Deciduous tree in a forest

A Seminar Called “Tree”

When I applied to college, Harvard University never made my list. Today, it would sit at the very top—not for prestige, but for a freshman seminar called “Tree.”

This one-credit course, created by Arnold Arboretum director Ned Friedman, invites students to do something radical: form a relationship with a tree. First offered in 2020, the class pairs each student with one living organism from the Arboretum’s 16,000-tree collection. The goal is simple but profound—build a lifelong connection with the natural world while stepping away from the noise of the digital one.

Bare tree with sprawling branches in a field of brown grass
I’m programmed to notice trees. This one caught my attention during a walk at a preserve near my home.

On the first day, students walk a mile through the Arnold Arboretum as Friedman explains the semester ahead. Each student chooses a single tree to observe, study, and return to again and again. Over time, that tree becomes more than an object of study—it becomes a partner.

The course blends science, poetry, and storytelling to deepen that connection. But its real focus runs deeper. Friedman challenges students to ask bigger questions: What does it mean to live a good life? A meaningful life? A connected life?

In an interview with Margaret Roach, Ned described his hope to share what he feels when standing beside a witch-hazel glowing gold against fresh snow. He wants students to feel awe. To slow down. To notice. To carry that awareness forward—not just for a semester, but for life.

Draco tree with palm tree next to it
I have experienced the awe that Ned wants his students to feel. How can you not be inspired when standing beside a thousand-year-old tree like this Dragon Tree (Dracaena draco) in the Canary Islands?

Students choose their trees in deeply personal ways. Some look to heritage—a Korean or Chinese student might choose a tree native to home. Others respond to shape, size, or presence. One Native American student chose a maple, honoring its cultural significance and traditions.

roots from rubber tree expanding on ground with tree canopy above
The sprawling roots of this magnificent Ficus macrophylla in Buenos Aires create a striking feature—one that could easily captivate students if a similar tree were part of the arboretum.

A short story in the course called “A Tree, A Rock, A Cloud,” teaches a quiet but powerful lesson: practice love by turning first to the natural world. Love something that cannot love you back. In doing so, you learn to give without expectation—a skill that feels increasingly rare in a world quick to judge, reject, or divide.

looking into tree canopy and seeing unique pattern against sky
Observing the canopy is one way to pay attention and notice a tree’s presence.
Yellow blooming witch hazel with sprawling habit
In my own garden, the first tree I would partner with is my witch-hazel. Though it was incorrectly identified as a different cultivar and damaged when a tree climber dropped a chainsaw into it, the tree remains steady and resilient. It never disappoints, offering a beautifully sculpted branching structure and a reliable, fragrant bloom.
woman hugging tree
Hug a tree. Show it some love even if it can’t promise to love you back.

Step outside. Walk into your backyard, a park, or a local arboretum. Find a tree. Return to it. Pay attention. Connection starts small. But if we practice it—patiently, intentionally—we might just grow into people who make the world a little more hopeful, and a lot more kind.