Trees in Our City: How a Tree and a Small Patch of Dirt Inspired a Classroom

by Zuleika Fertullien-Hines

Personal Reflection

I can vividly recall my early years as a missionary’s daughter seeing my father plant trees whenever we arrived at a new community and settled into our home. It was always a familiar scene: My mother would go on to create a garden with her common staples of tomatoes, cilantro, beans, and okra while my father would hoe the land for the tuberous plants and trees that would be sown. In my later years, we would visit the homes that we had lived in and look for the trees that we had planted. I remember my excitement seeing how much the trees had grown, which I measured by whether I could wrap my arms around the trunk or reach the branches with my fingertips as I once did as a child. Trees played a leading role in my imaginary games as a child; their long branches became canopies for my playhouse, their strong limbs beckoned me to climb them as overlook posts for any approaching adults, and, at times, the trunks served as a backrest where I could sit for hours engrossed in a book. Other times, the trees provided a delicious assortment of snacks; fruits, such as mangoes, oranges, and guavas, were abundant during my early years living on the Caribbean islands. Once we moved to the United States, pears, apples, peaches, and other tree fruits became my snacks of choice. I cannot recall a time when trees did not play a part in my games when I was a child. So, years later, when I began the journey of building a school, I could not imagine a school without trees.

Building a School in the Landscape of an Urban Setting

In 2002, I had the opportunity to design and build my own preschool, Beyond Basic Learning, in Hoboken, New Jersey. The location faced the Hudson River and New York City with an unobstructed view of the Empire State Building. In my school design, I wanted to create classrooms where children could draw learning opportunities from their surroundings and connect to the trees and plants around them. I had found the perfect location; it was at the base of a residential building and encompassed half of the block. The length of the building provided many windows whose spans were four feet wide and 12 to 18 feet high. The space was a blank canvas, as the school would become the first resident to occupy the commercial space. This provided me with a unique opportunity to design the space where the windows would become the portal through which children could readily observe the changes that nature brought to all things growing and living on the trees and surrounding plants. The built location was 3,742 square feet and accommodated four classrooms, a common area, an office, and the front desk. It was a private school that would serve the families of Hoboken for children from two months to five years of age.

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