Through a child's eyes

Limehouse Basin, Tower Hamlets

 Last week me and about thirty noisy kids went for a walk around Limehouse Basin, an upmarket marina in Tower Hamlets just off the Thames. I was there in my capacity as a (new) education volunteer for the Canal and River Trust (CRT), the organisation which looks after Britain's inland waterways. The class-load of children were there to learn about canals, locks, boats, water and wildlife.

It's been many years since I worked with eight and nine-year-olds (I did qualify and work as a primary teacher for a while) but I can tell you that basically not much has changed; they are still curious, noisy, well-behaved and unruly, easily distracted, and excited by the simplest of things. Not that I was in charge - my Barring and Disclosure clearance hadn't come through yet, and until it does (and certifies me as not wanted by the police and free from convictions) - I cannot take charge of the kids. I was there mainly to observe.

And anyway, their teacher - 'Miss' (some things never change) - was officially in charge, supported by a handful of parent helpers to ensure the correct adult-child ratio.

With observation sheets and pencils in hand, the gaggle of gongoozlers was led by Travers, a well-established CRT education volunteer. He began by drawing their attention to the various pictures in their sheets, to pique their interest in spotting coots, swans, historic structures, a lock, bird rafts (floating reed beds for nesting), and so on, and then we set off around the basin.

I was tempted to challenge the kids to see how many millionaires they could spot, since the borough of Tower Hamlets is definitely pricey, but that wasn't part of the observational tasks. Instead I joined in the coot-count (16 for me). Turns out that coots are the most common birds at Limehouse, their black feathers highlighted with a blob of startling white just above their equally white beak, which makes them easy to distinguish from the other wildfowl such as mallard ducks.

Eurasian Coot (Wikimedia Commons: R H Walpole, UK)

We stopped at the lock that enables boats to drop down from the end of the Regent's Canal and into Limehouse Basin. Hoping to introduce the concept of canals and locks, Travers asked the kids, 'Where do you find locks?' 'Doors!' came the chorus of answers. He looked a bit tired at that point.

The lock at Limehouse isn't the best example to illustrate how boats can move up or downhill - it's actually two locks side by side, but one is now redundant and has been turned into a weir. The other was empty, with no boat activity to show it in action. We moved on, the concept of locks best left for the warmth and whiteboards of a classroom.

The murmuration of marine explorers had their attention directed to the boats moored in the basin. Travers pointed to one older boat which would have been used to ferry goods up the Thames 'in the old days'. 'What would be carried in old ships like these?' he asked the kids. 'Treasure!' came the enthusiastic replies. 

An old working barge (actually based at Ellesmere Port).

We established that 'cargo' was the word we used when generally talking about goods transported by boat. It wasn't as exciting as treasure, but it is in fact the prime reason our canal system exists; boats in the 18th, 19th and early 20th centuries carried all manner of cargoes on the inland waterways, from silica for glass-making, cotton, and coal, to grain, cement and fertiliser. And passengers.

 

The orbit of Limehouse also included some basic science. In the guide sheet there's a section on water quality. The kids have to predict, by placing a tick on a scale from one to five, what they think the water clarity might be (without having seen it up close at this stage). Only one ticked box five for 'Very Clear', all the other ticks were in boxes one to three, ranging from Very Dirty to Average.

While they were doing this my job was to nip down to a pontoon and fill a clear drink bottle with water from Limehouse Basin, and keep it hidden from the kids until they were ready for 'the reveal'. After a countdown of three I brought the bottle out from behind my back and flourished it like a magician does with a bouquet of flowers pulled from his sleeve. It was sparklingly clear, much to the surprise of my entranced audience.

The Thames from Limehouse - not so sparkling

Our conversation then centred around swimming, whether it would be safe, whether you could drink the water, and why the answer is no to both (way too cold, plus the clear water could still harbour nasties that could make you sick), but the point we were highlighting is that the water is certainly clean enough for fish, eels, and dragonfly larvae. Hopefully back in the classroom Miss would expand on the environmental aspects, but the opportunity for detailed discussion at the basin was limited.

As I walked with the children from point to point they chattered excitedly and inquisitively about some of the boats they could see, and when they found out that I'd lived on board a boat for a whole year they wanted to know all about that too. 

For me it was a delight to work with these future adults, particularly at an age where, for them, the world is still intriguing, still potentially mind-blowing. Cynicism has yet to emerge, and (hopefully) it will be another three years or so before social media takes over their lives. I'd like to think that this one brief visit to Limehouse Basin might actually help deliver an environmental scientist or two about twelve years from now.

Maybe it will be the little girl who asked me right at the very end of the visit, 'Why do boats float?' There wasn't time to go into weight and displacement unfortunately, but I hope there was enough in my brief answer that she'd follow up that excellent question back in the classroom.

Anyway, as a field trip it was great; if kids like these can, over the next critical five to ten years, retain their curiosity, their sense of wonder, and maybe continue to noisily communicate with each other face to face instead of cryptically by texts and messaging, the next generation will be something to really celebrate.