Concurrent with exasperation over the details of Cambridge’s erstwhile plastic bag ban (progress toward which has been stymied, this time, by a snowstorm cancellation) is a relevant exhibit by Cambridge sculptor Michelle Lougee at Simmons College’s Trustman Gallery. Lougee’s work, much of which is painstakingly forged from plastic bags, is not a tsk-tsk. Instead she fingers a delicate boundary between horror and love. The horror at the enormity of our cumulative acts of ransacking is there for the taking, if one is so inclined. But the work is also a love story, a paean to the organic forms (and vicissitudes) of nature—even as they are refracted through the lens of our plastic addiction.
This exhibit goes beyond some of her other recent collections, however. From the catalogue:
Lougee is also showing a series of drawings, not made with traditional materials but with her signature bags, layering elements like papyrus paper and fabric with the “line” created by stitching. These textural works evoke microscopic structures, suggesting an underlying, unseen world that is bulging with possibilities and life.
To me, the work evokes Alexander Calder and Jean Arp, but is distinctly situated in a 21st century conflict— in a world of “advanced” materials science.
David Sobel’s piece “Look, Don’t Touch” in Orion Magazine has shaken up the small world of my little nature club and the big world of the Get Outdoors movement. I’ve just discovered Living On Earth‘s interview with Sobel, here.
If you haven’t had a chance to read the Orion essay, here’s the kernel of Sobel’s argument: “rule-bound” environmental education, in which kids are prohibited from picking, touching, messing about, disrupts the natural mechanisms that connect young children with nature for life and lead to strong environmental values in adulthood. He goes so far as to say, in the aforementioned radio interview, that berry-picking and mushrooming with parents, i.e., natural resource consumption as a focal point of nature experiences, has shown to have the most power. Much food for thought, there.
Here’s something I’ve been considering a lot lately. How does environmental stewardship develop, exactly? Where is that sweet spot between the lure of science as a discipline and the pleasures, and love, of the outdoors? David Sobel’s take:
Most environmentalists attributed their commitment to a combination of two sources, “many hours spent outdoors in a keenly remembered wild or semi-wild place in childhood or adolescence, and an adult who taught respect for nature.” Involvement with organizations like Scouts or environmental clubs was cited by significantly fewer of the respondents. Chawla found that environmentalists talk about free play and exploration in nature, and family members who focused their attention on plants or animal behavior. They don’t talk much about formal education and informal nature education. Only in late childhood and adolescence do summer camp, teachers, and environmental clubs start to show up as being contributors to the individual’s environmental values and behaviors. It seems that allowing children to be “untutored savages” early on can lead to environmental knowledge in due time.
Meanwhile, back on the ranch, later today I’m meeting with teachers to develop a several-hour visit for a mixed-age, Montessori fourth and fifth grade class to a restored pond habitat. It’s to be an experience to feature Kingdom Protista—a la Montessori and Big Picture Science—in its finest.
One of these days I’ll understand how my past as an Africanist historian funneled me bass-ackwards into being an amateur urban habitat ecologist…but not right now—for it’s time to bring on those elegant, silent Protists.
Cambridge, Mass.’s Healthy Children Task Force (HCTF) examined Adverse Childhood Experiences (ACES) throughout the 2012-2013 school year as its window onto child and youth wellness.
Pardon me. That lead sentence should have read:
You have deep, deep problems. But our time is up.
Let me explain.
ACES sure has that wonky ring to it—just another one of those nasty healthcare sector acronyms. It’s as if we can cure a problem faster if we can say it faster. Experiencing abuse or neglect or growing up with an imprisoned parent are the more obvious ACES, but there is fuller list. Are they the lodestone of prevention measures, or hype? Researchers at Kaiser Permanente and the CDC have indeed correlated various concatenations of early trauma experiences with graded levels of risk behaviors and disease in adulthood, showing that the childhood end of the timeline can make or break the health of an individual years later. The study surveyed 17,000 adults.
HCTF gatherings are lunchtime meetings, both efficient and informal, punctuated with the occasional repartee and salad fork sounds. The city staff from all reaches of Cambridge together to learn about a particular concept, problem, or perspective. Interested public school parents like myself sometimes attend, but most often you’ll see school committee members, Cambridge Health Alliance staff, a random sampler of clinicians, nutritionists, early childhood education specialists, MPHs, and people whose jobs are more on the front lines of defending the mental and physical health of urban youth and kids.
It’s a bit odd to sit in that windowless room around a square of conference tables, as I do every few months, thinking to myself, “Does anyone else in the room feel like there’s no air in here—no bit of sky to see?”
The reason I’m in that room is to understand how we could give a jumpstart to kids’ wellness with a particular prescription: Cambridge’s vast and vastly under-appreciated open spaces. By open spaces I don’t mean the manicured parks, nor the new artificially turfed soccer fields rimmed with highly adaptable trees. I don’t mean our city’s many beloved pocket parks, whimsical playgrounds, or the CitySprouts gardens that thrive at every public school in Cambridge. Those outdoor resources are indispensable in their own right.
I’m thinking of those areas that—whether ecologically restored and kept in shape by human labor (think Lusitania Meadow) or not (think parts of Alewife Reservation)— provide shelter to animals, old specimen trees, and serve as wildlife corridors. I’m thinking of places where a child can run, not just a few hundred yards, but perhaps a bit farther.
Perhaps in such places, a kid can even slip away to the secret folds of the woods where play and fantasy (as well as jeans) are smudged with dirt and broken wild berries. I’m thinking of the abandoned farm next door to my third-grade friend’s house, the trees we climbed there, the territories we invented in its spaciousness.
We have the equivalent of such places here. It’s good for all kids. My theory is that they offer something more to certain kids—a kind of complementary therapy for children who experience trauma, or who may do so in their future. Open spaces could be a kind of medicine—not as panacea, but as kind of pemmican for childhood’s journey. Richard Louv has recently commented
parks with the richest biodiversity appear to have a positive impact on psychological well-being and social bonding among humans. Those
While we can’t say with certainty that these influences play a direct role in early brain development, it’s fair to suggest that the presence of nature can soften the blow of toxic stress in early childhood and throughout our lives. It’s understandable that researchers have yet to explore the natural world’s impact on brain development because the topic itself is rather new. Also, scientists have a hard time coming up with an agreed-upon definition of nature – or of life itself.
Brain research has also contributed to an understanding of the role of trauma in health. ACES Too High News, a blog devoted to the unfolding view of the original ACES study and its offshoots, reports:
Children with toxic stress live much of their lives in fight, flight or fright (freeze) mode. They respond to the world as a place of constant danger. With their brains overloaded with stress hormones and unable to function appropriately, they can’t focus on learning. They fall behind in school or fail to develop healthy relationships with peers or create problems with teachers and principals because they are unable to trust adults. Some kids do all three. With despair, guilt and frustration pecking away at their psyches, they often find solace in food, alcohol, tobacco, methamphetamines, inappropriate sex, high-risk sports, and/or work and over-achievement. They don’t regard these coping methods as problems. Consciously or unconsciously, they use them as solutions to escape from depression, anxiety, anger, fear and shame.
What all this means…is that we need to prevent adverse childhood experiences and, at the same time, change our systems – educational, criminal justice, healthcare, mental health, public health, workplace – so that we don’t further traumatize someone who’s already traumatized.
Resiliency, of course, is a factor that cuts across exposure to different levels of trauma. Arming children (and adults) with the building blocks of resiliency could be a critical corollary of identifying the many faces of trauma. Nature alone may not lead to resiliency, but I’d be willing to bet that it could play a significant role, and without side effects.
Giving kids a chance to spend regular and sufficient time in full-fledged habitats, more wild than not, isn’t possible in many cities. Even here in Cambridge, our habitats of caliber lie mostly in the north and west of the city, with little to no functional habitat in East Cambridge, Cambridgeport, Riverside, Central Square, and adjacent areas. To Though I enjoy and value Northpoint Park myself, it doesn’t provide East Cambridge residents the equivalent of what Fresh Pond Reservation does to its neighbors. The Charles River Reservation is a critical open space for its adjacent communities, and meets the needs for respite and democratic enjoyment of nature. The more intact habitat within it, however, is concentrated in the western part of the city.
The HCTF members have immersed themselves in the subterranean factors that make a child an unhealthy adult. These same factors make it difficult if not impossible to learn at school, particularly if the child is inadvertently re-traumatized by unaware teacher or youth workers. Staff of agencies and departments that work with children and youth are getting an overview of the teachings of the ACES study at a November 21st event convened by the city’s Kids’ Council. The next step is titrating policies to reduce and mitigate children’s experience of trauma in the schools and other places where municipal government has a role.
Let’s not underestimate the power of modeling an individual connection with the environment, either. Doctors, out-of-school-time programs, teachers, counselors, parents—we can all put aside our cell phones, iPads and e-readers and take the kids outside.
Deep problems, indeed, define the field of trauma,. Those deep problems may need deep, essential, but simple solutions, including, but not limited to, romping in the woods.
I hope it can happen before our time is up.
Next installment: Communities Get Serious About Nature.
Enormous, lumpy, bright green spheres—walnuts sporting their whole husk—are littering the byways of Fresh Pond Reservation like a shell midden in the middle of nowhere. Asters are in full flush. A vole was so busy with fall it didn’t bother to hide itself, scuttling right in front of my feet across a wood chip path.
People are choosing their indoors existence right and left; even I am choosing my walled and locked and upholstered and gas-fueled exploits above just the wandering, lolling, and gazing that I could be doing. Every day. Or at least every week.
Park[ing] Day tests our indoors-burrowing, busifying, bustling outer shells. Park[ing] Day, now an annual event the world over, says What is open space, anyway? And is the line that designates a parking spot really etched in its rectangular purity, or should we, maybe, try to unthinkour privileging the presence of cars amongst our stalwart and tiniest pedestrians, our neighbors, our shopkeepers?
At our Park[ing] Day spot, on Huron Avenue in Cambridge, Massachusetts, amongst the pine cones, chestnuts, birds nests, tracking guides, and diorama of Fresh Pond Reservation, I met a woman who said “I don’t want to be churlish.” What she then said wasn’t what I expected—perhaps that we aggravated traffic by our little park, or that our hasty signage was a blight. No, she related how she had played amongst the dirt and plants in Arizona as a child, that children today call out, above a floor littered with playthings, that they are bored.
The official co-sponsors of our spot were the Friends of Tobin (a local school organization) and Friends of Fresh Pond Reservation. Unofficially, let’s say the wild turkeys that have been crossing our streets, the gray squirrels mad with storage strategy, and the pines and chestnut trees that are giving kids in our neighborhood the best toys ever these days, are the real sponsors.
Among doctors, “pearl” is shorthand for “pearl of wisdom.” The ones that are the most commonsensical are the most valuable. This is Drinking Water Week—we’re in the middle of it right now—something to “celebrate” as its sponsor, American Water Works Association, suggests? The availability of potable water is disastrously inadequate in so many places. I’m not keen on doing much celebrating. I do, however, feel grateful to the people who manage my local watershed; to my Cambridge, Mass. neighbors who don’t pour awful things into the storm drains, and to everyone who stays off the roads and walks or bikes or takes the T and thereby makes non-point-source pollution of the water a little bit better.
Here’s a riddle…who is a well-known friend to Cambridge flora and fauna (two-legged, four legged, annelid and all the rest) but not a Cambridge resident? Hint: No one has quite got a hat like hers for miles around. I’ll be posting a picture after I give you a little while to guess. If you see her tomorrow on Sunday April 29th (or any time in the next month), wish her a happy birthday.