Meet Jeremy: The Unexpected Lessons Hiding in a Garden

Last night, I went out to the garden to cut some Swiss chard for dinner.

Nothing particularly adventurous. Nothing planned. Just dinner.

I brought the chard inside and started preparing it when I noticed what looked like a small green leaf tucked among the greens. Except this particular leaf looked a little…different.

It was a frog.

A tiny green tree frog had apparently hitched a ride inside with our dinner.

After the initial surprise—and a little excitement—we carefully carried our unexpected dinner guest back outside, released him into a tree, and, naturally, gave him a name.

Meet Jeremy.

Sometimes the Best Learning Isn't Planned

There was no lesson plan for Jeremy.

I hadn't gone into the garden hoping to teach anyone about amphibians, camouflage, habitats, or backyard ecosystems. I was trying to make dinner.

But suddenly there were questions.

What kind of frog is he? Why was he hiding in the Swiss chard? Does he live in our garden? What does he eat? Was he there because the garden provides something he needs? And, perhaps most impressively, how did we almost mistake an entire frog for a leaf?

Those questions turned an ordinary evening task into an opportunity to learn.

And that's something I think we sometimes forget—both as parents and educators.

We don't always need to manufacture experiences for children. Sometimes we simply need to notice the experiences already happening around us.

The Garden Is More Than What We Grow

When we think about gardening with children, it's easy to focus on the obvious lessons.

We can learn where food comes from. We can measure plant growth. We can talk about soil, sunlight, water, and pollination. Children can practice responsibility by watering plants and patience while waiting for a tomato to finally turn red.

Those are all wonderful reasons to garden.

But Jeremy reminded me that a garden is much more than a collection of plants we're growing.

It's an ecosystem.

There are insects underneath leaves, worms moving through the soil, spiders building webs between plants, birds searching for food, bees visiting flowers—and apparently tiny green tree frogs hanging out in the Swiss chard.

Once we start paying attention, we realize how much life is happening in even a very small patch of ground.

Adults Get to Wonder, Too

Maybe my favorite part of experiences like this is that the learning doesn't have to belong only to children.

Adults don't have to know the answer first.

In fact, there is something powerful about saying, “I have no idea. Let's find out.”

What kind of frog is Jeremy? Why was he in the garden? What role do frogs play in a backyard ecosystem? What might his presence tell us about the habitat we've created?

Those are questions an adult can genuinely wonder about alongside a child.

When children see adults get excited about discovering something new, we're showing them something important about learning: curiosity doesn't have an age limit.

Learning isn't something we finish when we leave school.

Start With What You Notice

Experiential learning can sound like something that requires a big plan.

A trip. A project. Special materials. An elaborate activity.

Sometimes it does.

But sometimes experiential learning looks like cutting Swiss chard for dinner and discovering Jeremy.

The experience happens first. Then comes the noticing. Then the questions. Then, if we choose to follow our curiosity, the learning.

That's something any family can practice.

Go outside. Turn over a rock. Look underneath a leaf. Pay attention to which birds visit your yard. Notice what's blooming. Grow something in a pot. Watch what happens around it.

And when something unexpected appears, don't rush past it.

Stop.

Look closer.

Ask a question.

You never know when what looks like a leaf might turn out to be a frog.

And if it does, obviously, you have to give him a name.

Welcome to the garden, Jeremy.