“Gather the firewood” – this simple phrase often found its way into conversations with my children whenever they faced anxiety about new social situations. The metaphor stems from my own experiences at summer camp in the Maine woods, where daily life taught me an enduring lesson about the value of humble work.
During our camping trips, when we’d arrive at a new site, everyone would be assigned various tasks. While some eagerly volunteered for the seemingly important jobs like setting up tents or cooking meals, others were assigned the solitary task of gathering firewood. Most preferred the group activities, viewing the solo wood-gathering duty as less desirable. Yet each evening, as our leaders reflected on the day’s accomplishments, they never failed to acknowledge the firewood gatherers. They understood that this seemingly modest task was fundamental to the group’s comfort and survival – providing the means for cooking and warmth throughout the night. These wood gatherers, through their unassuming work, quite literally fueled both the fire and the group’s success.
Though no one particularly enjoyed gathering wood at the time, the years have given me a deep appreciation for life’s metaphorical wood gatherers. I’ve encouraged my own children to follow their example: when entering new situations, be willing to take on those small, sustaining tasks that others might overlook. While these contributions might seem insignificant or even beneath notice, they foster humility and earn genuine respect – the bedrock of meaningful relationships and experiences.
In our school communities, I often contemplate where we can create these “wood gathering” opportunities and whether we properly acknowledge them. In sports, we celebrate the “grinders” – those athletes who may not dominate the statistics but whose consistent effort and attention to small details make successful plays possible. Good coaches recognize and highlight these vital team members.
But what does “gathering wood” look like in our classrooms? Perhaps it’s the student who volunteers for the less glamorous portion of a group presentation, or the one brave enough to ask that basic question everyone else is thinking during a sophisticated discussion. Maybe it’s as simple as sharing supplies with an unprepared classmate. These small acts fuel successful learning environments, and we must ask ourselves: do we sufficiently recognize and celebrate these quiet contributions that make our community thrive?
