For Christmas this year, my mini collaborators, editors and fact checkers and I wrote a poetry series for their nature school teachers. We tried to capture the magic of this place during all seasons, all the people, places, animals and education they receive there. While some of the rhymes are a stretch, and the flow can be rocky in spots (see what I did there??) we hope the sentiment is clear:)
The Magic of Pratt
We’ve all heard it said, Pratt’s a magical place
but what makes it so, more than any old space?
The people, for one, are unlike any other
and the land is there just waiting to be discovered.
A classroom without walls? But what will they learn?
Creativity, problem solving, physics, the life cycle of a worm!
Build an intricate fairy house with tiny twigs,
sit on a log, imagine you’re driving a big rig!
What’s that you say?
It’s all “just play?”
The tiny buildings and big ways to find thrills,
all develop fine and gross motor skills.
Emotional regulation, spatial awareness, stress reduction,
physical and mental well-being, the importance of collaboration.
If they’re wondering something, they figure it out.
Facilitating learning opportunities, what Pratt’s all about.
Spark a flame, not just of fire, but learning
solving the problem of most children’s yearning;
to be heard, listened to and understood.
Only Pratt people make something this good.
In nature, neurons are connecting all over the place!
There isn’t much offered for kids where all this is the case.
A childhood as smooth as tumbled river glass,
but open to the bumps and skinned knees full of grass
teaches the ways of the world
to children whose worries can unfurl
all because of one small thing
and the great amount of joy it brings.
The magic of Pratt is in Diane, Dave and Haley,
Sara and Jessica, Adam and Melanie.
The kids get to embody their spirits
with an education they’re lucky more than just fits.
It happens seamlessly and with lots of love,
Earth, soul and Pratt are what life is made of.
Seasons at Pratt
The newly green leaves rustling under the willow
welcome spring as goldenrod sprouts in the meadow.
A time when not just the fields are in bloom,
children flourish too, if you just give them room.
Room is one thing Pratt has and it’s teachers create,
helping children learn, grow and feel safe.
A hot summer day takes you to Gold Rush,
when you wade in, relieved by the river’s cool touch.
Then, you watch vibrant leaves fall with the breeze,
as deep breaths with your buddies fill you with relaxation and ease.
Below your boots, the brown leaves crunch
while the squirrels scatter, gather and munch.
The weather turns colder and the hill’s covered in snow
until giggles and screams break the silence of the fresh fallen glow.
With a Pratt education, there’s never a time to NOT be outside,
Pratt kids boot skate, puddle jump, sun bask and mud squish with pride.
What is it about Pratt?
It’s the sticks and rocks and mud,
the beavers damming and causing a flood.
It’s Eleanor’s excited bray
when gaggles of children come running her way.
It’s Pancake and Rosie plotting their hunt
to steal some lunches and pull off quite the stunt.
It’s catching frogs by the pond,
or carving sticks into wands.
It’s hiking past Willow to get to Corner Spot
or hiding in the phragmites when the sun is too hot.
Some days it’s up to the top of the mountain
and watching the creeks flow like a fountain.
It’s water rushing under the log along mermaid beach
where you have to be careful or your crocs might sail just out of reach.
It’s using fluffy duffys as they learn to spark,
taking precise aim at archery in hopes of hitting the mark.
It’s kids not wanting to leave at pickup,
climbing just one more time to fill up their cup.
Add this all together and what do we find?
A magic childhood that stays in their mind.
And the minds of all the Pratt lives that are touched
spread the magic of this place that we all love so much.
Life of a Pratt Parent
14 pair of extra clothes, well stocked in the car,
5,000 pieces of river glass tucked inside a jar.
Rocks and sticks and stones are everywhere;
pockets, dryers, in a bed isn’t even that rare!
Stains and mud on all the things
are simple reminders of the joy Pratt brings.
Squishy squashy with each step,
excited to see their grownup
and show them the waterfall coming out of their boots
sometimes with pebbles or knotweed chutes.
Hauling that coveted branch across the street
to be brought home to a new stick family to meet,
adding to the corner of the garage pile,
laid out all together would cover more than a mile.
Collections of nature welcome, no matter what-
even boulders weighing down backpacks- no ifs ands or buts.
Being encouraged, “eat an autumn olive berry!”
puckering your way through, a little bit wary.
Oh, the things they know and the things they bring home
even the stories of Roger the gnome
hold a special place in all of our hearts,
thankful for the wisdom Pratt imparts.
Take off your glasses, it doesn’t matter,
Everything is rose colored as long as Pratt people gather.
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