by Bob Flasher
Isn’t experiencing life through personal discovery, cooperative challenges, and self-directed learning more enjoyable and exciting than listening to a recitation of facts, no matter how interesting those facts are? Since the unfortunate advent of No Child Left Unscathed—or is that No Child Left Behind?—many nature and history interpretive programs have begun to teach to state standards.
Experiencing the lake instead of drowning in factoids.
This switch to teaching standardized facts instead of interpreting, discovering, and encouraging children to experience life firsthand often helps teachers justify the class field trip. In this manner, the current neurotic concern for teaching to standards is not only negatively impacting schools, but our interpretive efforts as well.
Freeman Tilden, the father of interpretation, defines this art as “an educational activity which aims to reveal meanings and relationships through the use of original objects, by firsthand experience, and by illustrative media, rather than simply by communicating factual information.” Three of his six principles of effective interpretation remind us that:
- information alone is not interpretation; interpretation is revelation based upon information.
- the chief aim of interpretation is not instruction, but provocation.
- interpretation addressed to children should not be a dilution of the presentation to adults, but should follow a fundamentally different approach.
We need to ask ourselves whether we are simply intending to impart information and dry facts or whether we seek to create ecological and historic awareness and appreciation, transform lives, and possibly even save the Earth.
Tilden reminds us that “perhaps it is truer to say that interpretation is a program of re-education. We have let ourselves forget our need for direct experience and appreciation of beauty. It is the duty of the interpreter to jog our memories.” To have real historic sites and natural areas at our disposal and not use them to provide firsthand experience and opportunities for discovery is a tragic waste.
Resisting Imparting Factoids
We must resist the focus on memorizing factoids and take the braver course of action. We can be inspired by others who have pointed the way toward more holistic and powerful ways of learning. Tatanga Mani, a Native American of the Stony Tribe, spoke to Americans in the 19th century:
I learned to read from school books, newspapers, and the Bible. But in time I found these were not enough. Civilized people depend too much on…printed pages. You know, if you take all your books, lay them out under the sun, and let the snow and rain and insects work on them for a while, there will be nothing left. But the Great Spirit has provided you and me with an opportunity for study in nature’s university—the forests, the rivers, the mountains, and the animals which include us.
Steven Van Matre describes the problem similarly in his landmark book Acclimatization:
It appeared logical to teach nature study by asking the student to commit to memory the name of everything within reach. Thirty leaves, 30 insects, and 30 wildflowers became the hallmarks of the outdoor educated child. To say this bordered on idiocy would be kind. What do we care if a student fails to remember the name of a wildflower? Does he remember its fragrance, the texture of its leaves—does he know where to find it and what lives in its community? And does he know not because someone told him he should know, but because for him it is a thing of enjoyment and beauty?”
Van Matre then gives us a prescription for the cure:
There is an alternative to these time-honored methods which have fallen just short of being disastrous. We can help students acclimate themselves to the environment, to understand it on its own terms and merits. Let’s subject each student to the most sensory experiences imaginable, with all of our senses in total operation.”
Rachel Carson points out in The Sense of Wonder that “children need a sense of wonder so indestructible that it would last throughout life, as an unfailing antidote against the boredom and disenchantments of later years.” And what better place to promote a sense of wonder than in the constantly changing, evolving, and stimulating outdoors? All we need to do is to make sure that we don’t put too many words between students and firsthand experience.
Creative fun outdoors—the antidote to nature-deficit disorder.
As Rick Van Noy reminds us in A Natural Sense of Wonder, “Outside lie stories to unfold, miracles to witness, hardships to overcome, fears to stare down, people and animals to meet—life in its full range of experience.” I believe that we need to keep asking ourselves whether listening to our words is as valuable as providing a direct experience. If we are being honest, I think our answer is “No.”
Techniques or True Experience?
What techniques would be more effective than simply imparting information verbally? This question presupposes that a technique is the solution. But what if Parker Palmer is correct in The Courage to Teach?
In the training of therapists, there is a saying: “Technique is what you use until the therapist arrives.” Good methods, in other words, can help a therapist understand a client’s dilemma, but good therapy does not begin until the real-life therapist connects with the real life of the client. [Similarly], technique is what teachers use until the real teacher arrives.
This implies that we not only need to know our subject matter, understand visitor interests and learning abilities, and have some techniques up our sleeve, but that we also must take a close look inside ourselves to see what makes us tick, what we enjoy the most about life, and how we can best share that with others. Who we are, what we truly care about, and whether we are willing to communicate that are as important as what visitors learn about nature or history.
Parker Palmer puts it like this: “The most practical thing we can achieve in any kind of work is insight into what is happening inside us as we do it. The more familiar we are with our inner terrain, the more sure-footed our teaching—and living—becomes.” Palmer encourages us to share our love of nature or history by immersing ourselves in it and encouraging students to jump right in as well. We must find ways to share our enthusiasm and interests with visitors to help them learn and enjoy doing it.
An important part of this is to re-familiarize ourselves with what we enjoyed about learning the most. Our most exciting times were probably not when we were listening to someone talk for 45 minutes. Many of us enjoyed lunchtime and recess more than class time. We enjoyed our physical abilities and the exhilaration of running wildly about, or simply talking animatedly with friends. We discovered where we fit into life socially. Don’t current students and adult visitors enjoy learning similarly?
The Options
I’m sure we are creative enough to devise more interactive ways to interpret. Using as many of the five senses as possible is a good start. Playing simulation games that illustrate environmental principles is another exciting way to involve visitors. Forming small groups in which participants discuss issues among themselves, help each other explore, or solve a riddle can transform what might otherwise be a lecture format. Providing a living history experience involves students more fully than simply looking at historic artifacts. Active participation can inject life and energy into learning.
In Last Child in the Woods: Saving Our Children from Nature-Deficit Disorder, Richard Louv shows how far we still have to go:
Nature-deficit disorder describes the human costs of alienation from nature, among them: diminished use of the senses, attention difficulties, and higher rates of physical and emotional illnesses. Nature-deficit disorder can be reversed: We can become more aware of how blessed our children can be—biologically, cognitively, and spiritually—through positive physical connection to nature.
Let’s make connections that are more powerful than standardized, memorizeable, testable curricula.
Bob is a ranger-naturalist and teaches ecology and park resource classes at San Francisco State University.
