Kids Connect with Nature through Five Points West Library Potting Classes
by Carrie Campbell, Five Points West Regional Branch Library
A good omen appeared in the Five Points West Regional Branch Library's How to Plant & Care for Succulents summer class. Our visitor, an American green tree frog, flew out of the bag of soil and over my head, and the world slowed down for a moment. The children’s mouths and eyes made perfect O’s as they awkwardly leapt onto the chairs and tables. And just as quickly as the world slowed down, shrill chaos reigned and now there was hollering.
“No, no, no, no, no!” they cried.
First, I needed to secure our new classmate, and then the hard part began: convincing our would-be gardeners that the frog was actually our friend.
This delightful bit of mayhem occurred during the third class Five Points West Library has offered for our younger patrons to pot, plant, and take home to nurture their own plants. In each class the students learn how to take care of each type of plant, and, as they’ve taken the lessons to heart, talking about care has turned into a call-and-response routine:
“Succulents belong in a dark closet, right?”
“What? No!” the children yell. “They need a lot of sun!”
“Potted Zinnia seeds need to be watered only once a week and with a tiny amount of water, right?”
“No!” they cry. “They need a lot of water in bright sun!”
“You simply cannot grow a new succulent plant out of a succulent leaf! Impossible!”
“That’s not right!” they insist. “You put the leaf in a cool dark place and wait a long time! Leaves will start to grow out of the bottom of the leaves!”
“But where do they get their water?”
“From the leaf!” comes the correct answer. “Succulents grow new plants with the water stored in their leaves!”
Most librarians who work with children want them to understand more about the natural world, and the best way to do that is to get their fingers in soil, understand the plants they’re working with, and take care of them. It’s more fun for the kids (and for the librarian, too). Our hope, through these programs and others like it, is to encourage these young patrons to recognize that they are connected to and part of the natural world. As more and more of these children’s social, educational, and entertainment options become mediated by a form of technology, libraries can play an important role in strengthening that connection.
In previous generations, that connection came, if you’ll pardon the pun, as second nature. My great aunt was a sort of Johnny Appleseed in my hometown of Dauphin Island, Alabama, and planted various native plants around the neighborhood when I was a child. Those plants somehow managed to spread from one end of the tiny island to the other. My dad taught me to watch birds as they visited the island on their way to Cuba and South America in the fall, and back through on their way north in the spring. My grandparents grew large fruit and vegetable gardens. This was all a bit miraculous for me—as were the gazillion tree frogs singing after each rainstorm that blew in from the Gulf of Mexico. They have gone, those tree frogs on the island, but I have hope when I hear our planting class’s frog, now a permanent resident in my backyard, that we can turn this around—especially for our children.
A good omen appeared in the Five Points West Regional Branch Library's How to Plant & Care for Succulents summer class. Our visitor, an American green tree frog, flew out of the bag of soil and over my head, and the world slowed down for a moment. The children’s mouths and eyes made perfect O’s as they awkwardly leapt onto the chairs and tables. And just as quickly as the world slowed down, shrill chaos reigned and now there was hollering.
“No, no, no, no, no!” they cried.
First, I needed to secure our new classmate, and then the hard part began: convincing our would-be gardeners that the frog was actually our friend.
This delightful bit of mayhem occurred during the third class Five Points West Library has offered for our younger patrons to pot, plant, and take home to nurture their own plants. In each class the students learn how to take care of each type of plant, and, as they’ve taken the lessons to heart, talking about care has turned into a call-and-response routine:
“Succulents belong in a dark closet, right?”
“What? No!” the children yell. “They need a lot of sun!”
“Potted Zinnia seeds need to be watered only once a week and with a tiny amount of water, right?”
“You simply cannot grow a new succulent plant out of a succulent leaf! Impossible!”
“That’s not right!” they insist. “You put the leaf in a cool dark place and wait a long time! Leaves will start to grow out of the bottom of the leaves!”
“But where do they get their water?”
“From the leaf!” comes the correct answer. “Succulents grow new plants with the water stored in their leaves!”
Most librarians who work with children want them to understand more about the natural world, and the best way to do that is to get their fingers in soil, understand the plants they’re working with, and take care of them. It’s more fun for the kids (and for the librarian, too). Our hope, through these programs and others like it, is to encourage these young patrons to recognize that they are connected to and part of the natural world. As more and more of these children’s social, educational, and entertainment options become mediated by a form of technology, libraries can play an important role in strengthening that connection.
In previous generations, that connection came, if you’ll pardon the pun, as second nature. My great aunt was a sort of Johnny Appleseed in my hometown of Dauphin Island, Alabama, and planted various native plants around the neighborhood when I was a child. Those plants somehow managed to spread from one end of the tiny island to the other. My dad taught me to watch birds as they visited the island on their way to Cuba and South America in the fall, and back through on their way north in the spring. My grandparents grew large fruit and vegetable gardens. This was all a bit miraculous for me—as were the gazillion tree frogs singing after each rainstorm that blew in from the Gulf of Mexico. They have gone, those tree frogs on the island, but I have hope when I hear our planting class’s frog, now a permanent resident in my backyard, that we can turn this around—especially for our children.
Comments