Reading the Landscape: Early Literacy in the Outdoor Classroom

by editor | Sep 2, 2025 | Environmental Literacy

by Joanna Wright
Will my child be ready for Kindergarten?” As nature-based early childhood programs spring up across the country, this is a common query from interested families. While parents want to offer their children a chance to play outside, some also wonder if searching for bugs and traipsing through puddles will adequately prepare their child for the next stages of formal education.
What is usually meant by “Will my child be ready for Kindergarten?” refers to academic expectations, particularly reading and writing. In our outdoor classroom at Fiddleheads Forest School in Seattle, “walls” are interlacing cedar boughs rather than text-filled bulletin boards, and most winter days are too damp for paper and pencils. It might seem like a challenging environment in which to provide early literacy instruction, but our outdoor setting is also a source of unique opportunity.
What does an outdoor environment offer for early literacy development?

A core practice for language and literacy development is one that pre-dates any sort of ABCs worksheet: rich, reciprocal dialogue. Early learners construct ideas about how the world works through exploration and social interaction. The act of listening is a key element of supporting these young investigator-conversationalists. By listening and responding, teachers can extend children’s comments into more complex linguistic and cognitive territory.
The outdoor classroom is a rich and storied environment, full of possibilities for teachers and students to encounter the world together. Dialogue arises from this activity of joint attention. A slug gliding across a decomposing log, a Steller’s jay’s jarring call overhead, a new bud opening up. Each phenomenon presents the opportunity to use language as a tool for observation and inquiry. What do you notice? What do you think is happening here? How can we find out more?

Socio-Dramatic Play
“Oh! I saw a monster! I saw a big monster. Let’s get food. We have to get – put – food. Because I saw a big monster that was coming and eating all of the food for the baby monsters.” (Gathering seeds, throwing handfuls onto a path.) “Escape from the dungeon!” “Phew. I escaped. I escaped, because I am not afraid of monsters. I thought it was a monster, but I was super-duper-duper brave.”

The play-worlds created by children have an important role in language and literacy development. These are worlds of stories, conflict, and experimentation. They are words of negotiation, as narratives join and come to life. Renowned teacher and writer Vivian Gussin Paley (1986) describes how young children “know intuitively that once they begin to pretend, they become accountable to the community of pretenders.” In this community, as in any community, communication is paramount.

During pretend play, children talk more, speak in lengthier utterances, and use more complex language (e.g. future tense, interrogative clauses, conditional verbs, descriptive adjectives, mental state verbs) than when they are engaged in other activities.
(The Power of Play, Minnesota Children’s Museum)

An outdoor classroom is a wondrous, textured, dynamic habitat for imaginative play. With towering trees, foliage in which to feel hidden, unexpected visitors such as squirrels and owls, and cones falling to the ground, the ever-changing wild world provides an on-going stream of information with which the imagination can engage. And because many of the physical materials or “props” are natural items whose function in play is not pre-determined, children are required to work together to attribute meaning to these different items and integrate them into the story.

Emergent Reading and Writing
Many outdoor programs use field guides and other books to complement hands-on experience. A field guide, especially one with a layout that is accessible to early learners, is a wonderful supplement on exploratory walks. Using it encourages children to notice patterns and distinguish visual details, while building interest in printed material.
Another staple practice among many outdoor schools is that of journaling. Journals are books (ideally waterproof!) in which students can record their observations in pictures and words. Sometimes, the teacher may write down what the child dictates; or the child may choose to do the writing him or herself. These journals provide a record of specific things that captured the children’s interest, as well as documentation of students’ drawing and writing capacity over the course of the year.

Phonological Awareness
Activities that foster phonological awareness can be woven into the outdoor classroom experience. New vocabulary is introduced contextually, as teachers and students seek language that reflects the phenomena they encounter. Songs, rhymes, and games can be adapted to involve oral language, movement, and interaction with the environment itself. This is especially valuable during the winter months when it may be important to keep warm by being physically active.

Laying the Foundation for Literacy
Early literacy involves a suite of interrelated capacities, including oral language comprehension, print knowledge and print motivation, and phonological awareness. According to NAEYC (2003),

Children’s early reading and writing learning … is embedded in a larger developing system of oral communication. Early literacy is an emerging set of relationships between reading and writing. These relationships are situated in a broader communication network of speaking and listening, whose components work together to help the learner negotiate the world and make sense of experience.
(Kathleen A. Roskos, James F. Christie, and Donald Richgels, p. 2)

It can be easy as a teacher to feel a pressure to “produce,” to send children home with an elaborate craft or scrawled-upon paper that shows “what we did” that day at school. Of course, such activities, skillfully designed, have their place in a well-rounded preschool curriculum. I remind myself each day, however, that it is the quality of my presence—my attention and engagement in interaction—that matters most.
That quality of presence supports the type of dialogue and play that fosters language development. It is also the creative fuel necessary for weaving sound, reading, and writing into experience in meaningful ways. An outdoor classroom can provide a high degree of connectivity between all of these modes of learning, laying the foundation for literacy by treating it as an integrated, relevant, joyful part of students’ development.

A Community of Practitioners
In the course of writing this article, I reached out to other programs in the newly-formed Washington Nature Preschool Association and invited educators to share their experience with the opportunities and challenges of early literacy instruction out-of-doors. While our programs vary widely, I found that we share many of the same questions regarding how to make the most of this unique type of learning environment. I’d like to thank Stephanie Day at Roots Forest School in McCall, Idaho, Sarah Salazar-Tipton at Olympic Nature Experience, and Janet Killmer at Tacoma Outdoor Ability Development School, for sharing their perspectives on early literacy in their programs. If you’d like to join our conversation on this subject, please feel free to get in touch. ❏

Joanna Wright is a lead teacher with Fiddleheads Forest School, a program of the University of Washington Botanic Gardens in Seattle, WA. Before coming to Fiddleheads, she trained as a naturalist educator at Alderleaf Wilderness College where she specialized in wildlife tracking, and holds a Level III Track and Sign Certification. She is particularly interested in the significance of direct ecological experience for health, development and learning.

EE Research: Memories from Residential Outdoor Education Have Long-term Impact

by editor | Sep 2, 2025 | Environmental Literacy

THE RESEARCH: Liddicoat, K. R., & Krasny, M. E. (2014). Memories as useful outcomes of residential outdoor environmental education. The Journal of Environmental Education, 45(3), 178–193.

For students, spending several days at a residential outdoor environmental education (ROEE) program creates many new and powerful experiences, some of which are remembered for years to come. Yet, to date, only limited research has considered the role of memories as an outcome of environmental education.

This study investigated the memories of students five years after they completed an ROEE program. The gathered memories served as a means of qualitatively measuring the long-term impact of these programs on the students’ environmental knowledge, behaviors, social interactions, and personal narratives.

There are many different types of memory. For the purposes of this study, the authors focused on long-term episodic memories, which are memories of a specific event or episode, rather than generalized knowledge (semantic memories). Specifically, the authors focused on autobiographical memories, which are considered a subset of episodic memories that create a part of a person’s coherent life story. These memories were considered best suited for investigating the long-term impact of the ROEE programs.
In addition to learning what the participants remembered about the programs, the authors wanted to know how the participants have used these memories. Previous research into memory, reported in the psychology literature, has divided the uses of episodic autobiographic memories into three main categories: directive function, social function, and self function. Directive function refers to when a memory of a past experience is used to direct action and make predictions about the future. Social function is when a memory is used to converse and share stories, thus forging new relationships and maintaining intimacy with friends and family. Self function is when a memory enables a person to develop a coherent sense of self over time. The authors asked: How do memories of ROEE serve directive, social, or self functions? The authors paid special attention to directive functions, since directing future actions and behavior is most closely aligned with the goals of environmental education.

Data for this study were collected at two different research sites: the North Cascades Institute’s Mountain School in North Cascades National Park, Washington; and the Teton Science Schools near Grand Teton National Park, Wyoming.
The program at the North Cascades Institute (NCI) was a three-day camping experience for fifth graders designed to foster an appreciation for the local biota and natural and cultural history of North Cascades National Park, as well as stewardship of the environment. The Teton Science Schools program consisted of two different three-day programs. One was for fifth graders, designed to teach the students about different ecosystems in Grand Teton National Park through inquiry-based scientific investigation and encourage environmentally friendly behaviors, such as limiting food waste. The other program was for seventh graders, and focused on winter ecology through a series of field experiences and outdoor recreation activities such as snowshoeing and cross country skiing.
Study participants were high school students (now in tenth or twelfth grade) who had attended one of these programs five years prior to the study. The first author visited classrooms at both schools and interviewed willing students. The sample included 18 former participants from NCI and 36 from the Teton Science Schools.

The authors found that the interviewed students recalled many powerful memories from their ROEE experience and that these memories were continuing to serve a variety of functions in their lives. Many of the specific themes that emerged were similar at both sites, with different emphases that reflected the intentions of each program, as well as the different backgrounds of the students.
The most prominent uses of the memories were directive, such as inspiring an interest in outdoor recreation and environmental stewardship. For most students who participated in the program at NCI, the experience was their first time camping in a tent, especially without their families. Many of these students expressed appreciation for the experience and the desire to do it again. That said, most of them had not been able to actually go camping again, which the authors suggest may be due to their lack of independence as minors. The students from NCI also shared many environmental stewardship behaviors they had implemented into their current lives. They attributed these behaviors to what they learned during the program. These were mostly personal behaviors readily applied at home, such as turning off the water when not in use and not wasting food.

Participants of the Teton Science Schools program reported the knowledge gained in the course had been directly applied to their daily lives, recreational pursuits, and work. Many of the students in the program were regularly partaking in outdoor recreation activities both before and after participating in the course, and so were able to put to use specific knowledge about the outdoors, such as how to look at snow layers and predict the avalanche danger.
The students also credited their experience from the course with inspiring greater enthusiasm for environmental stewardship, especially with regard to learning about and caring for the local landscape.
The participants shared that the ROEE program had also significantly helped them with their social skills (considered a directive function) and had served for years as the basis of social interaction (a social function). Social skills included learning to work with others, make new friends, and be more outgoing within group settings. The memories served as a basis for social interaction by being a source of shared experience that facilitated reminiscing with friends who also attended the program. The memories were also shared with family and friends who did not attend the program, which promoted participation in the program by younger students and siblings.
Some of the shared memories seemed to serve a self-function, which are the memories that give a sense of continuity to one’s life. Many students reported the trip was one of the most memorable experiences of elementary school and, overall, a fun and positive one. The authors propose that these types of memories may relate to self-confidence and a sense of empowerment needed to pursue environmental goals.

THE BOTTOM LINE:
This study is one of the first to explore the use of memories as a measurable outcome of environmental education experiences, considering whether these memories can be used to evaluate the long-term effectiveness of a program.
Using the three memory-use categories defined in the psychology literature—self, social, and directive—the authors investigated the different ways in which memories of a residential environmental education program had impacted students’ lives, as reported five years after the experience. Results showed that the memories served a variety of functions that were aligned with environmental education’s goals, such as promoting environmental stewardship and an interest in outdoor recreation. ❏

Indigenous Perspectives: Supporting Non-native Educators

by editor | Sep 1, 2025 | Environmental Literacy

Supporting
Non-Native Educators with
Since Time Immemorial:
The Hummingbird Story

by Jenni Conrad
Summary: Based on research partnering with three Coast Salish nations, I offer five considerations to support K-12 non-Native educators who (like me) seek to build reciprocal relationships and strengthen their teaching with Indigenous nations and knowledges through the Since Time Immemorial curriculum. I explain common pitfalls and promising approaches to enact non-Native educators’ responsibilities to accurately and respectfully teach Native histories, cultures, and sovereignty.

Experiential learning outdoors first showed me how education could be transformative: huge gifts for my parenting, teaching, and living. But witnessing a program for Indigenous youth shook this easy positivity. When students shared their experiences of a forest tour, I immediately recognized my OEE colleagues and myself in their non-Indigenous guide. A wave of shame held up a mirror, offering an important truth.

During the tour, the students found a hummingbird lying on the trail. They were discussing what to do when their guide strode over, accidentally stepping on the hummingbird. Hearing the crunch of her bones, he looked down, then tossed her body into the brush. “It’ll decompose,” he shrugged, before moving everyone quickly to the next activity. Young students sharing this story shed tears, and spoke of losing sleep. They decided to construct a beautiful offering to the hummingbird at our site.
This story continues to teach me – when I’m willing to feel it and find myself in it. Even in open spaces, educators can shut down Native students’ ways of knowing and being in seconds, continuing colonial patterns. Such disregard and ignorance of Indigenous systems of relationship are common for non-Indigenous people, and structured into U.S. schooling systems. I had likely done so, too, even without physical harm. Being part of transformative experiential education demands grappling with what I’ve been taught about relationships with the natural world (more-than-humans) and local Indigenous peoples. This goes beyond much-needed anti-racism and equity work, which often positions Native peoples as racial minorities, rather than members of political nations. Developing and sustaining reciprocal relationships requires seeing ourselves as accountable partners with Indigenous peoples and more-than-humans, wherever we go. The extractive and distant relationships that I first learned let me off the hook: expectations that ended with my trip, not impacting my teaching or other roles.

In the last five years, with three Coast Salish nations and many Indigenous educators, I’ve been fortunate to research, teach, and learn with over 150 pre- and in-service K-12 educators implementing Since Time Immemorial (STI) in Washington. Our research identified multiple types of learning necessary for non-Native teachers to implement meaningfully, or in alignment with its principles: see resources below. From that experience, I share five foundational lessons for teaching this living curriculum.

1. Expand your interpretive power
Accurately understanding and exploring (rather than judging or ignoring) students’ thinking in cultural context is a foundation for excellent teaching- especially when students’ cultures and ways of knowing differ from their educators’. Tulalip psychologist Stephanie Fryberg and her colleagues describe this ability as interpretive power. Many Native teaching traditions also expect this of teachers: to develop caring relationships that acknowledge a power imbalance in order to responsibly engage with students’ ideas and experiences. Yet classroom teachers often struggle to attend to the substance of students’ thinking, instead focusing on their accuracy or procedural sequence.

Likewise, the forest guide did not notice, or ask about students’ thinking, or consider what their actions illustrated about cultural ways of knowing different from his own. Unlike the guide, students engaged with the hummingbird as a fellow subject, seeking reciprocity. To walk away from this bird in distress would be unethical: inconsistent with their relational responsibilities. In contrast, the guide’s actions defined the hummingbird as a compostable object, and students’ ideas as irrelevant to his teaching agenda. Paying attention to students’ reactions and body language might have offered important interpretive cues. He might have recognized the need to build deeper relationships in order to better interpret students’ ideas, or named the harm done and apologized. But to really understand his students’ ideas and aims of reciprocity, the guide also needed insight into his own cultural lens.
For non-Native educators, identifying and admitting limitations to our interpretive power can be a catalyst for deeper learning with Native knowledges and communities – and can support better STI teaching. For example, one science teacher who first struggled with STI teaching learned to change his approach. In one lesson, he illustrated how female salmon use a powerful kick to build a wall of large gravel, so small-sized gravel fall atop their eggs for protection. “It’s amazing that evolutionarily, the fish were able to learn to do this,” he noted. A Native student added, “Weren’t they always able to do that, though?” The teacher affirmed later that he recognized this “always” as a reference to ancestral knowledges, that salmon had been kicking gravel since time immemorial. “Yes,” he responded, “but not all of them did it in a way where their eggs survived: the right kind of kick. Those that did it wrong did not pass on their genes. So the ones that did, survived.” The student nodded. This teacher’s ability to respond in the moment and affirm the students’ traditional knowledge relied on his interpretive power: understanding both dominant science and local Native knowledges about salmon.

2. Seek out multiple types of learning and initiate reciprocal relationships
Educators developed this awareness and interpretive power through ongoing, non-required, informal learning with Native communities, as participants and listeners. Local Indigenous resources (e.g. local tribal websites, newspapers, stories, and museums) and public community events (e.g. powwows, salmon ceremonies, cultural workshops) were important resources. Through them, educators developed lasting, authentic personal interests with Indigenous knowledges, from language to plant medicine to weaving. In the process, they built relationships with local Native knowledge holders in multiple spheres of activity, including youth, elders, community members beyond their teaching settings, and district and state colleagues in Native education. This range of perspectives and connections was important, rather than relying on a few individuals. Gregarious or introverted, educators built relationships by continuing to engage. While forming these relationships, teachers sought additional learning and help with STI teaching through gifts. Gifts reflected the person and scope of the request, from a high-quality chocolate bar to a handmade basket. This approach steered away from patterns of non-Native taking, laying a path for reciprocity in ongoing words and actions.

By contrast, educators who taught STI less consistently or meaningfully struggled to accurately assess their interpretive power, and took minimal initiative for learning beyond formal spheres. While all educators saw a learning stance as important with STI, applying such humility to one’s knowledge (teaching content) seemed particularly challenging. Fearful of mistakes, these educators tended to teach only what was “safe” or officially approved. While well-intentioned, such habits continued distant or transactional relationships, and patterns of waiting. The forest guide might have held this perception of distance from Native communities, too.

3. Develop subject-based connections
Goals matter for learning and teaching. From my botanist grandfather to forest ecology field studies, I had learned to “appreciate” the natural world from a scientific distance, like the forest guide, and to see Native knowledges as mostly romantic or irrelevant relics. Wherever I traveled, this ethic separated me from “resources” in “the wild” – and “endangered” or “historic” Indigenous peoples. I valued their existence and my knowledge about them when it appeared relevant, but did not recognize ongoing responsibilities that honored their terms when returning home.

Rather than pursuing such goals of expertise – knowledge about Native people and more-than-humans consistent with object-based relationships – strong STI implementers focused on seeking reciprocity with Native people and lands. This ongoing subject-based relational learning supported meaningful teaching. For example, one teacher explained how local Native elders’ plant teachings guided her approach: “I’ve noticed that when I talk about [plants] now, I talk about them as if they have a spirit. Not just that, ‘Oh, it’s a tree. It grows from a seed, and blah, blah, blah.’ I’m actually like, ‘Mother Cedar and how she cares for us.’ Or when we go out and harvest, how we have to give something back because we’re taking something out.” This attention to giving applied to her human relationships, and supported students’ subject-based learning, too.

If the forest guide had made time for students to share their knowledge instead of consistently prioritizing his own, different forms of relationship with the hummingbird and each other could have been made visible. And recognizing the hummingbird’s legitimacy as a relative also requires shedding “lessons” ingrained in many of us by schools.

4. Recognize deficit views and colonial logics
Most K-12 schools do not honor specific Native peoples, histories, political nationhood, or knowledges, which limit educators’ interpretive power. Instead, deficit-based narratives in curriculum and society focus on Native victimhood: false notions of extinction, perceptions of inferiority or ineffectiveness, and single stories of poverty and alcoholism. Native knowledges are portrayed as primitive or romantic relics, irrelevant to contemporary concerns.

Recognizing that deficit-based views of Native peoples, knowledges, and nations inform educators’ own learning is a crucial first step, and an ongoing one. “I think that’s hard to acknowledge: what your misconceptions were, for everyone,” one teacher shared, “But I feel like it’s our duty. It’s an obligation for me to then shift my whole thinking, my whole thought process, my whole teaching process, and to incorporate all of that [change].”

Deficit views also inform explanations about the world that erase or devalue Native peoples, knowledges, or sovereignty: what Tigua/Mexica scholar Dolores Calderon calls settler colonial logics. These “explanations” persist. For example, that the U.S. is a nation of immigrants, or that treaty rights were granted to Native nations rather than by sovereign Native nations. The forest guide’s actions upheld another: that humans are separate from and superior to the natural world – even as they care for and teach about it.

5. Focus on asset-based, contemporary framing with Native peoples, knowledges, and nations
Recognizing patterns of Indigenous invisibility and erasure was necessary for educators to develop effective, asset-based STI teaching. Strength- or asset-based frames focus on the past, present, and future resilience and agency of Native peoples and nations: their innovation, strength, and leadership for addressing urgent contemporary issues. For example, one teacher’s Native students joined a large climate action youth conference, where he saw their authority amplified: “Out of that entire group it was only the group that I was with [who] had the power of the voice to say things that carried enough weight to actually shift the understanding in the way that we handle climate change. They are living on the landscape where they traditionally have lived since time immemorial, and have felt, and actually have the data within their knowledge of how the climate has changed over the last ten thousand years. And by all rights, they have the most authority to say this is what needs to be fixed right here right now.” Recognizing and countering colonial logics helped educators support Native students and communities against threats, from ocean acidification to Native language loss.

To enact transformative teaching with Since Time Immemorial, OEE educators have many choices. We can notice how we interpret and value students’ ideas from a particular standpoint, and constantly seek to broaden the interpretive resources in our toolkit. We can be vigilant with countering deficit frames applied to Native students, families, and knowledges. We can build relationships in the natural world and with Native communities as reciprocal participants and listeners, rather than dominators. We can approach colonial logics embedded in our own habits with more curiosity and determination. As we identify deficit frames and colonial logics shaping our relationships and understandings, we can share those myths with our students and challenge those frames as we teach. Our lessons can illustrate the urgently-needed leadership of Native peoples, knowledges, and nations with contemporary issues. As individuals and organizations, we can humbly seek partnerships and request feedback from Native colleagues and communities, and be more attentive to ways our own cultural values may shape our responses. And we can accept responsibility for co-designing learning experiences and partnerships that honor Indigenous peoples, lands and nations. Honoring the hummingbird and the Native youth who shared her story expect this of me. What next steps will you take? •T

Recommended Resources for Educators

Educator Self-Reflection Tool with Since Time Immemorial developed from this research: https://tinyurl.com/reflectSTI

Calderon and colleagues’ Research Brief on Land education (different from place-based education) professional development for educators gives important background and concrete suggestions for designing non-Native educator learning. https://cedar.wwu.edu/woodring_dei/33/

Conrad’s (2022) Desettling History: Non-Indigenous Teachers’ Practices and Tensions Engaging Indigenous Knowledges illustrates how two non-Native educators worked to support Native knowledges and sovereignty in place-based settings (email jconrad@temple.edu for a free copy).

Learning in Places Collaborative’s (2021) Frameworks for Educators, and Co-designing Places for Outdoor Learning Facilitation Guide offer resources for designing education aligned with Indigenous knowledges across settings. http://learninginplaces.org

Indigenous STEAM Collaborative’s Learning Activities offer print-ready tools for all settings that incorporate science, technology, engineering, art, and math. https://indigenoussteam.org/learning-activities/

Critical Orientations: Indigenous Studies and Outdoor Education: a free online course taught by Indigenous faculty at OSU, relevant to outdoor educators across settings https://workspace.oregonstate.edu/course/Critical-Orientations-Indigenous-Studies-and-Outdoor-Education

Jane Goodall Environmental Middle School: 25 Years of Field-based Research

by editor | Aug 26, 2025 | Environmental Literacy

by Mike Weddle
The Jane Goodall Environmental Middle School (JGEMS) is a public charter school in Salem, Oregon focused on conservation biology and technology. We have been doing field-based research with students for 25 years, working at sites located just outside the classroom to sites throughout Oregon. We have found that the formal research projects our 8th graders do provide an engaging and meaningful opportunity for students to apply the skills and knowledge they learn in the classroom to “real life” environmental issues. These formal projects provide a focus for our students that translates into high state test scores, parental satisfaction and several grants.

Step by step in the field
For JGEMS, these research projects are year-long studies in the 8th graders’ conservation biology class. Since the focus of our school is conservation biology, all students in grades 6 to 8 take a full year of con bio as well as their district required science class. That is why our students can spend so much time on this project. For teachers who do not have the luxury of a class devoted to field-based research, this project can be tailored to any length. The format can be copied or replicated, based on the time and resources available. Here is how we do this at JGEMS.
At the end of the 7th grade, after the students have finished their endangered species project presentations in their conservation biology class, they are presented with possible research topics for the coming year. Once they make their choices, the teacher can use the summer to arrange the equipment, agency staff support and research sites for each group. Field trips start in the fall, initially with staff from the partnering agency to explain the project on site. The students spend the day observing and generating questions and possible ways to collect data to answer the questions. They will also try to determine what equipment they will need.
Back in the classroom the students begin their online research with a review of the literature. This is much easier now with the Internet. Students write the introduction portion of their papers. At the same time they are formulating the data sheet they will take with them on the next trip to the site. Invariably, the data sheet will need to be revised, but eventually they will have a usable data sheet and can collect meaningful data on subsequent visits to the site. Our groups typically make four or five site visits.
While students are in class they can now begin writing the methods and materials section of their papers. Once they have finished collecting data they can analyze it and draw conclusions and write those sections of their research paper. Then they are ready to work with their group on their formal presentation with Google Slides.

Presentations
The culminating activity for JGEMS students is the formal presentation of their research findings. We make this a very big deal. We invite panelists from partnering organizations to come to the school to sit on a panel and hear the students present and then to question them about their methods and results.

Take Action
We like to have students give back something to the site or agency they worked with. For example, we had a research group that did a biodiversity inventory of David Sawyer Park in Turner, Oregon. At the end of the project, they guided all the 2nd and 3rd graders from Turner Elementary School around the park in small groups. The students developed engaging activities to teach the younger students about the fungus, lichens, plants and trees in the park.
Another group, after studying water quality in a local stream, spent a morning removing trash from the stream. Countless possibilities present themselves for empowering the students.

Partnerships
Partnerships with government and non-government agencies have been extremely helpful. The U. S. Fish & Wildlife Service (USFWS)has partnered with us for 23 years through their Newport office. We have also worked extensively with the Oregon Zoo with research projects at the zoo itself and in the field as part of their outreach conservation efforts throughout the Northwest. We have also worked extensively with the public works departments of the City of Salem and the City of Turner. Typically the partner organization will describe a problem or issue that needs to be studied, offer suggestions for data collection, often accompany students for their initial site visits and then review the findings and attend the final research project presentations.

In more than twenty-five years of doing field-based research projects with students, we have learned a few valuable lessons. Hopefully, by listing them here, you will be able to learn more quickly and less painfully than we did.

• 1. Carefully select partnerships that can work. Can the students get the job done? Will it be interesting? Can they collect a large enough sample size to make the results meaningful? Will staff from the collaborating organization be able to visit your classroom? Work with your students in the field? Attend a final presentation
• 2. Can the study be continued in future years? There is great value in ongoing studies that become a school tradition. Each year the project acquires a greater value.
• 3. Make the trips fun. Usually the students will be giving up something to take part in this field experience – missing classes, giving up a weekend day, or working late in the afternoon.
• 4. Feed the kids. My experience is that middle school students need to eat every two hours. Sitting around the table over ice cream is a great time to reflect on the day’s data collection.
• 5. Fill out all the proper forms. All schools and districts have required forms for field trips. Our administration has always been supportive of our fieldwork – except for those times when we have failed to turn in the proper forms at the right time.
• 6. Be sure to let your administrators know ahead of time about your collaborations and fieldwork. Let them become part of the planning, even if it is only a token participation. The last thing you want is for them to read about your exploits in the paper – exploits they know nothing about.
• 7. Scout the site ahead of time. A field experience can go bad in a hurry if the kids, once they arrive at their site, are not able to carry out the project they have spent weeks planning. Granted, that is part of the reality of doing field research, but with middle and high school students, you really want them to have a good experience, not to mention the cost of taking the field trip. You want a good experience for them.
• 8. Don’t be deterred by bad weather. There is so much that has to be set up ahead of time for a field trip, you do not want to postpone because of rain. Invest in good rain gear. A little weather will make the experience more memorable for your students – and for you.

For the students, parents, teachers and community partners, our field-based research projects have become the culminating project, coalescing skills and knowledge from every content area into one research project that really matters, not just in school, but for the wider community. These projects empower students — they know they are making a difference in their local and global environments.

Here are some examples of the projects we have done at JGEMS:

• Frog Deformities – Since 2004, JGEMS has worked with USFWS to monitor the red-legged frog population in Neskowin Marsh, part of the Oregon Coast National Wildlife Refuge Complex. Each February JGEMS students meet USFWS staff at the marsh. They provide canoes and the students paddle a fixed route counting the number of egg clusters. This information has been extremely helpful for USFWS staff and, in some instances, has helped determine the next steps in their restoration efforts at the site. One year students were asked to search for the parasitic worms, Ribeiria ondatrae, that are the cause of frog deformities in North America. Students had to collect hundreds of aquatic snails, the intermediate host for the worms, and wait for them to emerge. They did indeed find worms, but not the species that has been linked to the deformities. USFWS was relieved to hear our results. They have not found any deformed frogs at the site.

• Forest Fire Ecology – JGEMS students have worked with the U.S. Forest Service since 2005 on forest fire ecology. There always seems to be a major forest fire for our students to study, starting with the B&B Complex Fire in 2003 up to the Beachie Creek Fire of 2020. Students first looked at burn severity in areas that were thinned versus those that were not. Working with the Oregon Zoo’s PikaWatch program, they studied pika survival and recolonization after the Dollar Creek Fire on Mt. Hood in 2011 and the Eagle Creek Fire of 2017. Students are currently studying the most effective restoration method to bring back biodiversity after a fire. The study sites are in the SE corner of Silver Falls State Park, the only area of the park burned in the Beachie Creek Fire of 2020. We also worked with the Oregon Zoo and USFWS on projects with the threatened Oregon silver-spot butterfly, the western pond turtle and the snowy plover.

• Sand Intrusion at Cannon Beach Tidepools – One group of students worked to determine the extent of sand encroachment in the Cannon Beach tide pool area for the Haystack Rock Awareness Project. They observed significant change in sand encroachment during the year. This information will prove invaluable to the Friends of Haystack Rock by providing baseline data for their long-term study.

• Stream Survey of Gnat Creek – This project was done at the request of the Oregon Department of Fish & Wildlife. Staff at the Gnat Creek Fish Hatchery noticed a rise in stream temperature over the past three years and they wanted to determine the cause. Students collected data on shade cover, large woody debris, water temperature and streambed pebble size. They identified the lack of adequate streamside buffer after logging as the probable cause of the temperature rise.

• Barbed Wire Fences and Wildlife Movement – The barbed wire fencing research project was done at the request of one of the JGEMS teachers who owns property northeast of Klamath Falls, Oregon. He was concerned that the barbed-wire fence around his property may be a dangerous obstacle to deer, elk and antelope as they travel through his property in search of food. The students used infrared camera traps to record the number of deer that crossed the fence line before and after the fence section was taken down.

• Phenology, Alpine Ecosystems and Climate Change – Working with the U. S. Forest Service, the Alpine Ecosystems Research Center in Chamonix, France, and the USA National Phenology Network, students are gathering baseline data on leaf-fall and bud-break on selected high altitude species in the Cascades. The Alpine Ecosystems Research Center has been conducting similar research in several European alpine countries for several years and they are eager to expand their data to include North America.

Mike Weddle was raised in Berkeley, California. He taught special education, computer science and conservation biology. In 2000 he helped establish the Jane Goodall Environmental Middle School, a public charter school focusing on environmental science. He retired in 2007 but continues to volunteer at his former school.

Why Field-based Inquiry?

by editor | Aug 26, 2025 | Environmental Literacy

by Willow Myrland
Prior to teaching I worked for the USGS conducting amphibian and reptile surveys. I remember being struck by the fact that very little of my theoretical knowledge of science prepared me for the practical application of actually doing science. The recipe-like labs of my education did not prepare me for designing my own scientific investigations. I became passionate about becoming a science educator who focused on teaching the skills I used as a scientist to help make sense of the facts we are asking our students to learn.

Teachers are being asked to do more than ever before. We are inundated with meetings, grading, analyzing data and curriculum development. We are being asked to teach not only the standards, but also social emotional skills lacking from formative years spent isolated during the pandemic. The idea of taking kids outside to do field-based research can be daunting and filled with bureaucratic hurdles. Given all this, why should we take our precious time to implement this new type of learning?

This year, our district is rolling out a new science curriculum and actively sought input from parents and students from kindergarten through high school to understand their perspectives on memorable and effective science learning experiences. Looking at the results, a clear message emerged: the science lessons that left the deepest impact were the ones filled with hands-on activities and engaging projects. Many shared memories of favorite field trips and of time spent outdoors learning with peers and teachers. What surprised me was many students expressed a genuine desire for less screen time and more moments connected with nature. They asked for more time outside. The average middle or high school student today is often juggling 6 or 7 different classes, extracurricular activities after school as well as navigating a complicated social landscape. It’s no wonder that as teachers we often hear the questions, “Why are we doing this? Or “When will I use this?” Field-based scientific inquiry steps in as the answer, offering more than just facts—it gives structure and a broader perspective often missing in traditional science classes. It answers the question “Why does science matter in my life?”

Field-based inquiry provides authentic learning experiences for students that provide a vehicle for not only teaching the science standards, but also the science practices that will stay with students long after the individual facts are forgotten. This allows students to understand how scientific knowledge is attained and creates more informed future citizens. Field-based inquiry allows students to really get to know a place on an intimate level. I have found that once students know the name of the plants, animals, and mushrooms in an area, they become much more engaged and invested in their learning. Students I taught 15 years ago visit and tell me stories of nature walks with family and friends where they can still point out a Pseudotsuga menziesii and a Tsuga heterophylla. They tell me that knowing the names of these organisms makes them notice them more as they navigate their day to day lives. This profound connection sparks an innate curiosity about the ‘why’ and ‘how’ of the environment, laying the groundwork for a genuine appreciation of scientific exploration.

So how does the process work? In field-based scientific inquiry students spend time observing and journaling in a particular place. This could be an old-growth forest, a stream or pond nearby or even the trees in their own schoolyard. They get to know the living and nonliving characters in the area. They map the area, and start to develop questions. Students then work collaboratively to develop a question about this natural area. Often students can partner with community scientists and organizations to make their project even more meaningful and authentic. They design a procedure for collecting data and head outside to collect. Students then come back to the classroom, analyze their data and answer their questions. The process culminates with a presentation to classmates, scientists and community members allowing students the opportunity to communicate their findings. This important scientific skill is often overlooked in the regular science classroom. Many of my past students have said this skill of speaking academically has been invaluable in their education and future career, regardless of the career they chose to pursue.

The generation we are teaching right now is inheriting a world filled with complicated environmental problems that will impact all of us in the near future. It can be easy for our students to get overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of these challenges and feel like helpless bystanders. These environmental challenges need creative, informed and skilled scientists to begin the problem-solving process. Field-based inquiry arms our students with the knowledge, skills and experiences they need to begin to take on these challenges. This type of learning empowers students to become active participants in the scientific world instead of just reading about it. They stop relying on others to tell them about science and start doing science. In essence, by fostering a hands-on, field-based approach, we not only prepare our students to confront the intricate environmental issues of their future but also cultivate a generation of proactive scientists who are ready to contribute actively to shaping a sustainable and informed world.

Willow Myrland has been teaching middle school science for 17 years. She is dedicated to connecting students to the outdoors through project-based learning. She can often be found outside searching for salamanders, squishing fluffy mosses and smelling wild ginger and licorice fern.