine a butterfly garden! A reading nook! Stepping-stones! A building area! The responses from the other parents range from silence and mild skepticism to implicit opposition. The principal, however, is cautiously supportive, and I do find an ally among the teachers, who loves the idea. Over the next school year, I launch into full gear. I survey the teachers, bring in a designer, and work on cost estimates. The survey shows that a slim majority of the teachers like the idea, but many share the same main concern: How would they possibly fit teaching outdoors into their already packed schedules? “I believe an outdoor classroom would benefit children in all areas,” writes one teacher, “but I don’t see our requirements getting decreased, so I can’t imagine when we would use it.”
The principal puts together a committee of three teachers tasked with developing a plan for an outdoor classroom at a grassy lot on the north side of the school. But the idea never gains momentum and eventually the whole project peters out. At one of the last PTO meetings of the year, two parents suggest that, instead of creating an outdoor classroom, the school pave the grassy lot over and turn it into a parking lot. When I run into a fellow PTO member a few weeks later, she tells me that the group ultimately decided to spend that year’s funds on electronics. “We ended up buying a set of Chromebooks for the second graders. They will be on a cart, so the first graders and kindergartners will be able to use them too,” she says. I must have looked disappointed, because then she shrugs and adds, as if to explain, “These are the times we live in, you know.”
DRESS FOR OUTDOOR SUCCESS
A comfortable child can play outside for hours, so high-quality outdoor gear and play clothes are well worth the money. If the clothes are durable, chances are they can also be handed down to younger siblings.
Any advice about dressing children for the outdoors naturally depends on what they will be doing and where. For example, going on a long hike in the mountains or participating in other strenuous activities away from home requires more attention to layering than playing in the backyard. The child’s age also matters, since young children move around less and get cold more easily. Keep in mind that weather conditions can change quickly in some areas, and always bring some backup clothes for longer outings.
What to look for in outdoor gear and play clothes for children in general:
• Protects against the elements (wind, sun, moisture, cold temperatures, etc.)
• Stands up to wear and tear
• Easy to put on and take off
• Loose-fitting enough to allow for range of motion while playing
Winter
Layering clothes is key to keeping children warm in cold temperatures.
• The first layer, or the base layer, regulates the child’s temperature and keeps him dry. This layer usually fits snugly. Long underwear made from merino wool, synthetic fibers, or a blend of both works best closest to the body, since these materials move perspiration away from the body. Cotton, on the other hand, soaks up moisture and leaves the child feeling wet and cold.
• The mid-layer insulates the body by trapping body heat in pockets of air in the fabric. This layer can be made of either natural or synthetic fibers and can, for example, consist of a fleece jacket and pants or a sweatshirt and sweatpants.
• The outer layer should be waterproof, windproof, and breathable. This layer also needs to stand up to some wear and tear and is typically made of polyamide or nylon, preferably
with reinforced high-impact areas like knees and bottom. For the youngest children, one-piece coveralls are usually the best choice, since they are easy to put on and prevent snow from creeping in. Underfoot straps help keep the coveralls/snow pants in place, and reflective trim or a high-visibility vest are a must for outdoor adventures after dark. Combine with snow boots or fleece-lined rain boots, as well as waterproof mittens with long cuffs, and a hat.
Spring and Fall
The same layering principles apply as for winter, but with lighter or fewer layers.
• For rainy days, the Scandinavian-style heavy-duty rain gear sometimes seen at forest schools in the US is the ultimate outer layer. Typically sold as a set consisting of overalls (bib pants) and a jacket, and made of polyester and polyurethane blends, these garments do a great job of keeping wind and rain out. Layer them with a fleece jacket in cooler temperatures and combine them with a pair of rugged rain boots for endless fun in puddles of mud.
• For dry days, use regular, breathable shell pants and a windbreaker for the outer layer. Even if the temperature doesn’t call for shell pants, they save your child’s regular clothes from getting stained and torn.
Summer
Make a mental breakdown of your child’s wardrobe into “playclothes” and “school clothes” to avoid stressing over damage wrought by messy outdoor play. Hand-me-downs, yard sale finds, and older clothes with holes or stains that won’t come out make excellent candidates for playclothes.
There’s No Such Thing as Bad Weather Page 3
