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Every week at our international school in Belgium, pupils across our early years phase head off-site for a two-hour visit to the Tervuren Forest that we are fortunate to be next to.

During these visits, there is always a moment when a particular tree appears and the children, entirely unprompted, run to hug it, wrapping their arms as far around it as they can and pressing their cheek to its bark (see below).

It is a relational moment with the tree and the wider forest it inhabits that speaks of attachment, care and connection - the foundations of stewardship for the natural world.

The forest as teacher

For us as educators at the British School of Brussels, it is a moment that underlines why we believe so strongly that childhood - from its first moments - must be lived in relationship with the natural world.

And it’s why outdoor learning is not an addition to our curriculum; it is a foundation. The forest is not a setting - it is a teacher, a provocateur and a companion in inquiry.

This approach is inspired by the principles of the Reggio Emilia philosophy, with Loris Malaguzzi, the founder of the philosophy, writing: “The wider the range of possibilities we offer children, the more intense will be their motivations and the richer their experiences.”

This means viewing children as capable, competent and full of theories about the world - and seeing our job as co-researchers alongside them.

Seeing - and seeing again

One of the ways we help them develop these skills is by returning to the same places on our trips, to visit the same plants, pathways and trees.

Doing so allows something powerful to unfold. The children begin to notice subtle seasonal shifts. They observe how rain reshapes the ground, how bark changes in texture, how light filters differently through branches.

Through repetition, a relationship is formed.

The forest becomes an expansive studio, a true enabling environment. A place where children test ideas, revisit questions and construct meaning through direct experience.

Recently, while walking through the forest with our Kindergarten children, I observed a moment that captured this depth of learning.

The children began collecting sticks. Instantly, they were compared for length, thickness and texture. As we reached the top of a hill where rainwater had gathered, several children began measuring the depth of puddles with their sticks.

“Wow, the water goes up to here on my stick.”

Without prompting, mathematical reasoning emerged. As we followed the water downhill to a large puddle, a three-year-old reflected: “This is so deep because the water is collecting from the top.”

Here, measurement, comparison and cause and effect were not isolated objectives; they were lived experiences.

Real-world reasoning

Many of our inquiries often evolve from simple acts of noticing. During one forest session, children observed fungi with great wonder, paying close attention to shapes, textures and colours.

“It is like a giant wobbly marshmallow.” “This one looks like popcorn.”

Alongside imaginative language came thoughtful questions:

“Why is this one flat?” “Why do some grow on trees and some on the ground?”

Together, we gathered observations, compared what we had seen, practised the skills of scientific inquiry, observing, questioning, comparing and hypothesising. The forest became a space for wonder where children could look closely, touch carefully and think critically.

We carry much of this learning into the classroom to build on children’s interests and develop projects. For example, the children’s relationship with trees grew into the , culminating in our early years exhibition and raising funds for conservation in Belgium.

Our recent “Beauty of Ice” exhibition similarly emerged from close encounters with frost and snow, where curiosity evolved into scientific exploration.

A lifetime’s connection

Beyond curriculum objectives, though, the most profound impact is watching the children cultivate a deep-rooted connection with the natural world.

Children start to move through the forest with increasing familiarity and confidence. Jumping into deep puddles, noticing raindrops resting on branches, delighting in the slipperiness of mud.

There is a growing sense of belonging. The forest becomes known. It becomes part of who they are.

This relationship is something environmentalist David Sobel says is vital to the future of the planet: “If we want children to flourish, to become truly empowered, then let us allow them to love the earth before we ask them to save it.”

That’s why we always make sure we return to the forest.

Every visit is a step toward a generation that will care deeply, not because they are told to, but because they have experienced and loved the world for themselves.

Esther O’Connor is early years team leader at The British School of Brussels