By Fiona (Parent, Earth and Stars Forest School)
Recently, I met Ms Melissa from NUS, one of the advocates for Gillman Forest. During our conversation, she encouraged me to write about my experience as a mother whose children have attended Forest School for the past two years.
People often ask why I dedicate three hours every week to Forest School. There’s so many other enrichment classes that’s more worth the time. The answer goes beyond simply loving nature.
My eldest daughter is an introvert who has struggled with chronic eczema from a young age. My second daughter has ADHD and dyslexia. As a healthcare professional, I had read about the benefits of nature on children’s nervous systems, brain development, gut and emotional regulation. More than that, I wanted my daughters to know there is more to childhood than academics.
So every week, we rearranged our schedules to make Forest School a priority.
At first, they complained about the heat, the insects and the long walks. But over time, those complaints were replaced with excitement. They came home telling me about birds they had spotted, fruits they had learnt to identify, and little skills like braiding dried vines into bracelets or making bird calls using a single blade of grass.
I also noticed changes that had little to do with nature itself. They became more resilient, less whiny, more curious and better at expressing their emotions. Their coaches often commented on how thoughtfully they communicated with others.
Then came the news that Maju Forest would be cleared.
My daughters were genuinely heartbroken. They worried about the animals and plants and asked if there was anything they could do. They wanted to write a letter to our MP because, in their words, they wanted to be “a voice for the animals and plants.”
That moment stopped me in my tracks.
Forest School is entirely child-led. There is no curriculum telling children what they should think about conservation. Yet somewhere along the way, they had developed a deep love for a place simply because they had spent time in it.
It felt almost magical.
Their passion also reminded me of something I had forgotten. It reminded me what it felt like to care deeply about something beyond the routines of everyday life. Somewhere along the way, as a working mother of three trying to get through each day, I had lost a big part of that.
I have always believed that children are not only here for us to teach—they are also here to teach us.
This was one of those moments.
Through their compassion for the forest, they reminded me to slow down, to notice, and to care. In trying to raise kind children, I realised they were quietly shaping me into a kinder person too.
Whether or not the forests are eventually preserved is a conversation for many stakeholders. But I do know this: forests are far more than empty green spaces. For many children, they are classrooms without walls—places of healing, discovery and wonder.
Perhaps the greatest gift nature gave my daughters wasn’t just knowledge about the forest. It was a love for something beyond themselves. And in the process, they reminded me how to love it too.
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