Stories in action: How Narrative Journey
can help children to be active outdoors
Institute of Outdoor Learning National Conference, Loughborough
17th-18th October 2014
This workshop explores practical ways of using narrative to engage children’s
interest in nature by linking stories to landscape features through navigational
and motivational marking. Incorporating a blend of practical interactive
experiences with theoretical concepts about outdoor play and formal learning,
participants undergo a mini quest to journey through a landscape foraging for
objects and experiencing the environment in a playful, embodied way.
Participants will share experiences and then ‘unpack’ any learning and relate it
to outdoor learning contexts, but especially work that encourages learners of
all ages to be physically active. The session will be thought provoking, playful
and involve active participation.
Philip Waters is a doctoral student at the European Centre for Environment
and Human Health, University of Exeter Medical School, Play Project
Coordinator at the Eden Project, Cornwall, United Kingdom, and Director of I
Love Nature, a training and consultancy company. With an interest in
children’s fiction and a career of over 18 years working in various children’s
environments, Phil’s research brings together play, narrative, and nature
within a visual methodological framework that aims to develop critically a form
of praxis called “Narrative Journey.” He is a keen writer, filmmaker, and storymaker, and enjoys bringing these elements together in his research with
children.
Introduction
Stories, Storying and Being Storied
We are storying animals, leading and living our lives in a narrated world. Much
of what we do, even when we are asleep, is about narrating our experiences of
the world around us, and of course, the world within. Narrative is a vehicle for
making meaning of our experiences and for expressing them to others so that
we can share commonalities. But we are also storied beings. People tell stories
about each other, about our place in the world and about us as individuals. We
even story ourselves, noticeable when we reflect on past events, previous
adventures and recount these to our friends down the pub, at a dinner party,
in the playground. In this sense, we create special places or particular arenas in
which to tell particular types of stories, and place ourselves as protagonists or
antagonists within those stories. And, of course, stories are entities in their
own right; many having abandoned their creators to go out into the world and
act independently. Think of a story you know well and chances are that story
will sit more tightly in your memory than the author of that story. We can, in
understanding stories as independent entities, think of them as specific
cultural reference as well as different states of being.
Narrative Journey – an overview
Narrative Journey is a pedagogic approach for inciting children’s interest in the
natural world by using story cues and story framing to orient children’s
attention towards learning possibilities within the landscape. Unlike traditional
storytelling methods, wherein fully-formed stories are presented to an
audience by a teller, Narrative Journey involves giving just enough narrative to
inspire action, an approach not dissimilar to Story Stems used in psycho-social
work with children. Moreover, Narrative Journey praxis relies on a playful and
flexible relationship that situates learning within place-based interactions that
are child-centred and socially, culturally, and ecologically sensitive.
Reading landscapes – stories, place and ecological literacy
For the most part, Narrative Journey is used as a tool for supporting children’s
connectedness to nature by supporting place-based learning and for
developing ecological literacy. Imagine, for example, reading landscapes as if
they were a good novel, and likewise, the writing of stories onto landscapes to
help children journey through those places; hence the term, Narrative Journey.
In this context narrative techniques are used to support place attachment. It is
worth noting that in this context stories are inherently situated in the places
they are created and may not work in other locations or contexts.
Stories in Action – and the collaborative story walk
Narrative Journey praxis is not about making stories to be told later in some
other time or place, as we’re not so interested in storytelling, although that’s a
very worthwhile profession and does have some relationship to this approach,
but rather, we’re interested in story making. To some extent we might think of
ourselves as story architects, or even story choreographers. We create the
frames and context for stories to emerge, but we don’t own the stories. The
players do. In this sense stories are always in action, always evolving and
always in a continuous flux of creation. We should not, if we do our work well,
ever have a story reach a conclusion, an end point. But this is not a hard and
fast rule because in some cases some players might want a story to end so as
to feel some satisfaction, some natural conclusion. But as we all know, stories
go on to live as entities in their own right, in the minds, literature and gossip of
other people as they all narratively coalesce.
Concepts and applications:
Story structures
How are stories put together? What turns a ‘narrative’ into a story?
There are and have been a variety of story structures used in literary works
throughout history, the most notable being Aristotle’s three-act structure with
its simple beginning, middle and end, or what is technically called the protasis,
epitasis, and catastrophe. There is also Gustav Freytag’s 5-act pyramid, which
involves an exposition (opening description), followed by rising action, a
climax, falling action and then resolution.
http://paulgorman.org/writing/dramatic_structure.php
And there are more elaborate variants on this, including 6 and 8-part
structures. However, one that I often use, because of its capacity to create a
‘questing’ composition, is based on the work of Joseph Campbell’s ‘hero’s
journey’. You might find Chris Vogler’s book, The Writer’s Journey, a good
introductory text, of which I have adapted the outline below:
1. The story begins with the hero living life in an ordinary world. Here the scene is set;
we get to know who the hero is.
2. The hero then receives a call to action; that is, something inspires or incites the hero
to step out of her ordinary world.
3. The hero refuses the call to action. They don’t see themselves as a hero, and they
don’t wish to face any foes or their own fears.
4. The hero then encounters their mentor; often a wizened character with worldly
knowledge and useful skills.
5. Accepting their fate, the hero crosses the first threshold, and leaves their ordinary
world.
6. Now in the special world, the hero encounters many tests, forges alliances and
makes enemies. In the new world it is hard to distinguish allies from foes.
7. In the new world the hero encounters the inmost cave; the edge of a dangerous
place, often where the quest is hidden.
8. Once in the inmost cave, the hero confronts his greatest fear, enemy or hostile force,
and undergoes the ordeal. This is the darkest moment for the hero.
9. Surviving the ordeal, the hero seeks her reward, which could be treasure, a weapon,
a kiss, a magic cure…
10. As the hero escapes with the reward in hand, he takes the road back home. This is
often the most perilous road.
11. Just as the hero feels safe, there is the resurrection; one last test; one last dark
moment, usually involving the antagonist having one last attempt to sever the hero’s
return to safety.
12. The hero, having defeated the antagonist, returns to her ordinary world with the
elixir; the reward claimed earlier in the quest, or a new-found reward such as
bravery, knowledge or a loved one.
See image below:
http://coschedule.com/blog/tell-a-story/
Genre and themes
If you were to tell a story, off the cuff, what genre would it be?
What is genre? What allocates a story into a particular genre? In educational
work we tend to think more about themes than genre. So whether using a
thematic approach, or genre approach, are there particular genres suitable to
outdoor work with children? Think of the ‘travel and adventure’ genre, or in
children’s play, fantasy, mythology and historical narratives. I generally go for a
combined historical/mythological fantasy theme, as it allows me to represent
reality in unusual ways, which helps dissolve the barriers between children and
adults, power and positioning. Make-believe worlds can of course have a basis
in reality, and we might draw on reality to create artificial worlds. A question
we might ask ourselves, then, is do we have a leaning towards particular
genres? I do, I like fantasy and mythology. But even if you don’t you could
arrange a Narrative Journey within a particular genre because it suits your
intended outcome. A natural science teacher might use a ‘crime scene’ or
investigation theme to teach children about different rock formations, or
fossils, and have children dig them up in the same way they would an actual
crime scene. Within this genre all sorts of characters, ways of being, artefacts
could be used. Factual data can be embedded within a fictional world with
fictional characters, yet still serve to satisfy some specific learning outcome.
Story beginnings, motivators and ‘calls to adventure’
What is it about the human condition that we feel the need to seek out
adventure and learn about ourselves and the world around us? To some extent
we are all explorers born to engage with the world. Eager and hungry for
knowledge and experiences. However, for many of us and for many of the
protagonists in stories, what compels us to venture is rarely a desire from
within, but rather, a ‘call to adventure’. An incitement that beckons us to take
action. Be it run from a monster, an overpowering partner, or from ourselves.
All stories, without exception, rely on some motivation that propels the
protagonist forward and into the unknown. In fact, it is the protagonist’s
‘journey’ that makes a story compelling, more so if we can relate that journey
to our own life experiences. As in play, it is the doing and the making that we
place most emphasis for learning, and not the product or end of a story. Doing
and being are important concepts in Narrative Journey praxis. When we create
‘calls to adventure’, we must treat them as motivators, or story beginnings that
might compel children to venture forth into the world, even if it is an artificial
narrated world. The adventure, the unfolding story, must belong to the
‘protagonist’, or rather, the player, as it is their journey you facilitate and not
your own. Calls to adventure come in many guises and while they might be at
the beginning of an adventure, and are the reason you exit your ‘ordinary
world’, they might also come in different forms as you start to venture or
journey in the ‘new world’. We discussed an array of ‘calls to adventure’ or
‘calls to action’ in your quests. Was the primary call to action the seeking out
of the ‘underpants’? Or was it to protect your village from being trampled by
the giant? Or was it a personal journey to find something out about yourself;
as character or your actual self as practitioner?
Narrative Cues and Story Stems
Relating to the ‘call to adventure’, we may offer such a call through narrative
cues, or invitations, or story hooks. These might be verbally given, as in picking
up a leaf and exclaiming it to be a ‘fairy’s wing’ and then seeing how children
respond to the cue. But narrative cues can come in other forms, like picking up
an object and sniffing it and watching how children respond to the behaviour.
Narrative Cues are similar to the story stem approach used in therapeutic work
with children. They are the opening or beginning of stories that are yet to be
created. They are motivators. Children may or may not act on them. The
practitioner might use specific cues, such as verbs, to orientate children’s
actions towards specific outcomes. Thus, if practitioners are keen to encourage
children to be physically active in the natural environment they could give a
cue that emits some form of urgency, like shouting: “Run! The troll is coming.”
If one wanted to support environmentally pro-active behaviours, one might
suggest an ‘old tree’ needs a hug, and so on. Practitioners might give
continuous cues through an evolving story if the outcome to do so necessitates
such a position. The point to remember is that Narrative Journeys are
collaborative. While we might give cues to orientate behaviour we must always
let children respond to the cues as they see fit, and not force or navigate their
behaviour in a direction that counters their own questing spirit. It is a sensitive
and mindful journey we take when narratively coalescing with children.
There is also a difference between passive storying and active storying. The
latter tends to be more engaging. It keeps the story alive, puts ‘blood in the
veins’ of the story, creates and maintains energy. Passive Narrative Journeys
are more likely to be about giving instructions than generating the framework
for adventures to be had. Narrative Journeys on the other hand are active, in
the moment, happening and obvious. In this sense actions are narratives in
themselves, and often do not require verbal signifiers. Much of our behaviour,
and especially the behaviour of children, revolves around non-verbal
communication. It is in the moment, continuously unfolding and continuously
in the flux of creation and interpretation. In this sense stories do not exist until
the moment players narratively coalesce. And it does this via physical
manifestations as much as it does through verbal expression. Think of your
whole body as a storying tool, which is not that far from the mime artist or
dancer. There are many fields of interest to us here, including dance, drama
and physical literacy, so please do explore beyond the boundaries of how we
typically consider narratives and stories. In its basic form narratives are merely
symbols in which we attach or express meaning about the world. There are
many other ways of thinking about symbols and communication; but now
we’re getting into the field of semiotics, so I’ll leave it there until I write my
book!
Thresholds
When working with adults or children it is important to establish a boundary
through which we can enter into a storying world. I have a tendency to use
portals, but thresholds can be anything; a doorway, stepping over a log,
scrambling through a bush, or simply closing your eyes then opening them
again. The purpose of the threshold is to justify a new reality where things
might happen differently than in everyday reality. Thresholds give permission
for players to be someone else, to act in ways different to normal behaviour.
Thresholds give the facilitator opportunities to support transitions into a
specific learning or playful environment, and control the entrance and exit into
that world. Thresholds signify story v not story, play v not play, and reality v
make-believe. Outside of the storied world, story facilitators control all of the
conditions or parameters, they set the overarching context for the story that is
about to emerge. They are, in many respects, the ‘architect’ for the storied
world and narrative journey experience; they design the framework in much
the same way a computer software designer creates a gaming world. Once
inside, players engage in their own way evolving the story collaboratively; the
work of the story’s architect is mostly done, and so she steps away.
Thresholds perform another duty. They allow the architect to control time, to
set the timeframe for the experience, which is particularly useful for story
closures. They also have a secondary function; they can inject pace, energy,
drama and tension. “If you don’t reach the portal in time…” That sort of thing.
Characterisation and identity
While it’s not appropriate for the facilitator to allocate characters to
individuals, it might be important to help individuals find, or invent their own
character. One reason for this is to help them quickly adjust to being in a
make-believe world. Many adults, and some children too, struggle to step out
of themselves into an imaginary play world. While not strictly orienting this
towards ‘role play’, which serves to render the bravest of us to go wobbly at
the knees during training sessions, here, characterisation is more about
adopting a new persona through which you can view and experience the world
differently. Think of it as playing with dolls, or with a glove puppet; you are
your own glove puppet. It’s still you, just wearing a different self. I use
characterisation to help children see me as someone new, rather than the
‘Phil’ they might know outside of the storying world; Phil the researcher,
playworker, teacher, etc. The role I often adopt is a character called Professor
Fungus Hedge, intrepid explorer of all things odd, strange and peculiar, but
maintaining a nature theme. More importantly, this role favours a particular
archetype which I find appropriate for facilitating Narrative Journeys; the
Mentor. Jungian archetypes are beyond the scope of this session (wait for the
book!), however, they are an important ingredient within Narrative Journey
praxis. The mentor, by example, let’s me take the position of a wizened old
man who is both knowledgeable and vulnerable because of his age and agility.
He has power, but can relinquish that quickly to the fledgling protagonist. In
stories the world over, and again, linking back to Joseph Campbell’s Hero’s
Journey, the mentor appears to support the protagonist as they first venture
out into the ‘new world’. They often equip the protagonist with weapons,
tools, powers, knowledge and skills, that might, at some point, serve the
protagonist’s needs. Needless to say, the role is a powerful one but serves the
facilitator well for being able to use continuous narrative cues throughout the
journey. Important to this particular role, however, is that eventually the
mentor is superseded by the trainee; thus you have to eventually retire, or, in
this case, let the trainee do their own thing. It’s a good reason to step away
from the action and retreat into the back of the unfolding story. As educators,
this is a good position to adopt because it enables learners to adopt their own
learning styles and strategies.
Story Arcs
Although this could be discussed within the context of story structures, I have
allocated it to its own category so we can explore its educational praxis
qualities. A story arc is an extended or continuing storyline in episodic
storytelling that generally unfolds over long periods. You see this in longrunning dramas and soaps. For those of you working with the same children in
a setting there might be an opportunity to develop a Narrative Journey that
adopts a story arc over many weeks, even months. The caution is maintaining
interest and keeping up motivation. The purpose of the story arc is to move a
character or a situation from one state to another, so as to effect change.
Therefore it has potential as a method for environmental education where
transformation is an important ingredient within learning programmes. In this
context running a single narrative theme as a story arc can be very powerful. I
gave an example of a weeklong training programme that used an episodic
narrative to train interns to be nature-play activists.
http://www.supersavvybusiness.com/internet-marketing-news/using-story-arcs-on-social-media
Story Framing/Framing stories
Frames are basically containers for narrative activity. Our role as practitioners
is to use story framing to create certain types of conditions for children’s
thematic play. In doing so we use a framing approach that’s relevant to our
practice. Thus a PE teacher might be inclined to use a frame that’s about
orienting physical activity; an environmentalist might frame ecological
principles; while a playworker contextualises the frame to support free play. As
architects of stories, frames are the broad context in which stories are created
and within which narrative has a relationship with children and their
environments. In this sense frames are broader than genre, because genre is a
literary device, whereas frames are a praxis device. You might think of genre as
you would the style of a house; such as the difference between a Victorian
house and a country cottage. Frames on the other hand are more like the
scaffolding you use to build your house. It doesn’t matter if you’re building a
Victorian house or country cottage, you still need the scaffolding, the frame.
Plotting devices
Plots are sequences of events that set out the substance of a story. It is, to
some extent, the central hook that keeps a ‘reader’ interested. Plots, in the
context of Narrative Journey praxis consist of a series of narrative cues that are
strung together to form a recognisable sequence. Plots carry the story by
acting as the backbone for events and interactions. They are the reason
characters might be together. Think of plot as a type of glue that keeps a story
together. In this context, plots are tightly bound with genre. Boy meets girl,
falls in love with girl, another boy gets in the way and distracts girl, original boy
and girl drift apart, but then later get back together again… is a typical plot
sequence one would expect of a romance story. In a situation where Narrative
Journey praxis was orientated towards physical education, I would be more
likely to use an action plot sequence to enable participants to have action on
and in the environment. For example, a physical activity sequence consisting of
warm ups, periods of high and low intensity exercise, followed by periods of
rest, translates rather well in narrative terms as a hunting or being hunted by
monsters plot sequence.
Tipping Points
If the purpose of narrative journey is to facilitate children’s nature experiences,
rather than structure them, we should be mindful of knowing when to give a
cue, mentor, facilitate, and when not to. One method which is helpful in being
mindful is to look for narrative tipping points; that is, if you see children
running with an idea, story, or call to adventure, then withdraw and observe
the magic as it evolves. Stories need to act on the world, or on the players. It
needs to be left alone to do its work, whatever that work might be. That
doesn’t mean you have to withdraw from the storied world, but the tipping
point might signal a decrease in involvement. A cautionary warning, just
because you don’t see narrative tipping points, doesn’t mean you relentlessly
continue to give cues until children’s play is completely adulterated by your
own ideas or structure; this will leave the children feeling flat and overly
structured. It might be that children are narratively strong in their play and
their own narrative themes, and so these must be promoted and elaborated.
Of course, if their own stories are evolving you might rather slot into them and
be guided, or even ‘narratively cued’, by them, rather than create something to
which they are unfamiliar.
Narrative-based Affordances and Action Potentials
We know that most species interact with their environments on a perceptual
level, seeking potential in the environment to satisfy some need – foraging for
food to satisfy hunger, etc. Our perceptual systems are designed to help us in
this task; moreover, we have embodied and tacit ways of learning that put us
in an immediate dialogue with our environment. We do, however, have to be
mindful that we sometimes socially and culturally ignore some affordances
over others, so narrative can play a part in helping children identify
affordances that are otherwise suppressed, blanketed, or restricted. If, for
example, children are constantly encouraged not to climb trees, they might not
see the potential in climbing a tree that has low lying limbs, and so a narrative
cue could orient them towards that action potential. In this case, narrative
cues are used to reinforce affordances and highlight action potentials, and to
some extent, break cultural barriers by giving permissions to children to act on
the world in ways that might have in the past been dissuaded.
Narrative economy and economies
We all have our own narrative economy, and borrow and exchange narrative
from the economies of others. Economy simply means human activities
concerned with the production, distribution, and consumption of goods and
services; where goods and services in this context are stories and narrative. We
are storying beings, living our lives in story every day. Pretty much all of our
experiences are conveyed through stories and storying our lives. You can
consider Narrative Journey as one way we contribute towards children’s
developing and evolving narrative economies. In my work, I tend to use a
fantasy genre to frame children’s narrative interactions as a playful narrative
economy. Narrative economy is not so much a psychological way of being, but
rather, it’s a way of looking at how narrative works between and within
communities of people. Important here is to recognise that children have their
own narrative economies as well as operate in the narrative economies of
others. This term also implies a social aspect to the way stories work and
function. In Narrative Journey praxis both the practitioner and children are
players and all bring something unique to the narrative mix. Moreover,
children borrow narrative from other people’s narrative economies; think of
the fairy tales that might inform children’s play. What shapes your narrative
economy?
Narrative thirding
In a narrative economy, stories are exchanged, adopted and adapted to suit
varying needs and purposes. When two players come together their individual
narratives give way to a third narrative, not belonging solely to any one player,
but belonging to both as they narratively coalesce. This is narrative thirding.
Exciting things happen in this third narrative space. It is here that the magic of
collaborative story making comes to the fore. It is in this space that many
previous stories lend narrative material for the creation of new stories. Think
of it as a narrative birthing space, or story nursery. Some stories will capture
the imagination of other players and entice them into the narrative mix, while
others will simply fizzle away. A Narrative Journey practitioner, if invited into
this space, has to be cautious about not dominating the thirding process. In my
work with Narrative Journey, the environment, and certainly physical artefacts
in the environment, also contribute to narrative thirding. A stick might
immediately serve the purpose of battling a troll; it becomes a sword. In some
cases the object isn’t just adopted into an ongoing and unfolding story; the
object might even shape or re-direct the story into a whole new narrative. In
this context inanimate objects are not that inanimate. They are passively
active! Imbued with story credential by storying animals.
Narrative tagging
As Narrative Journey is primarily about the way we support children’s
connections to the natural world, one simple and effective way of encouraging
this relationship is through the naming, or tagging of landscape features. These
may be descriptive, like ‘Flatty and Pointy’, or the ‘Icing’. Others might be a
reference to a factual or fictional past. It doesn’t take much of a leap of the
imagination to see the potential for this method; teaching geography and wayfinding are both good examples.
Site-specific performances and site-specific narratives
All narratives emerge within a context, often in a specific location or place. In a
great number of stories the place is crucial to the understanding of that story,
or the plot, or the characters. In practicing Narrative Journey, site-specific
adventures might not be as easily transferred to other places because the new
place might be lacking all the necessary qualities that were required for the
original storying process. That’s not to deny, of course, that we can’t use parts
or even all of the stories we help create in other contexts, it’s just we have to
be mindful about place-based narrative cues that are specific to those places.
Think of a story you know that is firmly located within a specific place, or a
memory of an event from childhood and where that event took place. How
much is that story conditioned by the location?
And finally… Letting Stories Breathe
Arthur Frank, in his aptly titled book: Letting Stories Breathe, eloquently
suggests that, as storying beings narrative is largely a social affair and that for
stories to work their magic we must let them go; let them act on the world in
their own way. In doing so they must depart from the story teller or maker,
and act alone in the world much the same way a child eventually leaves home.
We can probably list countless stories that have had huge impacts on people
and societies independently of their original authors. In Narrative Journey
terms letting stories breathe is a shorthand for how, as practitioners, we must
let go of the narrative cues we offer children as quickly as possible, so that we
can observe their work and watch how children integrate them into their own
narrative economies. But more than this it is about observing, and perhaps
even recording, how these stories go on to act on children (and adults) and
what part the landscape plays in all of this.
Philip Waters
Email: info@ilovenature.org.uk
Email: pwaters@edenproject.com