In an era marked by global crises and ecological breakdown, it can be hard to hold onto hope. This is perhaps particularly so for educators working with young children, who, for many of us, are both a glimpse into the future and a strong reminder of the present we are living. We are required continually to confront our position, an ethical and political one: what can I possibly offer the children in my care, knowing the crises we face and that will mark their futures? Does the knowledge we construct together today matter when we don’t know what tomorrow holds?
These questions are an invitation to challenge our own assumptions about the worlds we both live in and that we imagine. For example, what if our pedagogical role were not to offer children our understandings, but instead to support the co-construction of new ontologies, or ways of viewing the world? How might we then imagine worlds together that recognize the entanglements of past-present-future, of children, and the natural world?
The following reflection shares an experience that was co-constructed with a small group of pre-k children in Cambridge, Massachusetts, that aimed at challenging ontological assumptions about our place in the world by asking children about their concepts of “nature.”
“What is nature?”
Many of the pre-k children at a university-affiliated child care center in Cambridge shared a deep passion for animals during the 2023-2024 school year. One child constantly blurted out scientific facts about various species – though the pileated woodpecker was a favorite – while others embodied different animals in their pretend play on the playground. Noticing this interest, I became curious about how or if children conceive a divide between humans and “more-than-humans,” and in what ways their developing understandings might intra-act (Barad’s (2007) term for how ideas or entities come into being through their interactions) with pedagogical provocations over time.
Over a few months, I met with small groups of the 4- and 5-year-olds in free-flowing focus groups. All of the children were invited to participate as they desired to (for example, in various durations, through alternate modes such as drawing, etc.). I prepared a series of images of objects that I classified into three crude categories: 1) definitely nature, 2) probably not nature, and 3) undetermined. (In actuality, as I piloted the images with colleagues, I discovered that these categories were not so clearly defined.) In small groups, I presented the images one at a time to the children and asked, “Is it nature?
“No, [it’s not] on a tree.” – N.
“Yes.” – LS
“Because there’s trees in nature.” – Y
“Yes because it comes from trees.” – A
“Yes, because it has a head.” – N.
“Yes, there are wildcats you know. But not this one because it’s wearing a tie, they don’t wear ties in the wild.” – E.
“No, because cats don’t have nature cells. Trees, plants, and leaves have nature cells.” – D.
“Yes, because there’s a lot of animals in nature.” – A.
At each meeting, I showed new images that responded to the arguments presented by the children. For example, I showed them an office chair, which they said was not nature, and a bundle of sticks, which they agreed was nature. So to challenge their thinking, in the following session I showed an image of a wooden chair:
“Wooden chairs are made of wood. They’re made of trees.” – J.
“It’s nature!? It’s made of nature.” – LB.
“But yesterday you said that human-made things aren’t nature. What do you think now?” – Lisa
“If people make something with nature, then I guess it’s nature.” – E.
At this point, we arrived—or did not arrive—to an understanding. The children and I together realized that perhaps we could not say with certainty if something was nature, not nature, or something in between. The objects became too entangled; that is, their materiality and composition, their origin, the process of turning them into something else and who did that turning blurred the dividing line between human and nature.
Photographing “Nature”
We paused on this inquiry while the children engaged in a series of encounters about photography. They learned about film and digital cameras, and were curious about playing around with disposable cameras. I became interested in seeing how the children might use this new language of photography to reconsider nature from a different perspective, this time producing the images themselves, and to share their conceptions of nature in this way. How might the children entangle with the language of photography? In what ways might photography allow children to relate their conceptions of nature in new ways that words do not? What worlds might emerge from the children’s photographs?
(Below: Group 1 Sample – Three Children)
The children worked in pairs or groups of three to have the possibility to continue dialoguing about their conceptions of nature while photographing. They were encouraged to discuss with each other their planned photographs and deliberate over its nature-ness. Each group received a disposable camera and the suggestion to find a way of taking turns to make the action of photographing equitable (such that there was not the requirement to take turns equally but rather decide how each person wanted to contribute to the 27 images available on the camera).
On two occasions, the children went for a “neighborhood walk” with their teachers and the researcher. They received the same cameras both times.
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Some children immediately started to snap photos, while others recognized the limited number of images and sought to choose more “carefully” the photographs they took. There was a notable amount of teacher involvement, with frequent instructions about how to use the camera or to share it, or directions such as “that’s not nature!” and requests to think more about their photographs. One teacher served as a child’s partner for the project. At one point, one of the teachers even took the camera and photographed the children herself, saying, “Let me take your picture—so cute! Cheeeeese!”
(Below: Group 2 Sample – Child and Teacher)
The photographs include a diverse array of bodies, materials, and forms; both organic and inorganic. Each image is richly textured and deeply rooted in place, time, and relationships. I have selected only a small sample of the collections created by each group for the sake of space, aiming to represent the stories captured in them but surely leaving some out.
While the prompt given to the children was to photograph what they considered to be nature, the photographs the children took include more than the stereotypical emblems of trees, flowers, and animals we might (wrongly) expect from children. (Though is it not our own adult oversimplifications that lead children to view the world in simplified ways?) We can see the entanglement of the living grass with the cement sidewalk, the meeting of a child’s food with a wild mushroom, the layering of the river through the frame of the bridge. Teachers, peers – intimate relationships – feature prominently in many of the photographs taken by all of the groups as well. The children wanted to be present in the photographs, and their playfulness in interpreting the assignment (even in spite of teachers’ re-directions) was essential in the construction of the “nature” they chose to share.
(Below: Group 3 Sample – Three Children)
What Does This Tell Us?
Through the process of discussing “nature” with the children, my own onto-epistemologies about the world revealed themselves. My habit of thinking in terms of humans and nature as distinct categories was constantly challenged. By listening closely to children’s understandings of the world, I could begin to question my own, and this reflective practice is imperative in a time when our self-separation from the planet keeps us from taking care of it.
In addition, this experience was a slow, emergent, and beautiful one. Bringing up topics related to the climate crisis does not need to be done in scary, anxiety-provoking ways; it can be playful and creative. By taking our time, the children had time to question critically my propositions as well as their own thinking. This willingness to face and grapple with uncertainty, and the ability to change our minds in the presence of multiple perspectives, are also essential habits for approaching the future of our planet.
Importantly, children present us with complexities. Their photographs reveal the entanglements of nature/culture, where we can find ourselves inside the question of what is nature (perhaps this question is really asking what is our nature?). Children’s perspectives elucidate the need to dissolve boundaries between nature and not nature: everything is nature, and nature is not outside us – it is us.
So if we ask ourselves what we can possibly offer the children in our care during these troubling times, we might instead make space for the offerings children bring. It is not our time to make offerings to children. If we did, we would be giving them our onto-epistemologies that no longer respond to the times we are living in. Really we should be looking at their visions of the world for inspiration, and remind ourselves that it matters what worlds we co-construct now. If we can imagine something different, we can make it so, and this can give us the hope that we need during this time.
This project is still ongoing, as it awaits the children’s reflections and impressions of their photographs now that they are developed. With the space of time, how will the children respond to their photographs? What stories will they construct of their relations with nature through this medium? How might their continued storying and worlding be a source of hope? In a time full of so much unknown, it is alongside the children that we can learn to embrace uncertainty and linger in the space between – between nature/not nature, teacher/learner, and present/future.
Lisa Goddard, M.Ed., is a Ph.D. Fellow in Reggio Childhood Studies at the University of Modena and Reggio Emilia in Italy.
She is also the facilitator of the Playing in the Anthropocene Inquiry Group (PLAi), an international community of practice dedicated to exploring playful experiences for both adults and children that foster intentional human-nature relationships.
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