Rousseau stressed: education should be for nature, by nature, through nature, and of nature. Local picnics should be made mandatory and part of the timetable—with no financial burden on parents. They can easily be managed.
Muntashir Kifayat Hussain
The other day, we at our secondary school—Boys High School, Narbal—decided on a Saturday outing to the Sozeith playground, travelling on foot through the small lanes of farmland. The motive was to connect our students with nature in addition to getting some physical exercise. I was hesitant to walk longer distances at first, but my colleagues motivated me. The students were very happy and observed the farmers toiling in the open sunlight. The beauty of nature also erased the bad phobia of a long walk from my mind. It was ecstatic all around.
We kept walking amid the chirping of birds, hearing the melodious sounds of different species. It is rightly said that wisdom tends to reveal itself when the world slows down. While walking, I found the students very happy. Perhaps nature’s heritage was in full swing—the rhythm, resilience, wisdom, and salvation that live in the land and in us. Some students were keenly observing the farmers working in the fields, perhaps feeling the toil of their own parents, proving the law of nature that teaches both directly and indirectly.
About two kilometres from our school, we found ourselves amid trees and farmers. Everyone was smiling with nature. It reminded me of one of my topics in biochemistry: that exposure to natural environments lowers cortisol levels, reduces anxiety, and enhances focus, aiding in better cognitive development and academic performance.
On the way, while walking, the students began discussing the trees, the different birds, the different ways of farming—everything they found around them. Even my colleagues participated in the discussion. This reminded me of Rousseau. Rousseau stressed the physical environment: education should be for nature, by nature, through nature, and of nature.
It reminded me of my childhood primary classes, when we were taken on outings to local parks through narrow paths of paddy farmland, wearing Scottish kilts—knee-length pants—carrying a kerosene stove, moving while shouting “left, right, left, right, left, right…” with the birds singing and chirping alongside us. There was no barrier between us and nature. Nature opened its pages and taught us all the way through. We could see real fruits, real paddy, real plants, and real birds. Even in the afternoon, I often saw my world—my mother—hiding behind the bushes, silently accompanying me to the local park, caring for my safety.
This is different from today’s artificial world, where an innocent baby in kindergarten is taught deception at the very first stage of learning by being shown plastic fruits, birds, plants, and animals—all artificial. Even milk is fed to a toddler from a plastic bottle. Then we start crying for affection and love from children. Nature does not deceive. Nurture is kind. It teaches, and teaches, and teaches. Only we, as parents and educators, need to do away with this artificial world.
After walking about four kilometres, we reached our destination: a huge ground at Sozeith. There was greenery everywhere, surrounded by willow trees. The ground lies on the banks of the world-famous Hokersar wetland, known as the Queen of Wetlands in Kashmir—a premier bird-watching site and a crucial habitat for migratory birds. The students felt ecstatic. They opened their sports kits and began playing in this beautiful natural setting.
Near the periphery of the ground, a group of primary class students from another school caught my eye. I moved towards them and watched them from a distance. I could see nature at her best—the best guide and educator.
– A child aged about seven years was inquiring about the birds swimming.
– Another was asking about the willow tree and its uses.
– Another, aged about ten years, was trying to climb a tilted willow tree.- Another inquired about the bending of trees in the wind. The reply came: “Bending makes trees strong; they learn to endure pain.”
– Then came another question from a child aged about eight years: “How old is this willow tree?” The answer: “Twenty years, perhaps. Trees take time to grow and become stronger,” replied a ten-year-old child.
The cognitive development was at its best.
After a few minutes, a child aged about six years raised her voice: “Let us have lunch!” All these innocent children surrounded her, carrying their lunch boxes. They formed a circle, sat down, and opened their boxes. My curiosity grew, and I went closer to them. I could see them sharing food, water, and salad. The one who had no water to drink was instantly provided for by the others.
In this natural setting, they learned in a moment what could be taught over years through books. Nature acts as a profound teacher, offering lessons of interconnectedness, empathy, and community.
Finally, we left this beautiful place and returned to our school with yet another effective lesson taught by nature.
These local picnics are so important for students that they should be made mandatory and part of the timetable—with no financial burden on parents. They can easily be managed.
Nature teaches by providing masterclass settings in calmness, resilience, empathy, and beauty. We learn to embrace change and work in harmony with others. Artificial settings make us cunning, intolerant, and aversive. We are filled with hatred and jealousy. We start hating the creatures of nature.
The writer is a teacher at Boys High School, Narbal
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