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Archive for June, 2010

Sharing Ideas Across Borders: An Invitation to an International Exchange of Ideas in Interpretation

25 Jun

By Robert J. Hanna

The reconstructed Römerkastell Saalburg, a historic fort at the frontier of the ancient Roman Empire, offers a wealth of interesting and educational programs for school groups and pre-booked groups.

It was exactly the kind of interpretive moment Freeman Tilden was talking about. I was in the Museum für Kommunikation Frankfurt, face-to-face with a movable-type printing press for the first time. A friendly interpreter there showed me how to arrange type into a brass holder, clamp it together, ink it, and roll it through the press onto paper. Suddenly movable type was no longer some mysterious, obsolete technology to me. It became the rumbling of clunky gears and rollers behind the pull lever, an inky mess on my fingers, a practice of creation. Type became not just shapes and symbols, but fistfuls of glistening black metal cubes, crunching like gravel in my hand, the tiny soldiers of a thousand bloody and bloodless revolutions.

I didn’t learn much that day—not if learning means picking up facts and names. Instead I learned to love something. And passing on such love is, after all, our first goal as interpreters. That interpretive experience opened up what will be a lifetime of learning to me. Now I can’t see a book bound in old-fashioned folios without studying it in detail. I later decided to take a trip to Mainz to see the Gutenberg Museum and wonder at Gutenberg’s strange new books. And goodness only knows how many of my friends had to listen to stories about my exciting new experiences with printing presses—and perhaps caught some of my excitement as well.

That’s the power of interpretation—to open up new experiences, not simply to teach, but to create learners, to awaken enthusiasm for new knowledge. For better or for worse, though, this project commits us to a never-ending search for new ideas. To interpret effectively, we need to reach our audiences where they are, offering them experiences that are fresh and surprising. An exhibit or tour that could have captured visitors’ imaginations years ago can easily be stale today.

An eye-catching display case in the Historisches-Museum Frankfurt.

This seems unpleasant, of course, but it is also what makes our work a matter requiring creativity—and thus what makes it fun. We are continuously looking at our sites, our parks, our tours, our interpretive centers, and so forth and asking ourselves how we can make them even more effective and interesting for our visitors. But no new ideas come without inspiration. Even the greatest thinkers didn’t just think up their new ideas all at once. They built upon and adapted earlier ones. That’s one of the reasons the National Association for Interpretation is so important to us—it provides an opportunity for us to exchange and build upon our ideas, both allowing us to improve our interpretation in everyday practice and to improve the art of interpretation as a whole.

And where better to look for new and fresh ideas than in other countries? Studying as an American in Germany for the last couple of years has shown me that even in the 21st century, many ideas still rarely cross national borders. People in every country have a habit of communicating with those who share the same culture and language. Reaching out across borders requires deliberate effort, but the results are rewarding.

The National Association for Interpretation has indeed been making strides towards increasing our international activities. The main efforts so far are the annual international conference, the ecotour program, the international volunteer program, and international partnerships with interpretive organizations in China and Korea.

However, NAI, while being enthusiastic about the benefits these activities will bring both to the association and to our contacts abroad, is also rather apologetic for them, as one can read on the Frequently Asked Questions (FAQ) page of the association website. There it is emphasized that the association avoids investing any money in our international activities. I’d like to contribute to a conversation about becoming more involved internationally and argue that everyone stands to benefit from such an undertaking.

Of course, if we look specifically for American-style heritage interpreters at nature reserves and historic sites abroad, we’ll find comparatively few. The idea of heritage interpretation today is mostly limited to the English-speaking world, such as Canada, the United Kingdom, and Australia. But if we consider anyone connecting resources and visitors in meaningful, educational, and enriching ways to be interpreting, then there are thousands of people the world over creatively seeking new and better ways to do just that. There’s a rich variety of ideas out there, and countless of them result in visitor experiences that are not only interesting and effective, but also unintentionally interpretive in the best sense of the world—like the printing press I encountered in Frankfurt.

The Museum für Kommunikation Frankfurt effectively uses masses of telephones, mailboxes, radios, and so forth to command visitors’ attention and invite them to study individual objects that interest them in detail.

I can offer Germany as just one example of a country where we might learn new ideas. The main forces for interpretation in Germany are museums, city tours, tour groups, and interpretive signage. Interpretation in the classic American sense at natural and historic sites is comparatively minimal but growing. However, if we look to museums, we’ll find a thriving wealth of new ideas—fundamentally interpretive ideas that bring natural or cultural resources and visitors together. Just a few decades ago, museums in Germany were assumed to be research institutions for scholars and experts. They weren’t really for the general public, and certainly not for kids. But you’d hardly know it now. Since then German museums have been striving with a vengeance to offer creative, attention-getting exhibits for audiences of all kinds.

One standout difference at these interpretive locations is an emphasis on local people. We who interpret in the United States often try so hard to attract tourists that we neglect people in the local area. Many German museums, on the other hand, see no reason why local enthusiasts shouldn’t visit their favorite museum as often as their favorite restaurant. There just has to be a reason to keep them coming back. Thus many German museums offer both special events and weekly classes to tempt in local fans on a regular basis. For example, a museum that interprets another culture might offer a weekly cooking class lasting several months to introduce participants to that culture’s traditional dishes. This slightly different emphasis makes sense, because local people are those we need most to thrive. One of the foremost buzzwords in German museum development today is Zielgruppen, or target groups. Such groups might be young children, teenagers, elders, or disabled people. Some museums, for example, have created tours specifically for blind visitors. To be effective, of course, these tours require an interpreter with considerable knowledge of how people with various kinds of vision impairments perceive and understand their surroundings, but they create an incredibly rewarding experience for visitors who might otherwise feel cut off from the world of interpretive sites. Dr. Sojna Schierle, director of pedagogy for the Linden Museum of Ethnology in Stuttgart, has described to me her new idea of recognizing families as a target group. She wanted to offer interactive activities that would bring parents and their children together. In one event, each family formed a team and competed against the other families to complete projects and answer questions about the exhibit. Since the resource was a collection of artifacts about Japanese Noh theater, the final project was for each family to organize a Noh-inspired puppet show.

Many of the ideas being developed are hidden behind the scenes. One of the main topics of discussion among German museum interpreters today is ethics. How does one balance bringing the resource to the public with preserving it? What should museums do with resources that came to their collections through questionable means, such as artifacts taken from colonies in earlier centuries? Is it respectful to interpret the religions of other cultures, and if so, how?

Although this Melanesian men’s house is an antique original, visitors to the Ethnologisches Museum Dahlem in Berlin are welcomed to climb inside.

Naturally, new ideas gleaned from abroad may need to be translated before we use them at home. What works well in one country might need adjustments before it works in another. For example, most interpreters in the United States cannot invest quite as many resources into seeking local visitation as German sites do, where the denser population makes for a larger pool of potentially interested locals.

Of course, people abroad would also like to learn our ideas. The ideas that NAI, the National Park Service, and each of us have been developing are valuable concepts that many interpreters in other countries would be very interested to hear about. I once spoke with a German professor who specializes in museum pedagogy about my interest in studying the subject. She encouraged me not to go into it, because all I’d find is that museums are constantly forced to compromise between educating and entertaining. Therefore I told her a little about heritage interpretation—neither exactly entertaining nor educating, but awakening visitors to a newfound interest in and enthusiasm about the resource. She was quite excited about the idea.

Sites the world over stand to benefit from the wisdom the NAI has been gathering and developing over the years, while NAI similarly stands to reap incredible new ideas from other countries. Think of a café mocha—one of the most delicious ideas in history. It took the contributions of people from Ethiopia, Yemen, the Mayan Empire, and Italy to produce it. I hope the future of heritage interpretation will be similar, with people from all over the world contributing and combining ideas into rich new interpretive experiences we can’t even imagine now.

Robert Hanna is a masters student in history at Philipps-Universität Marburg in Marburg, Germany, and a seasonal interpreter at Fort Abraham Lincoln State Park near Bismarck, North Dakota.

 
 

Way Beyond Darwin: Evolution of Human Consciousness and the Future of Interpretation

21 Jun

By Jon Kohl

Image by Dimitri Castrique / community.electricsheep.org.

From within our field, we might entertain the thought that interpretation changes and evolves according to actions of our own thinkers and programs, independent of the trajectories by which other fields such as environmental education, forestry, sociology, or even hair design might travel. But a momentary step outside our box might reveal that all society evolves in a larger sweep, a giant historical track that guides the future.

To glimpse this requires that we become conscious of the universal dimension of evolution, way beyond that of Darwin. Then, we can understand from whence interpretation has come and to where it marches. And, hopefully, we can help it arrive as soon as possible.

Universal Evolution Is Accelerating
Evolution did not start with Darwin’s theory of natural selection. Evolution began with a bang. The Big Bang unleashed galactic evolution. At first only hydrogen atoms populated infant space, but from its simplest atom evolved helium, lithium, beryllium, and on down the periodic table. Atoms clumped into clouds, then stars, then solar systems and galaxies, each time more complex than the time before.

After billions of years on our planet, the rocks cooled, sedimented, heated, and metamorphosed into tectonic plates, digging canyons, building mountain ranges, and creating ever more species of minerals.

After millions of years, the first prokaryotic unicellular organisms bubbled into existence among organic-chemical soups. Then came multicellular organisms, which grew larger and more complex, able to react to more stimuli in more interesting ways. Then proto-hominids evolved to the first self-conscious organisms on the planet.

After hundreds of thousands of years, many different cultures emerged. Then civilization.

After hundreds of years technologies evolved ever more rapidly.

With each passing scale, the universe grows more complex and conscious.

Human Consciousness Is Going Somewhere
If consciousness is an organism’s ability to perceive and react to ever more kinds of stimuli, then clearly from the earliest most archaic bacteria to humans, a lot of consciousness has evolved. But now in our modern age, our egocentric consciousness asks if evolution has stopped with people—if the natural driving forces that drove speciation for a couple billion years no longer applies to the pinnacle species that can short-circuit disease and hunger, and live under any condition. It’s a tempting thought since in the 10,000 years of human civilization, our bodies, even our brain mass, have not physically evolved in any substantial way.

Yet our brain power, our processing speed, and our ability to conceptualize and identify patterns and categories have increased by orders of magnitude. Powers beyond our ancestors’ imagination have emerged from within our skulls without any material change in that same skull. Development psychologists, such as Jean Piaget, have known for a long time that human cognitive, emotional, and other strictly interior capacities expand as we mature. These psychologists warn that no one gets to skip development levels, even if we move at different paces and attain different endpoints.

A newer kind of developmental psychologist now studies the evolution of consciousness both in individuals—adults are clearly more conscious than infants—and in cultures and societies. Consciousness, like everything else in the universe, evolves and becomes more complex. After many years, researchers and philosophers have mapped the levels of consciousness that humanity has experienced.

Archaic: This early consciousness corresponds to pre-culture hominids with the basic instinct of survival. Today this level can only be found in infants or adults who have regressed due to severe cerebral injury or illness.

Tribal: With the evolution of true culture, the life conditions of hunter-gatherers was a world controlled by animistic spirits who exercise power over humans. Fear and mystery envelop tribal folks whose most successful survival strategy has been to group together into tribes where everyone does all they can to support the group. Following rites and rituals to appease the spirits, this form of existence has succeeded for thousands of years. But eventually some began to reject the complete submission of individuality to the group and express individual motivation and expression.

Warrior: In this level of consciousness warriors excel based on their own strength and intelligence. They take what they can and lead through power. Through personal initiative and expression, the warrior consciousness, manifested in the likes of the Mongols, Vikings, and barbarians, survived successfully for many centuries and still exists today in certain parts of the world.

Traditional: In time some rejected the chaos and violence of the warrior mentality and from them evolved the traditional consciousness or worldview. Such cultures have a definitive code of law, usually revealed from a higher power that none of its followers can question. The code allows much greater order and organization capable of defeating warrior cultures and ushered in civilization, division of labor, great works of art and architecture, and also great ethnocentricity to any outside the “correct” way of living.

Modernist nature interpreters focus only on nature and science, preferring to avoid cultural, social, and ethical issues of concern for postmodern interpretation. By Jon Kohl.

Modernists: Starting in the Enlightenment, people began to reject the traditionalist requirement of accepting the code based on faith and submitting to the hierarchy that mediated communication with the gods. The modernists instead wanted to progress based on personal merit, thought, rationality, and ability. They created science and believed deeply in power of the mind and the individual’s right to exercise that power and enjoy its benefits. The modernists created democracy, capitalism, and professional bureaucracies, but in the process of promoting individual rights and merits, anyone not strong enough or smart enough or powerful enough fell by the wayside. Their materialist approach stripped away anything that could not be measured by science, such as morality and spirituality, leaving minority groups and the environment to suffer at the bloody hands of progress.

Post-modernists: Since the 1960s this new consciousness has emerged to challenge the waste, exclusion, materialism, individualism, and environmental destruction of modernism. The post-modernists promoted inclusion and every cause they could think of whether environmentalism, human rights, peace, green living, back-to-earth, organic, etc. Yet despite their achievements, the world still worsens. Post-modernists apply value relativism to all situations and while they claim to be open-minded and tolerant they despise the abuses of traditionalists and modernists.

Integralists: Starting in the 1980s a few people disenchanted with the worsening conditions of the world and the ongoing culture wars between traditionalists, modernists, and post-modernists came to realize that in fact there exist multiple levels of consciousness coexisting simultaneously and depending on different sets of life conditions. They realize that individuals and groups evolve along a developmental course that brings them through these levels and ultimately all problems have a large consciousness component. This is the first level to realize that different kinds of consciousness and different values exist, none being the one right way, and each contributing something positive and negative to overall human consciousness on Earth.

Integral Theory, then, embodies this new worldview and even anticipates new post-integral worldviews to come.

Paradigm of Interpretation Goes with the Worldview Flow
Every worldview embodies a forest of paradigms, where each paradigm explains how some aspect, technology, belief system, or field works. Paradigms can pass between worldviews but evolve when they do so. For example, environmental education, adaptive management, and interpretation all were born in modernism with their principal paradigm and corresponding rules and beliefs.

Modernists created all three fields as a response to mounting damage from modernism’s own exploits. Both Enos Mills and Freeman Tilden worked in the modernism era and expressed values of trying to rectify damages to nature and national parks. With the arrival of post-modernism in the 1960s these fields began to take on post-modern ideas. Modernism had left people without meaning by stripping spirituality, community, and sacred spaces from common thought. This presented a big opportunity for interpreters who could help to instill or re-instill the notion of place, rather than just a material, utilitarian, modernist space. Interpreters could integrate multiple forms of knowing rather than just science, modernism’s sole source of legitimate knowledge. Some interpreters adopted the idea that meanings are relative to the meaning-makers rather than inherent in places, a modernist idea.

Even today, interpretation (and most other fields in society) suffers from being caught between worldviews. Many modernist interpreters, for example, focus only on science and nature interpretation and leave out social systems when interpreting environmental and conservation problems. These same interpreters employ anthropocentric universal themes (where the definition of a universal theme is one that all people, regardless of culture can relate to). Post-modern interpreters, on the other hand, have thrown themselves full into integrating indigenous messages, underground railroad, and stories of other erstwhile-ignored or suppressed minority points of view, or themes that take up causes the world over, and not just particular sites.

Integral Interpreters Focus on Evolving Consciousness and Global Crisis
To be an integral interpreter requires an even broader consciousness, to embrace universal themes that do not refer only to universal human experiences but themes about the entire universe. For integralists, evolution becomes the highest value and deepest source of interpretive themes. Understanding evolution, integralists see the directionality of greater complexity and greater consciousness. This direction gives purpose to evolution, to the universe, and all creation, much more enriching than the modernist claim that life is simply the result of random and purposeless natural selection. It integrates spirituality into interpretation, a forbidden topic in the modernist world. Evolution ties together interpretation about all other systems, whether shipbuilding or forest history or the Civil War or the Crab Nebula. Integralists integrate the modern science with post-modern spirituality. They interpret how different life conditions give rise to different worldviews, and they understand and interpret that all problems in the world have a large consciousness component. Integral interpreters, because of the gloomy life conditions in which we live today, understand that they need to interpret problems and solutions to audiences with different worldviews within the context of values relevant to each worldview. This integrates an entirely new aspect to understanding one’s audience.

Integralists, by their more holistic nature, don’t just interpret geographically bounded heritage places (and they don’t use the modernist term “resources” anymore), but the heritage’s place in the evolving universe.

Conclusion
With climate change, pandemics, peak oil, and food shortages, the life conditions—especially of Westerners in the 2000s—grow increasingly obvious and urgent. We need interpreters to look beyond the 19th-century modernist concept of protected areas and identify with a larger consciousness, at least worldcentric, if not beyond. Interpreters, to be truly relevant in this century, can’t simply hide in local sites, but must participate in helping solve problems based in consciousness. This age, though with dire challenges afoot, presents the most glorious moment in history for interpreters, but first we must evolve beyond Darwin.

Jon Kohl is a writer, interpreter, eco-village builder, and long-term consultant with UNESCO’s World Heritage Center. Visit him at www.jonkohl.com.

 

Provoking the Profession

16 Jun

By Robinne Weiss

As I perused the latest issue of Legacy, I read, yet again, the mantra of Tilden’s Principles. Yet again, they were hauled out as a sort of non-violable Truth—“Thou shalt be relevant.” It sounded like a religion, not a profession. Are we working solely on our faith in the proclamations of Tilden? Have we blinkered ourselves to relevant work and ideas in other fields? Has there been no advancement in our professional thinking since 1957?

Is Tilden the only answer?

Freeman Tilden: Overused? Courtesy National Park Service.

Now, don’t get me wrong; Tilden published some great ideas and his insight is still relevant today. But as professionals, I believe we have a duty to critically evaluate the theoretical basis of our work. We need to seek out alternative ideas and test our ideas in objective ways.

So, at the risk of being labeled a heretic, I would like to provoke a healthy skepticism and discussion about Tilden’s principles, and I would like to encourage interpreters to cast their intellectual nets farther afield to benefit from the thoughts and research of others.

Evaluating Tilden
Let’s start by evaluating Tilden’s principles. If we are going to use them as the basis for interpretation, let’s make sure they are well supported by research and are relevant to interpreters. I’ll pick on two of Tilden’s principles.

Principle 3: “Interpretation is an art, which combines many arts, whether the materials presented are scientific, historical or architectural. Any art is in some degree teachable.”

This is a nice observation, but is this worthy of being hailed as a “principle” of interpretation? Has an understanding of this idea ever led to a better interpretive program or panel? I doubt it. Yet because Tilden said it was a principle, it is part of every interpretive training. We all learn it, then file it in the “need to know for the test” file, where it gathers dust once the test is over.

Principle 5: “Interpretation should aim to present a whole rather than a part, and must address itself to the whole man rather than any phase.”

This is two distinct ideas masquerading as one principle. The first idea is “aim to present a whole rather than a part.” When this idea is fleshed out in Interpreting Our Heritage, it is essentially the same idea as thematic interpretation (as explained by Sam Ham in Environmental Interpretation). The practice of thematic interpretation is well supported by research and has been more fully developed and described since Tilden. Let’s quote the current understanding of this “principle” instead.

The second idea in the fifth principle is that interpretation should “address itself to the whole man.” In other words, know your audience and their needs and interests. Engage them fully using a variety of techniques. This is worth an entire principle of its own and we can draw on extensive research in education and psychology to inform and support this principle. Let’s let go of our faith in Tilden here and look at what others can tell us.

Casting Our Nets Wider
Where can we turn for theoretical underpinning and good, practical advice? Here are just a few alternatives that I have found useful and (dare I say?) provocative:

Alternative Voices in Interpretation
For a more modern perspective on the principles of interpretation, have a look at Interpretation for the 21st Century by Ted Cable and Larry Beck. Cable and Beck have reworked Tilden’s principles and added other important principles, along with concrete thoughts on how to put them into practice. Their ideas are relevant and well considered. If I had to choose the six most important principles of interpretation, I’d leave out some of Tilden’s and add a few of Cable and Beck’s.

Science Literature
One of the best communicators in the scientific community is Edward Tufte, professor emeritus at Yale, statistician, and sculptor. Tufte’s books include Beautiful Evidence, The Visual Display of Quantitative Information, Envisioning Information, and Visual Explanations (all published by Graphics Press). Anyone who displays data on panels, brochures, reports to the board, or any other printed medium should read at least one of these. He provides real examples of how to (and how not to) present information in a visual way so that readers can easily and accurately decipher the data and the message you are trying to communicate.

Education Literature
Our audience may be non-captive and there will be no test at the end of our programs, but we can still learn a great deal from research in education. How do people transfer knowledge and skills from our programs to their home environment? A good educational psychology book can give us research-based ideas for making this happen. How do we make that unruly school group focus and pay attention? Educational research can provide us tools to do so. A few of my favorite resources from education are:

Primary Science…Taking the Plunge. Ed. Wynne Harlan. Heinemann Educational Publishers. Oxford. 1985. (This edition is out of print, but a second edition was published in 2001.)

This text is a delightful read, and worthwhile for any interpreter who falls into the trap of talking for the entirety of his or her program. It is written for elementary school science teachers, but has excellent information on how to ask the right questions, how to encourage students (visitors) to observe and ask questions, and how to guide people to an understanding of something by interacting with it.

Educational Psychology, Fourth Edition. N.L. Gage and D.C. Berliner. Houghton Mifflin Co., Boston. 1988.

My version is quite dated, but I still refer to it when I find myself having difficulty with a particular program or audience. Pick up a recent edition that incorporates the recent research.

Teach Like a Champion: 49 Techniques that Put Students on the Path to College. D. Lemov. (To be published in April 2010. Information and excerpts available at http://uncommonschools.org/usi/aboutUs/taxonomy.php.)

My new favorite—I can’t wait until the whole book is out. Though the techniques are aimed at school teachers, many of them are excellent pointers for interpreters, too. Where they differ, Lemov’s explanation of how and why teachers should do something has provoked me to think more carefully about why I don’t do it.

Environmental Education
I know there are interpreters who divide the world into environmental education (EE) and interpretation, highlighting the differences between the two professions, but they share a great deal of common ground. Most interpretation has a purpose. We hope that, after experiencing our interpretation, visitors will value the resource, want to learn more, or do something to help protect the resource. Environmental education has many of the same purposes. There is good research going on in EE and there are good (and often different) approaches to achieving goals in EE. Interpreters could learn a lot from environmental education’s focus on issues-based education, and the development of empowerment and ownership to effect behavior change. Some good EE reading includes:

Essential Readings in Environmental Education. Ed. H. Hungerford, W. Bluhm, T. Volk and J. Ramsey. Stipes Publishing L.L.C. Champaign, Illinois. 1998.

This text is slightly dated, but includes some of the foundational works in EE. There are many lessons for interpreters here.

Earth Education: A New Beginning. S. Van Matre. Institute for Earth Education, Greenville, West Virginia. 1990.

This book is provocative and contentious, and not research-based, but contains some great insights into sharing passion for a resource. Even if you disagree with what Van Matre has to say, I guarantee he will provoke you to think more carefully about what you do as an interpreter.

A Challenge to Interpreters
I have highlighted just a few of the resources interpreters can draw on for both theoretical and practical insights to improve our interpretation. There are many more, from fields as far flung as philosophy, public speaking, and television broadcasting. I challenge you to seek out new ways of thinking about interpretation, new theories and research to guide your work, and new insights into how to deliver your interpretive message. Then share your new discoveries with the rest of us. Write an article for Legacy that does not mention Tilden, but draws insight and inspiration from some of the other great writers and thinkers around us.

Robinne Weiss is an interpreter and consultant based in Leeston, New Zealand. She can be reached at Robinne@InterpTech.com. The author thanks her husband, Ian Dickie, a scientist who provokes her to question interpretive theory and practice.

 
 

Interpreting the Night Sky

11 Jun

The space shuttle Endeavour and the International Space Station rise from the northwest horizon, as seen from New York City on February 21, 2010. Courtesy Jim Cook.

By Rhana Smout Paris

Do you know what phase the moon is in right now? Can you find the North Star? Pick out a constellation and tell me a story about its creation.

If you can do any of the above, you are in the minority in America. There was a time when knowing the night sky meant knowing when best to plant your next crop, finding your way home on the open sea, or giving a frightened child a comforting connection to the dark night. Nowadays, most people tend to rush from one lighted spot to the next. Few of us stop to look at the night sky, much less stay outside long enough for our eyes to adjust to the dark.

And yet, astronomy programs are popular with interpreters and visitors alike—why? How can you create an astronomy program that follows a proper interpretive approach when the subject is inherently intangible to most people?

While it was by no means a thorough survey, I had a chance to ask a couple of fellow interpreters why they did astronomy programs. Each was excited and specific about what they and their participants got from the experience. John Fullwood said that astronomy programs were “rewarding personally because visitors came to learn and enjoy the night sky.” Saiward Turnbaugh spoke about the mind-boggling nature of black holes and how they can be hard to grasp. She likes how astronomy discussions open up other questions. While talking with James Wooten, he became animated in his description of some of his favorite star activities, relating how he likes to give the kids time to create their own constellations on butcher paper, complete with their own star stories.

Jim Cook, a volunteer interpreter who provides his personal telescope for others to use, perhaps said it best: “Suddenly I had been given the power to show people the moon and Saturn. And so wherever I went, I did.” He goes on, “Obviously, I would show people other objects, too, but the moon, and especially Saturn, have always been in a class by themselves. My reward was simply hearing people say, usually in a rather hushed voice, ‘Oh…my…God.’ Or, in the case of younger kids, it’s often an excited, ‘I see it! I see it!’ It’s a very special feeling to be able to evoke such expressions from people.”

From a visitor’s perspective, where else but the night sky can you easily experience such grandeur? It is almost as if the human body is built for looking up at and being amazed by the night sky—when we tilt our head back, the jaw automatically drops open so we might utter one syllable: “Wow!” Sure, you can get the same effect at lots of amazing places—standing near the ocean or at the rim of the Grand Canyon—but not everyone can travel to such sites. The night sky and its light show are free to anyone who goes to their backyard, roof top, or local park. Folks just need someone to teach them how to get around the universe!

The scattering of stars across the dome of the sky can look random to the untrained eye. I am often asked whether people long ago had better imaginations or were smoking something to create anything from such a mess. Tell a compelling, universally understood story about love and jealously or foolishness and redemption, and the stars’ patterns that make the constellations become more clear and the stories memorable. I can’t think of a culture that doesn’t have at least one story to explain how constellations came to be. Often they represent a who’s who of the heroes and villains of a local people and provide the storyteller with a reminder of the important moral stories to be passed on to the next generation—a kind of mnemonics in the sky.

One of my favorite stories requires the audience’s help to tell it properly. It is the Greek story of Cassiopeia, Andromeda, Perseus, Pegasus, and Cetus. These constellations are found near the North Star and most are visible throughout most of the year. Each character has an associated sound, which the audience utters in unison when that character’s name is said over the course of the story. Cassiopeia warrants a hiss for being conceited, Andromeda gets a girlish sigh, and so on. Start telling that story to a squirmy group of school kids and you get instant attention. The message is passed on—bad behavior begets punishment—and the constellations are learned.

The themes an astronomy program could follow are as numerous as the stars themselves. The vocabulary can be equally dense—from zenith to nadir, declination to right ascension, or Messier objects to black holes, to name a few. I will often move from the moon to the planets to deeper space to establish an organized flow for a general astronomy program. Other times I will focus only on the moon or only on that season’s constellation stories. Find the topic that suits you best and bootstrap common ideas and items to help your participants grasp the vastness of space.

The constellations Orion and Taurus battle over Black Hill Regional Park’s Lake Seneca, in Boyds, Maryland. Photo by Jim Cook.

Such programs don’t require much investment in equipment to be successful. They can be as basic as walking outside and looking up or as involved as coordinating with a local astronomy club that, in all likelihood, is more than happy to share its telescopes and knowledge with your group. Star charts are easy to obtain and will work for most places in North America—the stories you tell at a campfire on the East Coast will serve the visitors well when they return to the West.

Shake out your hands! Now you have a handy tool for measuring distances in space, which is measured in degrees. With your arm outstretched, the width of your little finger is about one degree, your fist is 10 degrees across, and the distance between the tips of your little finger and your thumb, when your hand is stretched out like the American Sign Language symbol for the letter Y, is 25 degrees. It doesn’t matter if you are a star basketball player or a little kindergartner—these widths of fingers and hands hold when found at the end of an arm that is proportionately long.

This measurement sleight of hand comes in “handy” when describing where one celestial object is in relation to another. Look for the Big Dipper—it is the constellation that looks like a side-view of a saucepan in the northern part of the night sky. The depth of the “saucepan” is about five degrees and its opening is about 10 degrees across. Want to find the North Star? Extend the front edge of the “saucepan” up about 28 degrees and you have Polaris.

Use this hand measurement trick the next time you see the full moon rising in the east. Put your little finger next to the moon. What, at first, appears to measure about two inches wide will appear to shrink in size to be, in actuality, less than one degree wide. Other knowledge about the moon is equally transferable to anywhere on Earth. There is something comforting about seeing the moon where I am and knowing that wherever my loved ones are on Earth, they are seeing the same moon in the same phase, whenever their nighttime happens to come. As the refrain of the old lullaby goes, “I see the moon, and the moon sees me, and the moon sees the one that I long to see.” This concept of family and longing is universally understood.

Distances, sizes, and speeds are perhaps the most daunting subjects to make understandable to the general public. The distance to the nearest star, the sizes of the planets, and the speed the galaxy is traveling are all measured in numbers that make the national deficit look small. Using relative sizes and distances can help make these numbers more manageable and relevant to visitors.

For instance, if we were to travel to Proxima Centauri, the nearest star to us within our Milky Way galaxy, it would be like an ant working his way across America. A lot can happen to an ant on such a journey! Here is another analogy: If the sun is the size of a ping pong ball, Sirius, the brightest star to us, would be the size of a tennis ball. How far would I need to throw the tennis ball in order to keep the relative distance between these two stars in proportion to their new sizes? Across the room? Across the street? Try 1,000 miles away—from my location in North Carolina, that would be like throwing the tennis ball all the way to New Orleans. Say I wanted to travel to the sun. At 93 million miles away, that is no small distance, but what does 93 million miles mean to a kid? Let’s use transportation that is available to the common man. I have a couple of options. I could save money and drive to the sun—a car travelling 55 miles an hour would take 193 years to make the trip one way. Don’t want to spend that much time behind the wheel? A 747 airplane, at a rate of 600 miles an hour, would take 17 years. And then you have to come back to Earth—talk about a road trip!

Justifying the purpose of an astronomy program might seem out of reach. Save for planetariums, what facility or park truly deals with objects and phenomena so far removed from daily existence? For general knowledge, perhaps—point out the North Star in a campfire program and you might help a scout find his way back to camp. But who really needs to know astronomy?

A park ranger once questioned inventor John Dobson about the appropriateness of bringing telescopes to a public park. Dobson devised the mount that allows amateurs to build their own telescopes from common items and inspired the Sidewalk Astronomers, a volunteer group that conducts impromptu star programs on the streets of San Francisco. “The sky is not part of the park,” the ranger was reported to have said. Dobson replied, “No, but the park is part of the sky.”

We might not need to know the phase of the moon to plant our backyard tomatoes. More than likely, our GPS will get us back to port. And you can plug in a nightlight if your child is scared of the dark. Still, I think having a relationship with the night sky is something primal and universal. Carl Sagan once said that we are made of star dust. Science backs this up. So maybe the stars are not so much “out there” and removed from our everyday lives. We, like Dobson’s park, are part of the stars.

So take a break from the artificial lights of our modern existence and take a walk outside some star-filled night. Let your eyes adjust. Allow your head to flop back and your jaw to drop open. All together now: “Wow….”

For More Information
Ham, Sam H. (1992.) Environmental Interpretation: A Practical Guide for People with Big Ideas and Small Budgets. Golden, CO: North American Press.

Moser, Don. (2005.) 35 Who Made a Difference: John Dobson. Retrieved March 1, 2010, from www.Smithsonian.com.

Rhana Smout Paris is a long-time interpreter and frequent presenter at NAI National Workshops. She is the outreach coordinator at the North Carolina Aquarium on Roanoke Island. The author thanks Jim Cook, John Fullwood, Saiward Turnbaugh, and James Wooten for their feedback.

 

Taking a Layered Approach to Interpretive Training

07 Jun

By Julia Pinnix

Looking for a new way to approach training interpreters? Try a “layered walk.”

Demonstrations are an excellent way to involve visitors and trainees alike. Choose a spot where folks can linger, like this bench in the woods, where a flint knapper prepared his display.

As interpreters, we’re supposed to consider who our audience is and tailor our approach. Interpreters-in-training are a special kind of audience. Many of us are hands-on, big-picture people who like to be active and learn best by doing and seeing. I’ve attended countless trainings for interpreters that are strictly lecture format—I’ve even, forgive me, set up trainings that way myself. Here’s a way to rip yourself out of that mode and get people really involved in learning the art of interpretation.

My goal was to come up with a training activity that accomplished multiple objectives: show people new to the area what a popular part of the park looks like, show a variety of different ways to engage visitors through informal interpretive techniques, show some ways of dealing with common problems encountered while roving, and provide area-specific information they could use. I picked a short trail often recommended to visitors and recruited fellow staff to make presentations.

Each staff person was assigned an interpretive technique or situation. They were stationed along the trail, ready to encounter groups of trainees (as well as the public). I divided the trainees into three smaller groups, assigning two people in each group to wear bandanas around their arms to identify them as “children.” This would allow staff to tailor their choices of techniques to either kids or adults during encounters. The group set off at staggered intervals, so they wouldn’t bunch up or run into one another.

We began the walk with a lesson in coping with dogs on trails. In this particular park, dogs aren’t allowed to walk trails, even on leashes, and the issue is one that comes up frequently for all park employees. I was the staff person for this encounter session, and had recruited a volunteer and his service dog to play the part of a visitor. As the first group approached, accompanied by the dog and its owner, I stepped forward and greeted them, and demonstrated how to cope with the situation. Then the group went on to the next station, and I signaled the second group to come on in.

The next station had a spotting scope set up for the staff person to use as bait to draw in visitors. He demonstrated how to do this and then gave a brief informal lesson on local geology.

The third station was located at a historic cabin. As the group approached, they encountered a staff person in period costume playing the role of a character from the time period the cabin represented.

Junior Rangers were the target for the fourth station. The designated “kids” were greeted and given a booklet and instructions on how to become a Junior Ranger. The staff person demonstrated how to use children to engage their parents.

Station five had a staff person holding cedar bark, which he used as a tool to talk with visitors about the trees in the forest. The group learned information as well as seeing the effectiveness of having something for visitors to handle.

The sixth station was located beside a bench. The staff person had laid out an attractive assortment of cultural artifacts and materials, and was working on making stone tools. He invited folks to come see what he was doing and used the display and demonstration as a means to engage visitors in thinking about the native people of the region. They could sit on the bench to watch him work.

As the groups crossed a small bridge over a wetland, a staff person was waiting at station seven to ask if they smelled anything unusual. Skunk cabbage was emerging, a great opportunity to demonstrate how to engage visitors through their own senses, as well as how to take advantage of a natural interpretive opportunity.

A person in the group was asked beforehand to help out with the last station. As the group approached the station, they saw a stuffed chipmunk perched on a railing. The shill in the group pretended to offer the chipmunk food, and the staff person lurking nearby demonstrated how to deliver the important message: “Please keep the wildlife wild!”

At the end of the walk, the group returned to a central meeting site and was led in a discussion about the walk. What had they learned? What techniques could they identify? What issues came up? What were the differences between interpretation, information, and educating visitors about park regulations?

One of the best side benefits of the exercise was the presence of actual visitors. The exercise took place on a popular trail at mid-day on a weekend, and lots of families were out enjoying the park. The trainees got to see staff really interacting with the public, not just role-playing for their benefit. Visitors got a richer experience, too.

Out of the entire training experience, this exercise was one of the most popular. It met the needs of the audience: they were outside, active, seeing the interpretive skills they were learning demonstrated by their supervisors and coworkers, and becoming familiar with the park. From a trainer’s perspective, it illustrated the points we wanted to emphasize and inspired participants to engage with the place and with the presenters at each station. And for everyone involved, it was fun.

Training should be as interpretive as the programs we want our staff to deliver. It should be engaging, meaningful, memorable, and relevant. It should inspire staff to connect with visitors and help them discover the magic of the place they are visiting. Too often, we lean on information alone and forget our own lessons. Look for creative ways to involve your staff in practicing interpretation during training. Show them, don’t just tell them, and you’ll see positive results over the course of the season.

Julia Pinnix is entering her 22nd year as an interpretive naturalist. Currently a seasonal lead ranger at Mount Rainier National Park, she has worked for the National Park Service, US Forest Service, private companies, and non-profit organizations.