Part of my job is to watch other people’s children climb trees. I run an outdoor program for children that is centered around play, and for some kids, climbing trees is where it’s at. When I’m stationed at the climbing trees on our site, I often have many things going through my mind at once: memories of how it felt to climb trees when I was a child, analysis of how this particular child is tackling the task of climbing, and of course, my mind can fill with all the ways that this experience could go wrong and the child gets hurt.

Some of the kids in our programs have been climbing trees for years and they have a comfort and ease about them as they climb. They have experience using their body as a whole – their muscles work together as they support their weight first with their arms and then with their legs, gripping and releasing with their hands. They are enthralled with height and as they look down at us mere mortals below, they wish they had wings to fly.

Some of the kids in our programs have never climbed a tree and they are equally impressed by how easy some kids make it look and the fact that no one is stopping them. They may shout to those who are already climbing to “be careful!” and “you’re going to get hurt!” They have been trained to expect the worst when taking this sort of risk.

But as they watch and feel the hard ground beneath their feet, eventually some of them begin to climb. They may look over at me occasionally, checking to see if I’m watching, and perhaps trying to gauge whether they are in danger or not. This indicates to me that they have not developed their own inner gauge that lets them know if they are pushing past their capabilities and allows them to assess a risk. Because there really is only one way to help our children develop this all-important skill – by letting them try stuff, at their own pace and within reason. Children need to have chances to push the boundaries of what they know, so they can grow and change.

But I keep all of this to myself as I watch them go back and forth between struggle and success, one branch at a time. All they need from me in those moments is acknowledgement – I see you! You’re doing it! It’s hard, but you’re trying! Maybe they don’t get past the first set of branches, but the glow on their faces shows me that they know they are making progress and are riding the edge of their learning curve. Their internal motivation system is activated, helping them to push past feelings of discomfort to achieve a goal. It may not happen today; they may jump down and run off to do something else. But then before you know it, they are back, mastering the skill of climbing up one branch, getting ready to tackle the next one. One branch at a time. At their own pace.

These are the moments when I know I’m in the right line of work – holding a space for children to develop skills for life, skills that they will take with them forever.