Our experience in a Danish forest kindergarten was unlike anything we had encountered during our toddler’s 1.5 years at a private childcare center in Singapore. We had heard about the concept, read articles, but honestly, it was hard to believe. No formal lessons? Unstructured play throughout the day? Wouldn’t the kids feel lost? Wouldn’t they get bored? And if the play was meant to be “educational,” wouldn’t it waste valuable playtime? The transition initiated our first culture shock as we swapped formal learning and structured activities for an unexpected adventure among trees, twigs in pockets, mud on pants, and sand in hair.
Are You OK with That?
It was a blustery end-of-summer day in 2013 when we headed to the Pladsanvisningen—a government agency that oversees enrollment for Copenhagen’s public kindergartens. Preschool placements are determined by waiting list seniority, with sibling priority often complicating the process. Parents can choose up to three public kindergartens nearby, and we had shortlisted some lovely options with ample playground space, which were naturally popular and had long waitlists. However, an immediate opening popped up at a kindergarten called Mini-Castle. We exchanged excited glances.
“Are you OK with that?” the agency representative asked. What exactly was there to be “OK” with? was the burning question in our minds, but we nodded and smiled, clueless. Once outside, I glanced at the address on our registration form and googled it. What?! Mini-Castle was 50 minutes away from central Copenhagen! Did she misunderstand? Did we make an error with our address?
When we regrouped at home, we translated the entire registration form and discovered more peculiar details: there was a “collection point” 20 minutes from our house, and a number to call. We were instructed to arrive at the collection point the following morning before 8:30 am. My heart sank as we entered the room, which was unremarkable but spacious. A few children played with construction toys; others were busy drawing. The usual morning chaos: some kids running around, others just lingering, while parents reminded them to use the bathroom.
A pedagogue named Jamie approached us. In Denmark, “pedagogues” are the key staff in nurseries and childcare settings. After introductions, Jamie informed us, “The bus picks us up at 8:40 and returns around 4 in the afternoon. We close at 5, so we ask parents to come as early as they can.” She flashed a bright smile. Soon after, the children were asked to line up.
I held my daughter’s hand tightly, unsure who was more anxious. As we exited the room, a bus awaited, and a stream of 3- to 5-year-olds began putting their bags in the luggage compartment before climbing aboard. Head pedagogue Sam greeted each child and checked names off her list, while a young assistant ensured seatbelts were fastened.
“Welcome to Mini-Castle! You and your daughter can sit at the back today, but she will be assigned a fixed seat later. All children have their own seats to avoid chaos!” Sam chuckled, shaking my daughter’s hand. As I settled at the back of the bus, I watched parents outside waving goodbye and blowing kisses. They continued waving as the bus pulled away, and I knew I would soon join this daily ritual, which became a core part of my morning routine.
Once the bus was cruising, Sam greeted the children over the PA system and introduced the day’s activities. After her announcement, she played sing-along music and stories. An hour later, the bus turned into a clearing and stopped. Excitement filled the air, and the children, who had quieted down, sprang into action. They jumped off the bus and dashed through a set of gates. Could it be possible that Sara would be attending a kindergarten an hour away and back every day? Why would any parent choose this? Back in Singapore, our childcare center was only 10 minutes from home!
Welcome to Mini-Castle
Forest preschools in Copenhagen fall under three categories: udflytterbørnehave, skovbus, and rumlepotte. The differences pertain to the frequency and nature of excursions into the woods. Mini-Castle is an udflytterbørnehave—an “outlying kindergarten in an environment with plenty of fresh air.” It resembled a charmingly converted farmhouse, surrounded by forest and near the coast. As I entered the back garden, I discovered the real treasure: it was a mini-forest!
There was a small area where the 24 children stored their bags. Some changed into boots before rushing outside. I almost yelled, “Be careful! Don’t run!” but quickly realized that there had been minimal adult intervention since we arrived. Mini-Castle came alive as children ran, played, and laughed. Soon after, they jumped on logs, climbed trees, swung down branches, dug in the soil, and rustled through bushes. I was in awe.
No Formal Teaching
At Mini-Castle, children were free to play as they wished, whenever they wanted, and however they liked. Inside the farmhouse, there was a small room for napping, but Sam mentioned, “No, they don’t take naps because it’s too precious to waste time indoors. But they can rest if they choose.” Throughout the day, pedagogues and assistants organized a few activities at wooden tables: storytelling, drawing, and arts and crafts materials were available for any child interested. No activity was mandatory.
“There are only two times children need to pay attention: when it’s time to eat and when it’s time to get back on the bus. We don’t want to leave anyone behind at Mini-Castle, so we count them before we leave,” she laughed. Lunch was a cold affair—literally. A healthy spread of sugar-free organic brown rye bread with cheese, capsicums, cucumbers, tomatoes, and liver paste. I stuck to nibbling on my organic crispbread. After lunch, it was time for music and dance—no waiting half an hour after eating. Instead of traditional songs, the kids danced to “Livin’ La Vida Loca” and “Murder on the Dance Floor.”
Many kindergartens today promote play, but Danish kindergartens elevate it by emphasizing free play. The adults at Mini-Castle were present and observant but stepped back to allow children to plan their day, engaging in whatever captured their interest. If children felt bored, Sam explained, they were encouraged to embrace that feeling, as boredom often led to new discoveries and activities. To those accustomed to a more traditional approach (myself included), this hardly resembled a structured educational program. I asked Sam about the curriculum, expecting a timetable: “Counting from 10-10:30, Danish from 10:30-11, and so on.”
“Oh, no, no, don’t worry,” Sam assured me. “There’s no teaching in Danish kindergartens. We prioritize allowing children to play as much as possible.”
Outdoor Risky Play
A defining feature of Danish forest kindergartens is that children spend the entire day outdoors—regardless of the weather. This is where the Danish mantra Der findes intet der hedder dårligt vejr, kun dårligt påklædning (“There’s no such thing as bad weather, only bad clothing”) comes into play. This concept was foreign to me. In Singapore, even a light drizzle prompted a “Let’s go inside!” reaction. After a few weeks at Mini-Castle, I asked Sara, “Was it heavily raining today? Did you stay outside?”
“Yessss! It was sooo fun!! We splashed in muddy puddles!!!” While it wasn’t “sooo fun” washing her clothes that weekend, I soon learned to accept that she would return from school with boots full of sand, pockets full of leaves, and her bag filled with stones and dirt—an ongoing struggle.
Research shows that outdoor play enhances concentration, creativity, and mobility in children. It also fosters social skills, as outdoor activities encourage interaction unlike solitary tasks like coloring. Simply put, outdoor play makes children happier. Outdoor play also facilitates natural risky play, allowing children to explore their environment. As I witnessed the kids at Mini-Castle freely exploring and discovering, it became clear why parents embraced the daily two-hour bus commute: it nurtured their children’s thirst for adventure, freedom, and independence.
Due to the encouragement of risky play, minor injuries became commonplace. Sara frequently came home with small scratches and bruises. Sam reassured me there was a clear distinction between minor and serious injuries: bruises were a normal part of outdoor play, while a broken arm was taken seriously. The pedagogues refrained from saying, “No, don’t do that.” They didn’t overcorrect or intervene when a child faced a challenge, nor did they block off potentially dangerous areas. The overarching philosophy in Danish childcare is one of freedom and independence. They guided children in recognizing risks and dangers while teaching them to assess their surroundings and navigate situations safely.
Whether balancing on slippery rocks, jumping over fallen trees, or helping to start a bonfire, risky play allowed children to gauge their limits and challenge themselves appropriately, trusting their instincts.
Finding Balance
Despite safety concerns, Danish forest kindergartens face criticism regarding their academic rigor. Shouldn’t preschools prepare children for formal education? My mother often asked, “If Sara plays outside all day, how will she learn?” To learn more about safe practices and home insemination, check out this excellent resource from the CDC. If you’re looking for a reliable home insemination kit, visit CryoBaby for their comprehensive options. And for fun and engaging outdoor activities, consider reading about Drag Queen Storytime, an enriching experience for children.
Summary
My daughter’s experience in a Danish forest kindergarten was a journey of discovery and adventure, emphasizing the importance of free play and outdoor exploration. The focus on independence and risk-taking fostered her creativity, social skills, and resilience, all while challenging the traditional notions of education.