10/14/2026
There's an important conversation happening about consent.
Consent comes up often at forest school, in many small ways throughout our day.
When a child approaches another on the swing: “Let’s check — do they want a push?”
When someone is uncomfortable: “I’m not sure they’re enjoying that. Let’s ask.”
When a child wants space: “They said no. I know that can be hard to hear. What can we do instead?”
When a child is upset: “May I rub your back?”
When I sit next to them: “Am I too close, or is this comfortable?”
We talk about consent explicitly, too. Noticing faces and bodies. Asking, because we can only know what someone wants if they tell us. Making space for the answer, even when it isn’t what we hoped for. Not proceeding without a “yes.”
We talk about capacity to consent. When peeing in the woods, we don’t look at certain parts of someone else’s body or show them our own, because that's too much responsibility for a child. And when someone can't consent, the answer is “no.”
When someone isn't listening, we address it without making anyone wrong or afraid to involve an adult. We work to understand, repair and move forward with more kindness.
Another aspect of consent that matters deeply to me: what happens when a child says “no” to an adult.
We are in positions of power and, to keep them safe, we sometimes make decisions they don't love.
Children learn values through their relationships with us. What we do matters more than what we say.
When I take their “no” seriously, they learn to take “no” seriously. When I stand up for a child whose “no” isn't being heard, they learn to value that too. I can model holding power while deeply respecting someone else’s autonomy.
I can get curious about what isn’t working and explore solutions together.
I want these children to deeply value consent. To notice when someone’s autonomy isn’t being respected. To stand up and say “this is not OK.”
Because someday, they will have more power. And what they choose to do with it matters.
