Lessons from the Garden …

Lessons From the Garden Box…

I have the perfect view of my garden box from my kitchen window. The placement was not

intentional, but for some reason, this summer, I really noticed them. Perhaps it was because I

spent way more time standing at the window than playing in the garden, or perhaps I enjoyed

the stillness of watching Nature shift and change in the rush to get dinner on the table.

Whatever the reason, I was reminded how important it is to slow down, be curious, and to keep

yearning for the spontaneous unfolding of human potential.

Without knowing where this would lead, I kept glancing out the kitchen window with wonder. I

had never noticed the birds, the squirrels, or the trees quite the same way before. It just so

happened that I glanced out the window one warm summer evening to see a few weeds that

were not there the week before. With a sigh, I told myself it was time to get out and tend to the

garden I had prepped in the spring. However, a few more weeks passed, and I could only find

the time to watch the weeds continue to grow. After a few more weeks, I stopped telling myself

to do something about the weeds and instead I started to get curious about them. Where did the

seeds come from? Why were they growing so quickly? What would become of them if I did not

pull them up from the roots, but waited for them to grow and bloom? What would I discover if I

let their roots deepen, and watched the sun and rain offer their nourishment? As the weeks went

by, I started to get excited every time I looked out the window.

The weed was growing taller and taller! I saw a little bud! Then another and another! I found

myself yearning for this weed to grow and flower. Admittedly, I felt some impatience (a good

reminder to slow down), but I told myself that growth takes time and the right conditions for

maturation to unfold. By this time, I had stopped watching the weeds from the window and

instead walked out to the garden box each night after dinner. Then, as growth does, it finally

happened! I caught a glimpse of something yellow as I walked out the backdoor one evening,

and much to my delight the sweetest yellow flowers had bloomed. They were tiny and there

were so many, and their beauty shone just like my favourite yellow peony in the front yard.

These tiny yellow flowers got me thinking about my son, who lives with Down syndrome, and

the many children living with disability and support needs that I have worked with (and known)

over the years. It got me thinking about all the times they are uprooted, and all the times they

are pushed to meet societal “norms”. It got me thinking about the classroom, and my son’s

experiences at school. It got me asking questions about when he was most himself? When he

was growing and learning, and when he was becoming all he is meant to be?

It was not lost on me that everything about those beautiful yellow flowers were already inside

the seeds that found their way into my garden box. Nor was it lost on me that this is also true for

every child in the classroom. My own curiosity had me seeing the growth in my garden with

different eyes and reminded me to ask different questions. It reminded me that what we should

be asking ourselves as caregivers, teachers, and administrators is what has Nature already

taught us? What are the conditions we must create in the classroom? How do we lean into play

and relationship so each and every student reaches their potential? What can we discover when

we tend to the environment ahead of prepping and planning lessons?

Finally, what struck me the most is Nature already gave us the map. The soil created the

conditions and a warm invitation for the seed to attach and flourish, making way for a tiny but

beautiful yellow flower. My favourite!