When the Street Dog Moved to the Farm

Some in our community would be aware that my wife Kris and I have moved house. We’ve had what some call a “tree-change”. We live in a little village, on the property next to the community hall. It is all very small. The hall is the only gathering place; daily, local kids (only 21 attend the primary school) have music lessons most afternoons in the hall. They “serenade” Kris as she continues working remotely from her home office (a practice she has adopted since early in 2006 - small publishing houses haven’t had a “head office” for a long time now).

We cohabit our block of land - one that’s bordered by State Forest on its north side and a different state forest across the road on its southern boundary - with one of our human children (Mary), three chook children (Wilma, Betty and Pebbles) and our two fur babies (Dash the Wonder Dog and Sammy, our Texan-born “Maltese-a cross”) and a very intrusive and as yet unnamed wombat.

The other day, Sammy got lost. He wasn’t answering our calls. While Dash has been known to escape since we moved - the lure of the forest and the smells of the neighbourhood (all six houses) being too much to resist - Sammy is a homebody, most often found trying to snuggle deeper into your lap.

We couldn’t find him. He’s inquisitive and a bit deaf; was he ignoring us or lost in his sniffing? We decided to wander around our big back yard and see if we could see what he was up to; perhaps, if there was evidence of him using the wombat entrance to our property as an exit strategy. Still, nothing. At this point, my heart raced.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw a sheep jumping in the field - or so it seemed. The thing is, earlier in this article, I hadn’t omitted mentioning a resident sheep at our new home. We don’t have one … yet. (As Dash is a kelpie and rounds up sheep in his sleep, who knows what our future might look like …)

I turn my attention to the movement and realise it’s Sammy. Our grass has got soooooo long that he was jumping (some might describe it as a frolicking) through the grass like a sheep, so he can see where he’s going!! He was absolutely loving the adventure. Smiling, waggling as he hit the peak of his jump, we’d inadvertently created a new playground for him by NOT mowing our lawns! (Truth be told, it’s on “the list” - but as I witnessed the unbridled joy of our often anxious dog who had been born on the streets of Houston, the list item “mow the back lawn” slipped down the list of importance.)

It reminded me of some work done by arguably the first Christian education philosopher, someone who was definitely the first Christian curriculum developer; the 16th century academic Jan Amos Comenius. Moravian born (like my mum), I like this guy a lot (as I do my mum!).

He authored a library full of resources which described a schooling approach which was intentionally described as an experience of wonder and imagination Christian educators and children should explore together - “the garden as classroom”, “the garden as educator”, “the garden as school”, “garden learning”.  He did this by drawing on the beauty, diversity and constant flourishing of the first garden - that place where Adam and Eve communed. Their communion with God was one where learning and maturing were integral to their development; it was with the Lord God, who they knew as the Creator of both them and all that was around them.

These days, two Christian academics with Solomon-like wisdom - one in teaching Christianly - Professor David I. Smith - and the other in ethics, theology and culture - all through a Reformed tradition’s lens - Professor Matthew Kaemingk, have grabbed hold of Comenius’ thinking with both hands. (David is a long-time friend of CEN, and Matthew a strong advocate of our network.) They are working together to take Comenius’ writings and helpful instructions and examples and - 400 years later - seeking to apply it to our current schooling context.  

They encourage us to consider the purity of the Garden of Eden as a way of understanding the way God intends our education to be (with my own research interests in mind, I might even say, the shalom experience of learning :) ). Complexity, attentiveness, attachment, communal enterprise, priestly behaviour, enchantment with all that God has created, experiencing the earth God has created, playfulness and craftsmanship are nine themes they have established as foundational for a modern expression of garden learning.

Learning in the garden - seeing God in ALL His majesty, all he has created as part of OUR own story. Watching the unbridled joy of seeing a child in our school “frolicking” in the experience - unaware that anyone is looking on. Sometimes we can overthink it, sometimes we can be far too intentional and deliberate in the curation of our classroom.  

Just as is the case in all of our lives, God calls us back to His plan for how it should happen. And, if watching my little dog unashamedly exploring his new backyard is anything to go by, we should all be seeking an environment for all our students (from ages 5-18) to look in wonder, amazement and curiosity at all they encounter in their learning experience. This is the partnership we, as a school, seek to have with you, as our families.

Shalom.