Shaking the Dust Off, while the wind blows around.

This past week I had the immense privilege of taking an inspiring group of 6^th graders to a place I had never been to before. Listed somewhere in the perks of the unbelievable sights, the student’s questions that made me ponder as much as them, and the experiential … experience, is the fact that I got paid to do this.

(Photo by Conservation Lands Foundation)

Yep, it’s my job to drive young'uns around this incredible state, feed them wild things, encourage them to crawl through rocks,  and challenge themselves to do things they never even thought about doing. Some people surely believe that I spend my days singing cum-by-ah and kicking soccer balls at kids to whom I’m just another adult at their disposal- but I’m happy to say I have never been in a position like that. Working at  current position has enabled me to provide the most insightful, intentional and hands-on education I have ever been able to offer. Sure I have to scorn a few trouble-makers, clean up some toilets and vacuum vans…but the real “dirty” work is the most fun: digging through shallow riverbeds to find what’s lurking beneath rocks, churning adobe bricks with your own hands or feet, or using a “bludgeoning tool” to break off all the lower Ponderosa pine branches as part of sustainable fire ecology.
This past week was particularly enjoyable because it marked my first trip with a school group with this company, my first time to Tent Rocks, and my first time with this particular group of students, who will be joining us for a longer trip later in the spring. At this point I have led groups of students to explore the outdoors in New York, North Carolina, Texas and California, but none of the programs I’ve worked with have emphasized the exploration of Nature quite like this one. Of course we stress safety, and always keep a watchful eye, but when a student can pick up a lizard and give it a name, or scrape a sandstone cliff to feel it erode, you can actually see the moment of understanding and appreciation in their eyes.
What really stood out to me about this visit to Tent Rocks was how much I was able to learn. Another thing that is invaluable about this line of work is that I can constantly grow and learn- as a student and as a teacher. As we ventured into the narrowing canyon, the students’ enthusiasm grew, despite ticking past their usual lunch time. They started to make their own theories about why Ponderosa pines were increasing in density along our walk, and asked each other really good questions about how the sediment layered like it did. Although this may have been a particularly bright group of 6^th graders, it was clear that their sense of curiosity was driving them to round each corner, and that a sense of exploration was pushing them to climb toward the top. A rewarding view only further encouraged the fulfillment of time spent in nature, whether learning or just appreciating.
Although this was my first week working with students since December, and this was my first school group in New Mexico, I remembered how natural, and exciting it is to work with young minds, and agile bodies. The  trip to Tent Rocks last week was a nice reminder of how to flow into the logistics of leading a group of students through permit-required places, but more excitingly, it released the momentum of the possibilities for us teaching students this spring. Right now I am in the planning stage of several other trips, all overnight, from 2^nd grade to 7^th grade. I am so excited to design some unique experiences for the youth in this state, and even more excited to get out there in the dust with them, and learn some things.

Cross Country …6

Chicago

It was a beautiful time to be in Chicago. A time when it’s easy to romanticize the large fountain, the sunflowers, the beach of Lake Michigan (who has ever seen a lake that size?!). The friend Amil stayed with gently reminded us that summer is the good season, that winters are bitter cold and colors fade for most of the year, leaving nothing but a concrete and steel city. Albeit, a well artichetected one. 
Before I arrived in the city, Amil had a few days to get to know it. He ran into the Windy City Wizard, an inspiring and amazing illusionist. After a jaw-dropping performance, Amil heard the magician telling someone how he grew so successful. After seeing a local magician, he begged to learn some tricks, but the Magician told him that he would  have to prove his commitment if he was to learn. He came back with a little magic trick he had bought. “Do you know how to do it?” the professional asked. Little wizard confessed he hadn’t learned. “Then come back when we you can show me that you really want to be a magician. So he learned the trick, practiced it a few times and came back. “What other tricks do you know,? the magician asked after seeing the trick. Little wizard again confessed that that was all. Doubting his commitment yet again, the magician sent him off. Finally, little wizard bought a magic book. A great magic book. (Probably Mark Wilson’s complete course in Magic ;) ) He learned every trick in it, studying them and practicing his favorites of them over and over. When he returned to the magician, he was finally convinced, and so he taught him what he knew.  If you really want something you’ve got to put your heart into it.

Although I didn’t’ get to visit our friend’s house, hearing about it from Amil has made an impact on my decorating decisions. His space was very minimalist in its decoration, but in its simplicity, the little bit that was there stood out because it wasn’t crowded. And because of that, the house was able to speak a lot clearer…if it was louder it would have been more like noise rather than music.

During his adventure in Chicago, Amil was invited to a new-music concertn. Quince? And something color ensemble were performing. The music was dissonant, chaotic, almost tickling. Alternating between laughing and cringing, he sat through it, appreciating it for what it was and what it could be, though he never reached the point of understanding. Understanding something can be an important part of enjoying it, but if you don’t understand it you can still appreciate it.

I was happy to spend just a few hours in Chicago, a city I’ve long dreamed of visiting, or even living in. Shortly after meeting up with Amil, a simple event that proved confusing among the subways and the Chicago city streets, a kind-looking young man inquired (based on the amount of crap we were carrying around- a backpacking bag each, plus Amil’s  pull-cart and my day pack) if we were backpacking, and offered us some bananas. Though delighted by the gesture, we declined, having enough food to carry without worrying about something to get squished. We dragged our stuff to the ‘beach’, pausing to watch the fountain’s choreography to the climax of the 1812 overture, and enjoyed some simple, nutritional raw fruits and nuts, while anticipating the expedition ahead.

Cross Country Culture…3

Marble Falls“Culture shock” is all I can say about my week of work in Marble Falls. If it weren’t for the few familiar friends, the landscape I so love, and the hot humid August weather I had (thought I) much missed, I don’t think I would have made it through the week. 
After a few handshakes and smiles exchanged with brand new faces of all ages and shapes, I found myself sitting in the living room of the Director/Owner’s house as he explained what the week was to entail. The gist of the meeting was that no one knew what was to entail…this was going to be a brand new experiment allowing underprivileged kids to come ‘be at camp’ for a week, and strengthen from the character building that happens upon trying new things. This group would then be tracked and tested periodically and contrasted with their peers to see if this made a significant impact.

As my mind tried to process this information, I glanced around them room, trying to recognize the cultural clues that would be my home for the next week. Bare feet and flip flops replaced the “closed-toe-shoe” rule I had upheld all summer. Tank tops and running shorts of violently loud  colors seemed to be the dress code. In place of the dirty, hippie friends I had so shortly left behind in New Mexico were dozens of beautiful, manicured people- with unrealistic tans. 

I spent the entire week being lost, unfamiliar, uncomfortable, and not ready for the silly dancing, continuous singing, and blatantly “fun” but altogether meaningless activities that were required at camp. I tried hard to be a bridge between the ‘summer camp staples’ that this camp required and the slow, intentional and character-focused work that I had been doing all summer, but along with the heat, this took all the energy I had.

It had only been a year or two since I was in Texas in August. Walking through snow in New York, or digging through it in California, I had often reminisced the humid summers. But tossing and turning in a puddle on my bunk in my open air cabin, hoping for the slightest breeze (cause that’s all that comes) to blow in off the lake beside me, was a sweaty reminder of why I worked at an indoor day-camp in the summers growing up. Even at night, watching the waxing moon rise and set over its reflection in the still lake, I sweat. I realized that Amil may be right, I have adapted to the brisk wintery evenings that come with living in mountains.

Despite my personal culture shock, trying so hard to be present and enjoy the experience, but wanting so bad to leave, to be away from Miley Cirus songs, i-pods and processed food that you had 10 minutes to scarf down, the week was a success. Although a few of the girls, coming from less wealthy backgrounds than the rest of the campers, felt as out of place as I did, many of them were tearful upon their departure, wishing they could have the same experience next year, and hoping to keep in touch with all their friends.