There are plenty of children’s songs and poems written to
instruct on and build appreciation for nature. One issue is a great lot of
these are clearly written with temperate landscapes in mind. So often we see trees with leaves that
turn color and fall in the Autumn, followed by winter snow, spring flowers, the
arrival of spring birds, etc. Moreover, didactic songs and literature concerning
the months and seasons are clearly from a Northern Hemisphere perspective.
This relates to a broader issue
I’ve known about, in part thanks to Portland State University Anthro Prof
Jeromy Spoon, who clewed me into the fact that international environmental
education efforts are often severely lacking in local knowledge. Children are
taught about globally renowned and charismatic species like lions and
elephants, but less about the creatures they are likely to encounter in their
local setting. This has been connected with declining interest in local
environmental stewardship in places like the Himalayas.
Children’s
songs about nature, flora and fauna, even when not concerned with endangered,
charismatic big game, are still distinctly products of their place of
authorship. This is acute in the context of English instruction. English
language folk songs, unless composed ad hoc or from good translation, are
almost certain to come from an English-speaking country. Not surprisingly, the
British Isles, with their lengthy English-speaking history, are probably the
most bountiful source.
This isn’t all bad mind you. One
asset an international foreign language instructor like yours truly brings is
the fact that this person carries a cultural experience. When children learn my
native tongue, they also learn about my culture and background. This can help
with memory, and gives the children a broadened perspective of the globe. But
environmental knowledge need not be language specific. There’s no good reason
why speakers of English as a second language should necessarily be unable to
think or communicate about their own native environment when talking to me in
my native tongue. This little private school in Ha Noi I’m working at just now
is a “Waldorf Steiner” school, which means a particular enthesis on nature
education and naturalistic learning. Yet in Vietnam, the “caw!” of a crow, is not
the ubiquitous thing it is an many countries, the eponymous call of a Common cuckoo is not a harbinger
of Spring or summer like it is in England, swallows do not disappear in the
winter, and one is far more likely to
hear a red-whiskered bulbul in the garden than some of the celebrated figures
of English song and heraldry, like the European Blackbird or European Robbin.
There are plenty of examples of how
certain creatures have expanded their notoriety well beyond their natural range
or even body. That’s to say nothing of the problem of spreading invasive
species, which is a significant issue of global concern about which books have
been written, but purely species expantion through media and culture. Think the
disproportionate ubiquity of the sounds of the red-tailed Hawk, the
Great-horned Owl, or the Pacific Chorus frog. These are creatures whose voices
you can almost guarantee are being misapplied when heard in media. The consequences
lie where we actually want people to know, respect, and discuss the living
things that inhabit the space around them. International language instruction
unfortunately has the potential to promote Environmental ignorance on a local
scale, where it is typically most important. For someone like me, who still has
much to learn about his host country’s natural environment, it is a quandary
indeed.
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