Weaving Wonder: Play, Learning, and Behavior in Colorado’s Forest School Landscapes

Nature School Cooperative
Aug 5
4 min read

Children move through tall grass still tipped with dew. They pause to notice the sound of a red-winged blackbird, then tiptoe toward the riverbank, following its call. There’s no rush. No bells ring. Here, learning begins with wonder.

This is Forest School. Not simply a philosophy, but a living, breathing relationship between children and place. Here in Colorado’s open landscapes, where prairie meets wetland and river meets trail, learning unfolds as naturally as the seasons, shaped by play, story, and curiosity.

Theories That Take Root in Soil

Much of what guides Forest School practice is rooted in classic educational theory. Jean Piaget taught us that children are not blank slates, but active constructors of meaning, constantly organizing their understanding through sensory engagement and physical experimentation. Lev Vygotsky built upon this, emphasizing that children grow best in the context of relationship, especially when supported just beyond what they already know.

These ideas come to life in forest schools. A child building a bridge of logs across a shallow stream is not simply moving materials around. They are solving problems, developing balance, and working with others to test, revise, and reflect. This is not a break from learning, it is learning in motion.

John Dewey famously wrote that education is not preparation for life, but life itself. In forest school programs, that perspective becomes tangible. The lessons are not just embedded in the content but woven into the very experience of exploring the world. Approaches like Reggio Emilia and coyote mentoring invite children to be the authors of their own questions, guided by the environment and the people who care for them.

What Happens in the Brain When We Play

For those who wonder whether all this joyful exploration really leads to deep learning, the brain offers an emphatic yes.

According to affective neuroscientist Jaak Panksepp, play is not just recreational. It is a core

emotional system, essential for development. Through social play, the brain strengthens pathways in the frontal cortex, which supports planning, empathy, and impulse control.

In one notable study, researchers found that children with more unstructured, child-directed time demonstrated stronger executive functioning. Outdoor play enhances these outcomes. Sensory-rich environments—where feet can press into cold mud, hands can gather warm stones, and ears can follow birdsong—stimulate multiple areas of the brain simultaneously.

Natural settings also support regulation and focus. Research shows that exposure to green space lowers cortisol levels and helps children recover from stress. Gillen et al. (2022) found that outdoor play activates the prefrontal cortex more effectively than indoor or screen-based tasks. These findings affirm what many forest school educators already know in their bones: nature builds not only stronger bodies, but more balanced, resilient minds.

Curriculum Written by the Land

At the heart of forest school is the idea that place shapes learning as much as any curriculum ever could.

One day, a group of children might come upon a patch of river clay, slick and cool to the touch. They begin shaping nests, animal tracks, and imagined tools, completely absorbed in their process. In this moment, fine motor development, sensory processing, symbolic thinking, and ecological empathy are all engaged—without a worksheet or planned lesson in sight.

Educators gently support these moments. Some use frameworks like Joseph Cornell’s Flow Learning, which encourages starting with energy and play, then moving toward reflection and stillness. Others draw from mentoring traditions that emphasize listening, storytelling, and open-ended inquiry. In both cases, the adult’s role is to protect the magic of the moment, not to manage it.

Every stick fort and muddy footprint becomes part of a long-term relationship between child and place. These experiences create memory, meaning, and a sense of rootedness that can’t be replicated in traditional settings.

Behavior as Communication and Connection

It’s common to hear that behavior improves when children spend time outdoors. But what’s really changing is the way adults interpret and respond to that behavior.

In forest school, a child’s actions are seen as communication. If a child lashes out, wanders off, or shuts down, the first question is not “What’s wrong with you?” but “What do you need

right now?” Educators who practice co-regulation understand that children borrow calm from the adults, and the environment, around them. By slowing down, breathing with intention, and holding space without judgment, adults model nervous system stability.

Daily rituals like morning circles, shared meals, or quiet observation in sit spots help children feel anchored and safe. Instead of enforcing behavior through rewards or punishments, educators offer rhythm, relationship, and choice. Over time, this creates the conditions for emotional intelligence to grow from the inside out.

Learning to Wonder, Not Just to Know

Forest school is not just an alternative approach. It is a response to a deeper calling—a sense that childhood is not a race to the next milestone, but a sacred season of becoming.

When children build friendships with the land, they learn to slow down, to notice, and to care. Their questions shift from “What do I need to know?” to “What am I part of?” They begin to understand that they are not separate from nature, but held by it.

In this way, forest school becomes more than a pedagogy. It becomes a practice of belonging, a way of seeing the world with eyes wide open. And maybe that’s the greatest gift of all. Not just what they learn, but how they learn to wonder.