by Colby Mitchell.
On a dreary
September morning a team of 6th grade students from Seattle's Westside School
upend cobble in Deer Creek while searching for macro-invertebrates - living
clues in the mystery of this habitat's health and the quality of the water
cascading downstream. Their giddy grins and eager body language belie the soggy
impediments to learning that characterize Pacific Northwest weather this time
of year.
Weeks later, on a
crisp October afternoon, seven 5th grade students from Bellingham's Happy
Valley Elementary grapple with the concept of a watershed while scanning the
snow encrusted peaks which ensnare Diablo Lake. Narrating the life of a
raindrop, they trace its course from cloud to ground to river and eventually the
sea. Participants delight in the chance to imagine water flowing through their
world and passing places they may never go.
As an educator and
lifelong science enthusiast I am quick to assign my own value to these
experiences and the concepts they explicate. For one, these are classroom
lessons come to life. I can recall cartoonish diagrams illustrating watersheds
projected from transparencies onto my 5th grade classroom wall, but these
children skip rocks on the water of Diablo Lake and then, when they leave, gaze
out the window of their bus at the same water as it runs the Skagit River
toward Puget Sound. Similarly, the 6th grade students from Westside School will
spend an afternoon chasing dragonfly nymphs around with a microscope lens while
my memories of macro-invertebrates, like the memories of many youth, are seen
through the warped glass of a specimen jar.
Apart from the
transformative nature of these place-based experiences, there is a deeper value
in the concepts that we, as instructors, strive to impart to participants.
Ideas like watersheds and ecological connectivity are stepping-stones to the
broader skill-set of systems thinking. Understanding a place and its connection
to other places is a mental exercise whose resultant fitness is transferable to
an ever broadening set of challenges looming large on our shared horizon.
On the last day of
each Mountain School session participants engage with the big ideas of Community. By this point the concept is far from
foreign, as each individual has already explored the complexity of Northwest
foodwebs and other interdependent systems. What separates this culminating
foray into Community from
previous learning is the place of the Individual within the system. The question of where and
how you connect to the
larger world is one each of us wrestle with in our lives and, in many ways, how
we answer shapes the way we create identity for self and community.
There are many
laudable audience transformations we strive to make during a single Mountain
School session. Participants leave with a deeper knowledge of the ecosystem,
more comfort in spending time outdoors, and stronger science literacy, but I
personally ascribe the deepest value to an individual leaving with a newfound
ability to see the connections between things which, until then, seemed so far
apart. This is the seed from which deep understanding and lifelong stewardship
will grow.
This article is
cross-posted to the Chattermarks Blog.
Leading photo by Jessica Newley.
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