by Benjamin Derrick

In my previous LYIS blog, The Intersection of Play and Safety: Lessons from Anji County https://principalsblog.leadingyourinternationalschool.com/healthsafety/the-intersection-of-play-and-safety-lessons-from-anji-county/, I explored what happens when adults become a little less controlling of children’s play. One of the ideas that stayed with me was that teachers do not always need to lead learning from the front. Sometimes our most important job is to create the conditions for learning, observe carefully, intervene when necessary, and then get out of the way.

More recently, I had the opportunity to explore that idea in a very different context: helping to develop an outdoor learning programme on a farm in Yixing.

What happens when the environment itself becomes one of the teachers?

𝐓𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐄𝐝𝐮𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐅𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐎𝐮𝐭𝐝𝐨𝐨𝐫𝐬

The setting in Yixing could hardly be more different from a conventional schooling setting. The programme takes place on a farm, around 30 minutes by car from Yixing railway station. Children generally attend for approximately two hours, with ages ranging from two to six years old. English ability varies considerably. Some children can communicate confidently in English; others arrive with almost none.

At first glance, these differences appear to create considerable challenges for applying an EYFS-inspired curriculum. How do you plan appropriately for a two-year-old and a six-year-old within the same experience? How do you deliver learning in English when some children cannot understand your instructions? How do you create continuity when you do not have the predictable environment of a traditional classroom?

Interestingly, I found that the outdoor environment often provided part of the answer.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐈𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐄𝐧𝐯𝐢𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭

One of the most interesting observations was how differently English functions outdoors. Inside a classroom, we can easily fall into the trap of teaching language before children have a genuine reason to use it. We introduce vocabulary through flashcards, repeat words, ask questions and design activities intended to generate particular responses.

On the farm, language was attached to something happening right now: dig, pull, look, heavy, more water, potato. The meaning did not necessarily require translation. The child could see it, touch it and experience it.

For children with limited English, this was particularly powerful. They did not need to understand every sentence spoken by the teacher in order to participate successfully. Gestures, demonstration, repetition, objects, other children and the physical environment all provided additional routes to meaning. English became less of a subject being taught and more of a tool children could use to interact with the world around them.
 
(A nature hike: children use a map and search for a hidden treasure chest.)

𝐂𝐥𝐚𝐲, 𝐏𝐨𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚 𝐃𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫

Some of our best learning experiences were also among the simplest. One involved children digging clay directly from the ground. Rather than receiving identical pieces of modelling clay from a classroom cupboard, the children first had to find it. They dug, touched it, compared its texture with the surrounding soil, added water and eventually used what they had discovered to create their own artwork.

One activity naturally moved across several areas of learning: physical development through digging and manipulating materials; communication through discussion and shared discovery; expressive arts through creating; and understanding the world through experiencing a natural material in its original environment.

Another project involved planting sweet potatoes. The exciting part was not simply planting them. We were able to return later and dig them back out. For a young child, this makes an abstract concept wonderfully concrete: something was placed into the earth, time passed, something changed, and eventually there was something underneath the soil that they could pull out, hold and eat.

Perhaps the most memorable experience was considerably less subtle: children had the opportunity to encounter and try real machinery. Unsurprisingly, that generated plenty of excitement. But the educational value came from the authenticity of the experience. Instead of looking at a picture of construction machinery and learning the word digger, children could stand next to one, hear it, examine it and experience how it worked.

A real digger turns machinery, movement, safety and vocabulary into an authentic experience. Mr Joseph tests the equipment before the children’s experience.

𝐌𝐢𝐱𝐞𝐝 𝐀𝐠𝐞𝐬: 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐀𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐚 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐦

The two-to-six age range initially appeared to be one of the programme’s greatest difficulties. A two-year-old and a six-year-old obviously have very different developmental needs. Trying to deliver the same conventional lesson to both would make little sense. Outdoors, however, they did not necessarily need to complete the same “lesson.”

Consider digging for clay. A younger child might simply experience the sensory properties of mud and clay, practise using a small tool and learn words such as dig, wet or more. An older child might investigate where the clay can be found, compare materials, discuss why adding water changes its consistency and plan something to construct from it.

The experience can be shared while the learning is different.

This also changes the teacher’s role. Rather than attempting to move an entire group towards an identical outcome, the teacher can observe what individual children are doing and extend their learning from where they currently are. The teacher becomes less of a performer and more of a facilitator.

Close encounters with animals create different entry points for different ages: curiosity, new vocabulary, careful handling and confidence. The farm also included squirrels, goats, sheep and chickens.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐄𝐧𝐯𝐢𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 “𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐝 𝐓𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫”

This experience made me think differently about what we mean by a “learning environment.” In schools, we sometimes interpret this phrase quite literally. We decorate walls, create learning areas, laminate resources, and carefully arrange classroom furniture. All of those things can have value. But a farm already contains an extraordinary number of provocations.

There is mud after rain. There are insects underneath objects. Plants change from one visit to another. Tools have genuine purposes. The weather changes what children can do. Something planted months earlier suddenly emerges from the soil. The teacher does not have to manufacture every learning opportunity because the environment continuously produces them. The skill is noticing them.

This requires teachers who are comfortable deviating from a plan. If three children suddenly become fascinated by a worm uncovered while digging for potatoes, there is little educational value in saying, “That’s interesting, but worms aren’t on today’s lesson plan.”

Sometimes the worm is the lesson plan.

The local landscape itself becomes curriculum: exploring a nearby dam and discussing how dams and ponds are formed.

𝐑𝐢𝐬𝐤, 𝐑𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐄𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬

The Yixing setting also brought me back to the question of risk from my earlier Anji reflection. Authentic outdoor learning inevitably introduces experiences that cannot be made completely risk-free. That does not mean abandoning safeguarding. It means teaching children how to participate safely, judging what is developmentally appropriate and distinguishing a manageable risk from a genuine hazard.

Building a fire is a good example. In a conventional classroom, fire might appear in a book or on a screen. Outdoors, with careful adult preparation and supervision, it becomes something children can observe, discuss and understand: heat, fuel, smoke, boundaries, responsibility and cause and effect all become real.

(A fire-building session: risk is managed through preparation, clear boundaries and close facilitation rather than removing the experience altogether.)

𝐎𝐮𝐭𝐝𝐨𝐨𝐫 𝐃𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐌𝐞𝐚𝐧 “𝐍𝐨 𝐓𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠”

Nor does outdoor learning mean rejecting books, stories or explicit teaching. One of the strengths of the setting was the ability to move between direct teaching and experience. A story could be shared under canvas; a concept introduced by an adult could then be encountered outside; an experience from the farm could later become the subject of conversation, drawing or storytelling.
 
Christmas reading under canvas shows that books and direct teaching still have a place; the difference is that they sit within a wider landscape of experience.

𝐈𝐭 𝐈𝐬 𝐀𝐥𝐬𝐨 𝐌𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐈𝐭 𝐒𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐬

There is, however, a danger of romanticising outdoor education. Running an outdoor programme is not simply a matter of putting children in a field and allowing wonderful learning to magically happen. Yixing taught us some very practical lessons.

Location matters. Being approximately 30 minutes from the railway station creates logistical challenges before a lesson has even begun. Recruiting teachers willing to travel from Shanghai is difficult. Equipment has to be available in the right place. Weather can transform a carefully planned session. Toileting, drinking water, transportation, clothing, safeguarding and emergency procedures all require considerably more thought than they might in a conventional school building.

Outdoor teachers also need a particular mindset. Robin captured this rather neatly with a phrase that became familiar: “Love the Yixing.” That enthusiasm mattered. The strongest outdoor practitioners were not simply classroom teachers temporarily relocated to a farm. They genuinely enjoyed being outside. They were curious themselves, willing to get muddy, investigate alongside children and allow an unexpected discovery to redirect a session.

You cannot manufacture that disposition through a lesson plan.

𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐀𝐧𝐣𝐢 𝐭𝐨 𝐘𝐢𝐱𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐀𝐧 𝐋𝐘𝐈𝐒 𝐋𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐐𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

This brings me back to the ideas I explored in my previous LYIS article about Anji. The connection is not simply that both involve children being outdoors. It is about agency.

For Anji-style play, I was struck by teachers who could observe children climbing, constructing, negotiating and taking appropriate risks without feeling the need to constantly intervene. Yixing pushed that idea further for me. When the environment is rich enough, the adult does not always need to generate the learning. Our responsibility is to create access to worthwhile experiences, understand what children are learning from them, manage genuine risks and know when our intervention will extend learning — and when it will interrupt it.

This connects strongly with the LYIS value of opportunity. Perhaps one of the greatest opportunities we can give young children is not another perfectly prepared activity. Perhaps it is access to a world worth exploring.

𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬

Opening learning beyond the classroom has changed how I think about the EYFS. The framework does not have to be something delivered through classroom topics and teacher-led activities. Its principles can come alive remarkably naturally when children have access to authentic experiences.

Communication and language can happen while pulling potatoes from the soil. Physical development can happen while digging for clay. Understanding the world can emerge from discovering what has changed since the previous visit. Expressive arts can begin with materials children have collected themselves. And one experience can simultaneously mean something completely different to a two-year-old and a six-year-old.

For school leaders, the challenge is not simply to create more outdoor activities. It is to build a curriculum, staffing model and culture in which teachers have the confidence to respond to the environment rather than feeling compelled to control every learning outcome. Yixing taught me that this requires careful planning behind the scenes precisely so that learning can feel spontaneous to the child.

Perhaps the bigger question is therefore not simply “How do we take our curriculum outdoors?” but “How much learning are we already surrounded by that we have become too accustomed to notice?”

Sometimes the best thing a teacher can bring to a lesson is not another resource. Sometimes it is simply the wisdom to recognise that the environment has already provided one.

Benjamin Derrick, Director of International Curriculum, Shanghai Concord Academy; LYIS valued member.

𝐋𝐘𝐈𝐒 is proud to partner with 𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐂𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐚 𝐄𝐝𝐮𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧