Who is the Tree Called SÍLE?
Story authored by: SÍLE and the Children of Storyoga, made possible by the curiosity and support of Storyoga’s Educators, and compiled by ECPN pedagogist Karen Rodden Following over a year of documentation and pedagogical processes beginning in early 2023, this work takes seriously the ideas and thinking of young children and is reflective of educators’ pedagogical commitments. Special thank you to Kaeda Parker for bringing our artistic imaginings to life. Editing and Publishing thanks to the Early Childhood Pedagogy Network (ECPN) and the B.C. Early Childhood Pedagogist Program, which is funded by the B.C. Ministry of Education and Child Care and hosted by the ECPN. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilized in any form without permission from the ECPN. Published 2025.
The children of Storyoga would like to dedicate this story with the words: “I love you, SÍLE!”
This story takes place on the traditional and ancestral homelands of the W̱ SÁNEĆ, whose relationships with the lands, waters, and more-thanhuman beings is deeply intertwined with their idenity and culture. The story and naming of SÍLE would not have been possible without attuning to the land and people of this place. The pedagogical process that led to the creation of this book was nurtured by Storyoga and the Early Childhood Pedagogy Network’s hope for more just and livable futures for all, as well as taking up the responsibilty of the TRC calls to Actions and current conditions of our time. SÍLE (See-lah) is a SENĆOŦEN word, the language of the W̱ SÁNEĆ. It means grandparent.
Like many trees I began as a seed. In a pinecone I fell from my mother tree, a beautiful, towering JSȺ,IȽĆ (Ch-say-ulch), or Douglas fir tree.
When the seasons turned warm the scales of the pinecone popped open and out I fell onto the forest floor.
I grew in this forest for more than onehundred years. As my needle-covered branches reached for the sky my roots spread under the surface of the earth, keeping me steady and strong and connecting me to a network of tree, mushroom, and plant beings. I grew.
New human beings brought change. The forest gave way to farmland, houses, and roads. Nearby a house was built that became a place for children to come during the day. This place was called Playhouse.
Children often visited me now. Their gentle hands brushed against my rough, ridged bark. Each day they played and laughed and cried under my heavy boughs. Playhouse even built a gazebo around me so we could be closer.
Years passed and one winter, when I was almost two hundred years old, a different childcare called Storyoga moved in. I watched and listened as this new community settled in. I was glad to have children running between my boughs and roots again.
One day Storyoga took down the fence that was wrapped around my trunk. The human beings noticed and wondered about me.
Children and educators thought it might be nice to give me a name, but they had questions: Did I already have a name? How can you learn a tree’s name? Did they have the right to name me?
While humans big and small thought of many names they might like to give me, they also thought of ways to care for me. From the windows of the classroom children watched as people trained to care for trees, called arborists, came.
With their special machines for cutting and lifting, they trimmed my branches and removed dead wood. I felt lighter than I had in years, and the children were excited to watch me get what they called a “haircut.”
The children drew pictures with me, read books about my kin, and shared ideas and stories with me.
Finally, Storyoga decided they would gift me a name. “You will be called SÍLE,” they said, “SÍLE means grandparent in SENĆOŦEN.”
I know SENĆOŦEN, for it is the language of my cousins the W̱ SÁNEĆ who called my mother tree a JSȺ,IȽĆ and who have lived in these forests for many generations of human and tree.
“We need a party!” the children said.
They wanted to celebrate gifting me this name. They decorated the yard with portraits of me and invited their families to share blueberry muffins and pine-needle tea as they sat on blankets in my shadow.
The heat of summer meant changes were coming. Some of the children would leave and new ones would come. The human beings asked each other, “what do new people need to know about SÍLE?” and the children answered:
SÍLE is brown and a great place for a nest. Birds and spiders make nests in her branches.
SÍLE talks to everyone with her branches shaking in the wind. You have to sit still and quiet and listen for her answer.
SÍLE talks to other trees through her roots. She can reach all the way to my house.
SÍLE is tall. She blocks out the sun and makes shade on hot summer days.
SÍLE is our friend!
I hear the children speak of their love for me, I feel their arms as they wrap around my bark and hug me, I see their joy as they collect the pinecones and branches I drop.
I am welcomed into Storyoga’s community, and it makes me wonder: Do you have tree friends?
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