The Pond and Environmental Education

By Grace Kenney, Environmentalist

One of the first picture books we read together as a faculty was called “Beyond the Pond” by Joseph Kuefler. It tells the story of a boy named Earnest D. who, on an otherwise ordinary day, discovers that the pond by his house has no bottom! He and his dog explore the depths of this boundless pond and the fantastical world they find on the other side. Earnest D. then returns home to realize that his eyes have been opened to the extraordinary in the everyday. It is an example of children’s literature that is imaginative, has gentle yet complex emotions, and is ultimately about being open to new perspectives after going on a journey and seeing new things. We enjoyed this book as a model for the types of literature we were eager to share with our students, who we were months away from welcoming to their new school. Little did we know that a different type of journey was occurring at the construction site that would result in Slate School having its very own pond to explore.

The original plans for our campus included a rain garden, a depressed area in the landscape that could collect runoff from the entrance of the newly constructed driveway. This is a common low impact development technique, well suited to the environmental commitments of Slate School, where rain water could drain back into the ground and be filtered by soil and vegetation. Poised at a naturally occurring low point in the wetlands, it was seeded with plants like willow and silky dogwood. It was intended to remain a vegetated, but dry basin. However, the soil mixture that would have allowed for ideal drainage (one-third topsoil, one-third sand, and one-third compost) was not what the contractor put into the carefully excavated area. Instead, silty topsoil was accidentally used, and then realized shortly thereafter by the contractor. It prevented water from infiltrating the ground as it “should” have. Slate School, however, was thrilled by the creation of a pond and asked that the soil not be replaced. That first Fall, water from rain and the surrounding wet meadows meandered its way to this basin, and stayed. This pond, unlike Earnest D’s, most certainly did have a bottom.

The first year, the pond was not much more than a big round bowl of water. A jumble of cobbles and boulders that trailed down from the driveway and some nearby maples were the only landmarks. Visits from migrating Canada geese and passing ducks throughout the fall brought us down to the water’s edge with children, and then in the Winter its frozen surface was a laboratory for exploring ice: seeing how it cracked into different shapes and patterns, measuring its thickness, feeling how cold it was to touch, wondering about the trapped bubbles, or listening to the eerie, twanging sound of stones bouncing across the surface. In the spring, we were delighted to hear the shrill call of American toads from across the meadow, and soon enough had tiny, black, round-headed tadpoles to watch and to love throughout our last month of school together. Weekly visits allowed us to record data on water quality for Citizen Science projects and take measurements on the tadpoles' growth throughout their metamorphosis into adults.

Just a few months later, the summer’s heat had made it possible for a forest of broadleaf cattails to emerge and flourish. We were excited that the pond had become a suitable environment for these native, intriguing, and useful plants, but also recognized that it would need maintenance if we wanted to preserve any open water. Late in August, some of the teachers waded in to begin this work, trying not to lose their boots in the muck and squealing each time their fingers brushed up against the papery exoskeletons of dragonfly nymphs. Since then, the children have helped in this responsibility, and pulling up the long, starchy rhizomes never fails to elicit “oohs'' and “aahs” from all. The cattail fronds have been woven, braided into flowery crowns, and twisted into cordage. Rhizomes can be baked and eaten like an aquatic potato, and the classic “hot dog” appearance of the densely-packed flowers fascinates the children as a study of seeds, but also for their ability to be transformed into so many things with just a dash of imagination. Boats. Microphones. Unicorn horns. As the flowers begin to release their seeds to the wind and relax into a more cotton-like wad of fluff, we have often found ourselves in the midst of an early snow squall - millions of tiny floating seeds caught up in the swirling air currents of playing children.

Twice, the pond has dried up completely by the end of the summer, leaving an array of fractal patterns in the cracked mud. This has happened now once every two years, and leaves the children with questions and concern for the beloved pond. With the children, we explore it - measuring the cracks, identifying animal tracks, forging previously inaccessibly pathways through the cattail forest. We take note of the vegetation changes, and look back on rainfall data for the season. We wonder about why, and how, and what it means for a pond to dry up. What makes a pond a pond? Is it actually a vernal pool that is supposed to ebb and flow with the seasons? Where do our friends the frogs go when there is no water, and when will we hear their twanging rubber-band like croak again? What do the tree swallows, who swoop acrobatically over the water to feed on insects, think of this dry basin? Will the snails and water-boatmen ever return? Questions and theories inspire research on bodies of water, our local climate, weather patterns, and the surrounding flora and fauna. For older students, it builds into studies on drought and water shortages here and around the world, how to understand and monitor the health of our entire wetland habitat, and how environmental problems are inherently complex but can yield solutions if you invest in learning as much as possible from many points of view.

The rain throughout the early weeks of the school year have not yet failed to rehydrate the wetlands and refill the pond, and we see just how resilient nature can be. Children noticed that the pond scoops to observe the macroinvertebrate life changed drastically in just the first four weeks of water returning, from being nearly empty to having a dozen different visible organisms present in just one scoop. One of the earliest and most foundational concepts we like to explore with our youngest students is pattern. A pattern is a repeated phenomenon, and noticing patterns in everything that we see and do helps us to see the connections between ideas, subjects, and ways of life. Being surrounded by patterns you can trust helps you to feel confident and resilient when confronted with a pattern that changes. We are curious to see if the pattern of the pond drying up every other year will continue, or if it is still too early to tell.

We are unbelievably fortunate to be witnesses to the pond’s entire existence thus far. To watch a habitat like this develop and mature alongside our students is a rare opportunity gifted to us by a contractor’s mistake. Even though five years is not particularly long in the timescale of an ecosystem, or of an elementary school, the pond has seeped its way into the curriculum and culture of the school as they have coexisted from the beginning. It is hard to imagine life without it. It is a compass of the seasons, a weathervane for climate conditions, and a habitat for many forms of life including the children of Slate School. We observe it closely through the lens of a scientist, and it inspires us as writers, poets, and artists. It is a setting for play, for boat-building, frog-catching, bird-watching, and ice harvesting. For collecting and sharing meaningful data. It is a touchstone for beginning to understand other places in the world. The pond cares for us by filtering runoff and providing us with materials to create with. It is a powerful teacher. It is full of life. And it is loved. How can we care for it in return? As we develop informed methods for maintenance alongside soil experts, engineers, biologists, landscapers, environmental scientists, and, not least of all, the children, we can also honor the pond by recording its existence and its changes. One day, when no one remains who was here to witness the beginning of the pond’s life, its story can be known, and new chapters added.

Most recently, the children’s keen eyes noticed what was surprising even to many of the naturalists in the faculty - tadpoles swimming boldly around the pond in the middle of winter! It led us on a journey of research where soon the news of green frog tadpoles in Connecticut who overwinter circulated quickly around the school. They can do this to await conditions that seem most ideal for metamorphosis - a powerful lesson for each of us celebrating our own unique learning journey on a timeline just right for us.

 As Earnest D. said, “All this was hiding in a pond… How exceptional.”