Lakeside School at Black Kettle Farm offers birth –3rd grade education and Farm and Forest Summer Camp based on the Waldorf philosophy on a working farm in Essex, NY.

How Hot is Hot?

By Gregg VanDeusen

Child “Gregg, I’m Hot.”
Gregg “Hi, Hot”
Child “Nooo, I mean I’m hot in my coat. Can I take it off ?”
Gregg “We’ll keep that on for now.”

That is a pretty typical exchange as the children fluctuate from cold to hot to that rare just right state of comfort. These changes can come at a rapid rate, and if there are a lot of three and four year olds, can spread like wildfire through a group.

I internally question what they are actually experiencing. What is the bar that sets their comfort level, why are some children more tolerant?

One part of the work we do here is to give the children’s senses those parameters to navigate the world successfully. The young child is challenged when determining their own well being. My job is to help give the experience, the data, to help them on their way to determine their own well being. Let me take you on one such experience and see if we can help answer the question, “are you really hot?”

The outpost is not that far from the school and it can be very simple to get there. Straight down the meadow and turn right, there you are. Every other week I try and introduce a new route to the outpost. The hope is that they are creating a mind-map, a sense of direction using the outpost as a real life waypoint. Today we are going through Birchland. This is literally a stones throw from grandfather tree, a popular destination, but you can’t see the tree, so it’s truly a new route. The goal in Birchland is to harvest trail fireworks. These birch bark tubes, when scoured to remove the rotted wood, leave a sleeve of fire fairy delight to amaze and wow any stout-hearted child. We managed to gather ten or so 12-24 inch tubes of bark. The problem is that they are cumbersome to carry. Though light, when in the hands of a five year old for a half hour walk through the woods, they likely wind up shredded and void of firework status. So how to move them to the outpost?

My idea of going to the cliff edge and throwing them down to the outpost didn’t go over well. They all said they would break. The ideas start churning; this is what the children came up with. Through previous PLAY (I emphasize this for any who doubt its power) with birch bark they know one can carry it on a stick. But ten tubes? That’s a very long stick. I am then instructed to cut a long (12 foot) pole of wood. Again through play and having sawed many a wood cookie. Someone says cedar would be the lightest.

So I find and cut and they start loading up the tubes of bark. Since I do have a rough schedule to maintain I insist that I be on the lead end. The whole apparatus is light enough for a six year old to carry so one volunteers to carry the other end and off we go around the Black Kettle Trail. Now it’s a winding trail and it is slow going so we stop for a rest on the porcupine den dip. As we rest one of the others says loudly,

“Gregg, here it is! The way through!”
I say, “what?”
“The way down the cliff!”

A couple weeks back I mused aloud how it would be cool to find a trail down or up the cliff which bisects the nature trail. I just felt there must be a reasonable way, a short cut, to chop the BK trail in half. Here it was.

Years of hiking this trail and I never saw it, blinded by the destination, not being on the journey. I immediately assess the feasibility and off we go– down hill with 12 feet of birch bark. Two of them scout ahead to find the least dense shrubbery to navigate. Another stays and helps the pole, which gets hung up occasionally. The original carrier insists she still can do it all the way to the outpost. When we reach the bottom a guide has emerged. Many of the children are still disoriented by our new route but a few are not fooled. They know we have walked this portion before. On they lead with constant updates, “were almost there guys!” Finally they see the wet moat around the rise that is the outpost.

We cross the Giants Legs and the Root Monster. Cheers go up, “We did it!” Once here I quickly set in motion our routine. We cook our egg, sausage and potato over the fire. Collect firewood. Saw branches and wood cookies. Climb the rope slope. Play through scenarios only they can imagine.

Most important today, we choose the trail Firework. It’s big, over two feet long. When all is cleaned and prepped to leave we all gather for the moment. I fan the coals a bit. I Poke a long stick in the bark and stand it on the coals. The bark smolders a bit and then smoke begins to billow out the top- amazing, living smoke. Flames begin to gut out the top like a rocket at blast off. It roars. It is so hot, really hot. Our senses filled to capacity. We all scoot back, get lower to the ground as we have learned it is much cooler there. Finally the firework collapses and burns out. Douse it with water. Stir it to cool it. Now we are ready to leave.

Do not doubt the power of experience. It cannot be replaced. You cannot read this in a book; you can’t learn it from a story told to you. This filling of the senses runs deeper than stacks of worksheets or recited alphabets. It is that which makes us who we are.

We often journey back up the long meadow, notorious for being the hottest place at Black Kettle. It is today.

Child “Gregg, I’m Hot.”
Gregg “Hi, Hot!”
Child “Nooo, I mean I’m hot in my coat. Can I take it off ?”
Gregg “Are you trail firework hot?”
Child “ No way, that’s way much hotter.”
Gregg “It is warm out, let’s tie that around your waist.”