Earlier this week, I dropped my kids off at a day camp in a park in London and then congratulated myself all the way home. The summer holiday is long and camp programmes are expensive, and when you sign up for one, there is a hard-to-resist expectation that the kids will be not only entertained but improved – physically (swimming lessons), morally (team games – specifically rounders) and, in the case of the camp we signed up for, spiritually. By which, of course, I refer to two sacred words in the middle-class lexicon: forest school.
I should say I’m completely down with the broad mission of forest school. Adults and children are improved by spending time in nature; studies and experience show this. There is a difference, however, between forest school the movement, a laudable push to get kids learning outside based on ideas that stretch back to the 19th century and popularised in the 1950s by, of course, the Scandinavians, and forest school, the modern marketing and business initiative. It reminds me of the catnip status latterly occupied by Mandarin lessons in the New York state primary system, which, when my three-year-olds started pre-school in 2018 – one of them still wearing pull-ups – saw them slogging each week through a mandatory class. There is nothing wrong with learning Mandarin, but it is perhaps not a priority for people who can’t use the toilet yet.
