Most everyone is well aware of the growing number of problems that plague children these days. Childhood obesity and diabetes, depression and teen suicide, school bullying, and attention-deficit disorder are some of the heart-breaking difficulties that families face. Today, growing-up healthy and happy seems to be more difficult than ever before. Thanks to Richard Louv, author of Last Child in the Woods, we can now add another problem to this laundry list: “nature-deficit disorder.” Yet we can also add a viable solution: nature.
Louv describes nature-deficit disorder as the human costs of alienation from nature that can be increasingly perceived in individuals, families, and communities. While not a medical diagnosis, nature-deficit disorder is a term that may help explain the increasing feeling of isolation from the physical and spiritual world, and its negative results. In his book, Louv pleads that if we don’t want our next generation to be entrapped by physical and emotional illnesses, we have to reunite our children with nature.
Louv emphasizes that a child’s early experiences in nature – whether that means in the backyard, the back woods, the family farm or garden, or the overgrown, empty lot – are formative and essential. Among other things, nature will teach a child to utilize all the senses, manage risks, and learn the limitations of his or her body, while nurturing creativity, and most importantly, inspiring awe. Louv makes a case that childhood experiences in nature were influential in the creative development of some of the world’s greatest leaders. Louv recounts the stories of little Thomas Edison sitting on goose eggs to make them hatch, young Eleanor Roosevelt disappearing into the woods to write short stories about butterflies, and the small John Muir chasing down seagulls on the beach.
Photo: As a kid, I loved climbing trees like this giant European Beech (Fagus sylvatica). 1995
Which got me to thinking, can our childhood nature experiences really be absolutely essential to how and who we grow up to be? At least for me, I think the answer is pretty straightforward. Thankfully I had the type of parents who encouraged outdoor play and exploration – a father who collected frogs and turtles and took me and my sisters camping every year, and a mother who taught us to be observant and creative.
Louv reports that one of the main stumbling blocks to reuniting children with nature is the vast number of distractions keeping kids inside. In his book, he recounts that when one fourth-grader in San Diego was questioned, the child replied, “I like to play indoors better ‘cause that’s where all the electrical outlets are.” How true. Growing up in an affluent suburb in the late ‘80s and early ‘90s, my family was one of the only households that didn’t have Nintendo or Sega Genesis. My sisters and I were only allowed to play video games at friends’ houses. At a friend’s house, I’d first be so excited to play Super Mario Brothers for the novelty of it, but I would always get bored quickly. Without much video game practice, of course I’d die right away and would have to wait forever for it to be my turn again. TV is another huge distraction that was minimized in my childhood. Growing up, I was only allowed to watch TV after 7pm, if I finished my homework. No “Saved by the Bell” or Saturday morning cartoons for me. Instead, I’d end up going down to the park, or riding my bike, or playing horses in the backyard. Although my boyfriend is continually mocks me about all the ‘80s pop culture I missed, I feel I’m the better for it. Looking back, it is amazing how much my parents resisted the technology craze. Today’s parents must have it even harder as more and more electronic distractions are keeping kids inside.
I remember often playing in our backyard. The grass would get torn up from all the running around on all fours me and my sisters would do while playing horses, or dogs, or cats. I remember picking blueberries, raspberries, and cherries in our backyard, still wet from morning dew. I remember counting the goldfish in our dinky pond, not really minding that they kept getting eaten by passing herons, so long as I could get a glimpse of the snowy white shorebirds. I remember growing parsley and cucumbers and being proud to actually eat vegetables. I remember cleaning-out a narrow, hidden section of our backyard sandwiched between two neighbors’ fences and declaring it our clubhouse. I remember sweltering in the summer sun pulling out never-ending weeds from the driveway by hand as one of my chores. I remember trying to not make eye contact with the neighbors walking by who looked on amused yet curious that a 14 year old girl was mowing the lawn instead of the landscapers. I remember climbing our Norway Maple tree in the front yard and being silent and surprised that no one walking by ever looked up to see me. I remember climbing an enormous beech tree once at a family picnic, and feeling somewhat smug that the arboretum attendant looked absolutely shocked at how high I had climbed when he told me to get down from there immediately. I’d bet that it’s not a coincidence that I became an arborist or an extension agent.
Photo: Today, nature is still an important aspect of my life. Mongaup Pond, the Catskills, 2010
Yesterday I was fortunate to hear a lecture by Susan Lacerte, Executive Director of the Queens Botanical Garden in Flushing. She described the process of redesigning their offices and garden to create a sustainable gray water and storm water catchment and recycling system. As a result of their efforts, the Queens Botanical Garden was one of the first places in the country to achieve platinum certification from the U.S. Green Building Council’s Leadership in Energy and Environmental Design (LEED™) Green Building Rating System, the highest possible certification. Her inspiration for using water as a central feature in the garden came from her childhood – the memory of camping with her family. Huddled inside the tent during a rainstorm, she vividly remembers hearing raindrops hit the top of her tent and watching them gently roll down the sides and off, to splat on the ground and make mud puddles. From mud puddle memories LEED™ platinum certification is born. Perhaps Richard Louv is really on to something… Nature for both kids and adults may be more important for emotional, physical, and spiritual well-being than we’ve ever realized. I think it’s time we all took a step outside.
Louv, Richard. 2008. Last Child in the Woods: Saving Our Children from Nature-Deficit Disorder. Algonquin Books: Chapel Hill, NC.
