Because parents tend to ‘help’, I have my first-years make a herbarium entirely at school. We go into the woods together. I explain everything step by step, and more than once. Even so, all sorts of things go wrong.
E. has picked stinging nettles and I burn myself on them when collecting the ring binders. Pupils stick all their leaves onto the same page instead of one leaf per page. A. missed the collecting lesson. The next time she sees ‘herbarium’ on the timetable, she brings in a fully completed one. Outside, a pupil snaps an entire frond off a fern. I take the frond and hand back a single leaflet. The rest I distribute to the others. Some pupils have brought whole chestnuts and acorns, and one has even brought a Norway spruce cone. How that is supposed to fit in a ring binder is beyond me as well.
It is more an exercise in following instructions than an actual lesson in identification or the characteristics of leaves. While they are learning to listen and follow directions, I am learning to organise. For me it is a lesson in managing transitions and classroom organisation. My first collecting lesson overruns as a result, which means the next lesson starts in disarray and has to be cut short. After the lessons I am left with newspapers, leaves and ring binders scattered across the room. I find myself wondering how my best friend manages it – she is a primary school teacher. For years I have been meaning to go and observe her class.
They are helpful, eager to please. Several pupils have picked eleven or twelve leaves, or even more. I ask whether they would like to donate them to the class, so that children who have too few can also make up their ten. They do. I ask them to bring newspaper and a ring binder from home.
It is more an exercise in following instructions than an actual lesson in identification
M. has brought extra newspapers, Y. an extra ring binder, both ‘in case someone else needs one’. Following instructions remains difficult. C. has brought a large plastic bag instead of a ring binder. ‘Because other pupils had those last time too.’ The last time he was referring to was the collecting lesson. The bags then were for putting the leaves in. Making connections is still hard.
R. has brought in a beautiful transparent leaf; I have no time to admire it. Twelve pupils are still waiting with a question. I ask him to bring the leaf in two lessons’ time – not the very next one. That will be the microscopy practical, and I won’t have time to look at it then. He nods solemnly.
On Friday, in the laboratory, he comes up to me holding a folded A4 sheet with the leaf inside. I take it carefully and have a good look. It is not a transparent leaf but one from which almost all the mesophyll has been digested, leaving only the veins. Almost all the veins, including the very finest, are still intact. Beautiful – contrary to instructions, but at last a little bit of real biology.
Amina El Ouati studied biomedical sciences, works as a biology teacher at College Hageveld in Heemstede, and is the creative force behind Juf Aminozuur on YouTube.