Now that we have spent some time unpicking what outdoor learning is not, it is worth turning our attention to a quieter, more persistent issue: the way we imagine where outdoor learning is supposed to happen.
There is an unspoken hierarchy that often sits beneath conversations about outdoor learning. It is rarely stated outright, but it shapes confidence all the same. At the top of that hierarchy sits woodland. Somewhere further down might be parks or beaches. And near the bottom, often overlooked or apologised for, are playgrounds, hard surfaces, and urban spaces.
Many schools don’t consciously believe this hierarchy exists, and yet it shows up in the language we use.
“We’d love to do outdoor learning properly, but…”
“We only have a playground.”
“We don’t really have proper outdoor space.”
What these statements often reflect is not a lack of ambition, but a sense that some spaces count more than others.
This is where outdoor learning quietly becomes harder than it needs to be.
When place becomes the focus, practice gets lost
When outdoor learning is defined primarily by where it happens, schools can begin to feel that they must earn their way into it. That they need the right environment, the right conditions, or the right resources before they can begin.
The result is often hesitation rather than action.
Outdoor learning becomes something that happens occasionally, when everything lines up, rather than something embedded into everyday practice. It becomes fragile, easily cancelled, easily postponed, easily dropped when pressures increase.
And this is not because schools don’t value outdoor learning. It is because the way we frame it has unintentionally raised the threshold for participation.
Outdoors as a way of learning, not a destination
Outdoor learning is not defined by trees, grass, or distance from buildings. It is defined by how learning is supported to happen in the real world.
At its heart, outdoor learning is about:
- using place as a teaching tool
- noticing patterns, change, and relationships
- learning that is situated rather than abstract
- connecting experience to understanding
Those things can happen in a forest. But they are not exclusive to forests.
A woodland offers immersion and imaginative freedom, but it can also overwhelm some learners or present access challenges.
Urban spaces make systems, infrastructure, and community visible, but require more adult scaffolding.
Playgrounds offer familiarity and routine, but carry social dynamics that need careful thought.
There is no perfect outdoor space. Every environment offers something, and takes something away.
Once we accept that, the question shifts.
Instead of asking, “Do we have the right kind of outdoors?”
We begin to ask, “What kind of learning does this space make possible?”
That is a far more useful starting point.
Letting go of the ladder
One of the most limiting ideas in outdoor learning is the sense that schools progress along a ladder: from playgrounds, to parks, to woodland, as if moving steadily towards something more legitimate.
This framing is unhelpful for two reasons.
First, it devalues the spaces children use most often, and where consistency and routine are easiest to establish. Second, it suggests that outdoor learning is about reaching a particular destination, rather than developing thoughtful practice over time.
Outdoor learning does not improve because the setting looks wilder. It improves when it is intentional, inclusive, and well matched to the learners and the moment.
A carefully planned session in a concrete playground can be more powerful than a poorly supported visit to a woodland. The difference lies not in the landscape, but in the decisions adults make about how learning is supported.
A shift in thinking
This series does not set out to rank spaces or suggest that all environments are interchangeable. They are not. Context matters.
What it does aim to do is remove the idea that some spaces are a prerequisite for doing outdoor learning “properly”.
Over the coming months, we will explore a wide range of outdoor contexts, from playgrounds and streets to woodlands, beaches, cemeteries, community gardens, and the small, often overlooked spaces in between.
Each one will be considered honestly: what it offers, what it complicates, and what kinds of learning it supports best.
Because if outdoor learning is to be equitable, sustainable, and embedded, it has to begin with the spaces schools already inhabit – not the ones they are told to aspire to.
