Subjective Treasures

“There is no higher honor than being the adult that a child chooses to share their wild treasures & discoveries with.” – Nicolette Sowder

Children have a beautiful way of seeing the world, one that is filled with curiosity, wonder, and meaning in the smallest of things. A shiny rock, a curled leaf, a piece of string, they all hold stories and possibilities in the eyes of a child. As adults, we are often tempted to dismiss these finds as “junk.” But here’s the truth, it’s never about the object itself. It’s about the meaning behind it, the spark it ignites, and the joy of discovery.

Reagan understood this better than anyone. She was a collector at heart. Whether we were out on the playground, running across the soccer field, or hiking deep into the woods, she always had her eyes open for something special. It could be a tiny feather caught in the grass or a smooth pebble that fits perfectly in her palm. To Reagan, these were treasures, subjective treasures, yes, but treasures, nonetheless.

As her teacher, I made it my mission to honor each and every find. When we returned to the classroom after outdoor play, Reagan would carefully place her newest treasures on her cubby. She would arrange them just so, like a museum display, and then wait in eager anticipation to share them with her mom, dad, and grandma at pick-up time.

Her dad would often smile and ask quietly, “Why do you keep sending these things home?” I’d laugh and tell him the same thing every time, “Because they matter to Reagan. They’re not just objects, they’re her treasures.” And I meant it. To Reagan, every tiny find was a story, a memory, a piece of the world that spoke to her in some way.

What I didn’t realize at the time was that Reagan’s mom was quietly saving every single item that came home. All year long, she gathered feathers, pebbles, strings, and old broken bits, carefully tucking them away. And then, on the last day of school, she surprised us with the most beautiful gift I have ever received as a teacher, a dreamcatcher, handwoven with Reagan’s treasures.

There it was a year’s worth of wonder transformed into art. Every feather, bead, and twig held a memory. It wasn’t just a dreamcatcher; it was a story of curiosity, a testament to a child’s way of finding magic in the ordinary. And it was a reminder to me of something so important, these small things matter. They always matter.

When a child shares their discoveries with us, it’s not about the object, they’re sharing a piece of themselves. Their wonder. Their joy. Their way of seeing the world. And that, as Nicolette Sowder so beautifully said, is the highest honor we can receive.

So, here’s my challenge to you, the next time a child runs up to you with a dandelion, a rock, or a wrinkled leaf clutched in their little hand, pause. Look closely. Smile. Say, “Wow, what a treasure.” Hold space for their wonder. Because in their eyes, it truly is. And when you honor that, you’re not just keeping their magic alive, you’re showing them that their voice, their vision, and their discoveries matter.