Our middle and high school students tried their hands at geocaching on our visit to the Audubon Center at the confluence of the Mississippi and Missouri Rivers.
They got their GPS units and instructions on how to use them: basically just choose the right waypoint and follow the arrow. They were told that they wouldn’t need to walk through the prairie.
But the arrow pointed toward the prairie.
Following the GPS.(These guys were actually on a trail). The Mississippi River is in the background.
The results were scratched legs and quite a number of boarders.
Seedpod boarders.
Afterwards, our guide pointed out that they could have found all the caches by using the paths.
Looking into the narrow passageway that our guides called the "Birth Canal".
They took us into a sculpted, limestone cavern they called “Twins Cave”. The entrance was large, but, for those with the predilection, there were narrower passageways that required crawling, wiggling, and a definite lack of claustrophobia.
Apart from the wonderful speleotherms, the cave was home to some charismatic fauna.
An owl sits amid the stalactite formations near the roof of the cave.A salamander wanders the floor, picking its way through the limestone debris.
Though I did not capture any pictures of bats, they flew around us, and we found evidence of their presence just under the cloying red mud that covered most of the cave floor.
Much of the cave was floored with a sticky, red, residual clay, which, in places, covered deposits of bat guano.
The limestone precipitated cave formations were quite beautiful: fluted, cathedral-organ-like stalactites;
Fluted stalactites reminiscent of Gaudi.
thin, precise straws hanging from the ceiling:
Looking up at the crystal encrusted straws hanging from the ceiling.
The juxtaposition of the beauty above us and the mess beneath our feet brought into focus the idea that happiness is not an absolute thing, but rather comes from the difference between misery and joy.
Observing my students figuring out how to canoe on the river this last outdoor education trip has reinforced my belief in the effectiveness of authentic team-building experiences over simulations and co-operative games.
Each morning, I assigned different pairs of students to each canoe. One of the main objectives of the outdoor ed trip is to help integrate the 7th and 8th graders, and the new 8th graders into a cohesive group. Good relationships among the students are necessary to achieve the benefits of the multi-age classroom.
Figuring out which way is upstream and which way is downstream.
It took them a while (sometimes up to an hour on the water), but they eventually figured out how to work together.
And when one of the canoes tipped over — more from overconfidence than from anything else — everyone pitched in to help recover the canoe.
Recovering the tipped canoe.
Then, when the storms came, they pulled together and all the practice paid off.
Paddling through the storm.
No simulation could have matched the experience.
Forging a team out of cold water, thunder, and lightening.
Out along the Current River, we found evidence of large, vegetarian animals (see above). When we described the feces to our guide, he suspected that they might be from one of the small herds of wild horses that roam the area.
The story goes, that when the government acquired the lands for the Current River Conservation Area and changed the rules about what could be done in the area, horses were released in protest by the local farmers.
The middle school has been studying The Tempest over the last quarter. In order to give students a deeper connection with this Shakespearean play, we arranged for students to experience the titular meteorological phenomenon on our outdoor education trip last week. Since we’re located in the mid-continent, replicating the precise maritime conditions and acquiring the appropriate vessel would have been cost prohibitive. Instead, taking advantage of the local geography and socio-cultural predilections, we improvised by arranging for a series of thunderstorms during a canoe trip in the Ozarks.
In truth, the main purpose of our outdoor education trip was to integrate the upcoming 7th graders and new students into the middle school class. The key advantage of the multi-aged classroom is the opportunity for older students to mentor the younger students, and propagate the appropriate classroom culture and expectations from year to year. But for this to work well requires students to develop strong working relationships and communication skills. The isolation of the trip (no technology) and the coordination required for the tasks we perform (such as paddling a 2-person canoe) greatly facilitate this process.
Despite being drenched, chilled, and a little scared, the group’s performance was remarkable. They endured the worst of the storms, looking out for each other with encouraging words and heartening smiles. They found the strength within themselves as individuals and as a group to keep morale high while on the river. And, when we pulled over, were able to bask in the giddy relief that a good group feels after stressful situations. By the end, they had developed a genuine camaraderie forged by a shared, intense challenge.
P.S. We also did some rock climbing, caving, spent a night on a sandbar, journaled, and learned a bit about geology, hydrogeology, fish surveys, the rock cycle, and some vocabulary (“hubris” was a term, new to many, that was ably demonstrated by the pair who flipped their canoe).
Rock climbing.Spelunking.
P.P.S. Our excellent, invaluable guides on the trip were from Discovery Ministries, which is a religious organization, but they do non-religious programs for groups like ours.
A line of canoes float past limestone bluffs in the midst of a thunderstorm.
The middle school class has been reading The Tempest for language arts this semester. However, I had not quite realized that it was a presentiment of for our outdoor education canoeing trip. And not metaphorically — the group worked amazingly well together — but there really was a massive storm while we were out paddling on the Current River.
Weather map from Wednesday, September 26th, 2012.
On Wednesday morning, two hours before dawn, a cold front heading south from Canada met a warm front coming north out of the Gulf. They met and stalled, pushing waves of clouds and thunderstorms over us from the west.
The first wave hit while we were in our tents; the second during breakfast. One student recounted that his highest point of the trip was when he tasted his first pancake that morning. His lowest point was when the pancake was promptly soaked with rain.
The third wave met us while we were in our canoes.
Searing lightning, flashing across the ridges of the valley. Blinding white. Immediate thunder, roaring straight through the ears, reaching in, taking the breath, grabbing at the soul. Drenching rain — cold and hard — a deluge. One of our guides described it, afterwards, as a religious experience. I think I know what she meant.
Our guide (Ronnie) takes refuge under an overhang during the height of the downpour.
But the kids were awesome. Drenched, cold, and scared they paddled on. I was with a small group that was bringing up the rear. We were far enough behind that, for a long time, I could not tell how the students in the lead were responding. Especially when, at the height of the downpour, the lead group went around a bend in the river and out of our line of sight.
And there was a loud cheer.
I knew they were with our lead guide (Leah), whose skill and competence had already been demonstrated earlier in the day when one of the canoes had flipped. Yet, one always worries about how kids will react in stressful situations. Following the current around a gravel eyot, however, I heard a loud cheer. There was the line of canoes, pulled over waiting for us. There were the students, soaked and perhaps a little bit relieved, but with no panic in the cacophony of voices.
When everyone had caught up, we continued on. Eventually, we hit a landing and called an end to the canoeing. Although the rain had stopped it was still cold. So, a few students decided that since the river water was so cold, if they waited in the water, when they came out they’d feel warm. “I’m willing to deceive my body,” they said.
Waiting for the bus.
While we waited for the bus, we talked a little about what we’d been through. Despite the stress — or perhaps because of — there was lots of laughter and a growing sense of camaraderie. I took the chance to highlight some of the quieter voices, those students who tend not to complain or be too excitable, and who took the time to appreciate the beauty and uniqueness of what they’d been through.
While I would not have planned it that way, the storm, our tempest, forged bonds of common experience that will resonate with this group for years to come.
The first raindrops create tiny, concentric, waves that spread out and merge gently over space and time.
Notes
Infra-red satellite imagery from Wednesday, September 26th, 2012 shows the waves of thunderstorms passing over southern Missouri (yellow dot) very well.
A discussion of the physics of flight, interspersed with birds of prey swooping just centimeters from the tops of your head, made for a captivating presentation on avian aerodynamics by the people at the World Bird Sanctuary that’s just west of St. Louis.
Lift
The presentation started with the forces involved in flight (thrust, lift, drag and gravity). In particular, they focused on lift, talking about the shape of the wings and how airfoils work: the air moves faster over the top of the wind, reducing the air pressure at the top, generating lift.
The shape of a bird's wing, and its angle to the horizontal, generates lift. Image adapted from Wikipedia User:Kraaiennest.
Then we had a demonstration of wings in flight.
Terror from the air.
We met a kestrel, one of the fastest birds, and one of the few birds of prey that can hover.
Kestrel.
Next was a barn owl. They’re getting pretty rare in the mid-continent because we’re losing all the barns.
Barn owl.
Interestingly, barn owls’ excellent night vision comes from very good optics of their eyes, but does not extend into the infrared wavelenghts.
Barn owl in flight.
Finally, we met a vulture, and learned: why they have no feathers on their heads (internal organs, like hearts and livers, are tasty); about their ability to projectile vomit (for defense); and their use of thermal convection for flying.
The ground warms when it absorbs sunlight (e.g. parking lots in summer) and in turn warm the air near the ground. Hot air rises, creating a convection current, or thermal, that the vultures use to gain height.
The Sanctuary does a great presentation, that really worth the visit.
