Early in the year, the class spent 20 minutes just sitting quietly in the garden. They were armed with a pencil and notebook. Their job was to find a special spot on their own and then sit, notice things around them and record their thoughts in their notebook…

I made myself comfortable to enjoy the moments of solitude. Oscar looked bored and disengaged. He sat on an old bench and was clearly lost in his own thoughts but looked as though he felt that this activity wasn’t for him. Was this just a meaningless school task? His gaze didn’t seem to extend beyond the table, his legs and arms. He was restless. He tried to look around, but wasn’t really ‘seeing’ what was around him. He was disconnected. He didn’t see the butterflies. He missed the bug that flew in front of him. It seemed like he had an invisible veil cast over his head.

In the Kangaroo Apple behind Oscar a silvereye was quietly calling and feeding on the yellow berries. Oscar was oblivious. I gave him a wave and pointed to the tree. He didn’t see the bird but he could hear something. Something changed in Oscar. He suddenly started to actively look. The bird in the Kangaroo Apple stopped calling and flew away. But Oscar kept searching for it with his eyes and ears.

A pair of Gang-gang cockatoos was flying towards us, calling their familiar ‘rusty door’ creak. I wondered if Oscar would notice and watched and waited. Oscar heard the sound and his head snapped up quickly locating the birds and watching intently. Oscar’s manner had gone through a transformation.

In this instance at least, the veil had been lifted.

All I needed to do to connect him with the natural world around him was give him the opportunity to sit quietly in a school garden and then point out a small bird which he could only hear. Oscar did the rest.

What’s next for Oscar?