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by Sherman Beverly The title says it all. It was the coldest day of the year. Snow, sleet and rain fill throughout the day. As we left Northeastern Illinois University (NEIU) that day in 1989, I wondered about my sanity. Here I was, a sixty-two year old man, in one of three vans, headed for the outdoors with nineteen young people and Dan Creely. I had no idea of what Wisconsin wilderness was like in winter. I did know, however, that we were embarking on the culmination of an adventure challenge course. Nothing, I thought, could come close to the ordeals we had confronted during the three months of preparations for that weekend. I was wrong. Dan and I were professors of education at NEIU. Dan in Physical Education and I in Social Studies. As 1986 Kellogg Fellows, we became aware of each other's ideas about facilitating learning. We agreed that experiencing learning is superior to acquiring information and skills. We are convinced that experiential learning is possible both in and outside the classroom. What Dan does in his adventure education classes, I do in the classroom. He provides young people with experiences from which to learn. I help them use their experiences as material for learning. We knew that each could learn from the other. So he invited me to take his course. I said yes. Thus began one of the most significant experiences of my life. My classmates were nineteen young students. All were young enough to be my children. Three classmates had taken a course with me. Another was a university security officer. According to his reputation, he never deviated from the book in doing his job. Very few people had seen him smile. Several students were very weak academically. One young lady, a known leader, was captain of the basketball team. Another worked as a counselor in the school's day nursery. Diversity in all its many forms was apparent from the beginning. The class would not work, however, unless its members became a team. We brought many fears in to the class. My personal fear was of heights. Two young fellows and a young lady were convinced that they were losers. Another young lady did not feel good about her family. Another thought that she knew all the answers and did not need the class. A young man, one of two African Americans-I am the other-felt at the outset that his ideas were not given due consideration in making decisions. He traveled a long distance on public transportation to get to the early morning class. Another student took the train for about five miles to a station near my home where I picked him up each day. We traveled the last fifteen miles together. The others had cars. One young lady, by all standards, was a pampered beauty queen. You get the picture. These were individuals who had to learn to trust each other if the weekend was to be successful. The activities Dan used to develop trust were challenging to us as individuals and as a group. We learned to trust classmates who stood behind us from falling to the floor as our stiff bodies fell backwards. We relaxed peacefully while being lifted high above our friend's heads. It was like floating on air. (We persuaded a student's mother who visited the class to experience the feeling of floating on air.) We fell backward-again stiffly-and nervously into our family's waiting arms from a height of at least five feet. We had to figure out a way to cross a wide chasm, while blindfolded, using only a pair of eight foot two by six boards, both of which were on our side of the chasm at the beginning. We had to get through an electrically charged fence one at a time without touching it. The fence had a narrow opening about three feet above the ground wide enough for only one person to get through, but not wide enough to step through without touching the fence. We learned how to belay while rappelling down a fifteen foot university wall. Every group succeeded, but only by depending on everyone's ideas and skills. The class involved more than just physical activities. We read about and discussed the spirituality of people who depend on nature for their survival. We began to understand the bond between them and their world. Dan used Native American cultures as examples; I used pre-European African cultures for the same purpose. We learned how to prepare for and embrace nature-the outdoors. We learned to use sleeping bags, put up tents, use outdoor cooking equipment, choose proper food for maximum energy, use climbing equipment, dress properly, etc. As time passed, we truly became soul mates. We read aloud from our journals. That way we could monitor our progress toward personal goals. Everyone became a peer counselor for whomever needed support. We stopped competing. Members who did not complete a task were encouraged to try again or just recognize personal limitations. Students found my campus office and came by regularly to talk. They phoned each other often. I was "Papa Smurf" to them. In the wilderness there are no professors, only students. All are equal partners. Physically, I suffer from arthritis, not enough to stop me, but enough to slow me down. One member went with us in spite of an ankle injury he suffered a few days before the journey. Both of us participated in every activity. There were small people, weak people, strong people and people who forgot important items. The first night was miserable. Dan pretended to have forgotten something-I've forgotten what it was-that had to do with the tents and would have made life a bit easier for us. We were prepared, however, and pitched in to help everyone get settled. One of the first tasks was to prepare a meal. Groups consisted of seven members who contributed three dollars a piece for food. That's twenty-one dollars to feed seven young people for two nights and three days. After much experimenting, all outdoor stoves worked. I've misplaced my journal and can't remember what we ate, but food was scarce. No one over ate or exceeded her/his portion without permission. Incidentally, no one was more helpful than the security officer. Soon it was bedtime. Each group had its own tarp that accommodated several members. I was cold and had to get up during the night to answer nature's call. Unable to locate my shoes in the dark, I finally walked on the frozen ground with only socks on my feet. We made it through the night, though I did not get much sleep. The second day was cold and dreary. Some of our feet began to hurt, because our two pairs of socks were too tight. Several people took turns rubbing and massaging friend's feet. The day's activities began. We hiked up a ridge to prepare for rappelling down a 90' cliff. Dan guided us while demonstrating how to test each spot before stepping. We reached the top. Soon it was time to rappell. The ridge was slippery. The ground below was frozen solid. Most of us met the challenge. After several attempts to take off, one young lady could not bring herself to do it. Nobody laughed. Some people descended more than once. I was satisfied with one successful attempt. We were slowly becoming confident in our ability to challenge ourselves beyond our wildest dreams. Just before dusk Saturday evening, Dan gave us a choice between using the same arrangement for sleeping as the night before, or sleeping in a nearby cave. He assured us that cave temperatures never drop below fifty degrees. I expected to ride the vans to the hill. Wrong again. We walked the short-according to Dan-distance to the cave. It was dark when we arrived after the two mile hike. My respect for young people skyrocketed on this trek. They didn't let me carry my own pack. Neither did they allow me to carry someone else's lighter one. We climbed the hill, which seemed like a mountain to me at night!!! For me, that was the scariest time. Unable to see, I imagined myself missing a step and tumbling nonstop hundreds of feet to the bottom. We made it. We checked to be sure no animals had claimed it before us. None were there, except some large spiders. Dan said they were harmless, and I suspect they were since no one reported being bitten. The floor was rock hard. We cleaned the cave of its animal waste before we went to bed. Someone loaned me her pillow and a blanket to place under my arthritic hip. I was pampered and enjoyed it. The young people enjoyed pampering me. It was warm in the cave, as promised, but uncomfortable and a bit scary. Some members, refusing to sleep in the cave with the spiders and animal waste, slept on the ledge near the cave opening. I slept. It was a restless sleep, because my hip forced me to constantly shift positions. After breakfast, we started down the hill. What a difference daylight makes!! It was only a hill. A missed step could only mean a tumble of a few feet into a tree. We were in a happy mood on the return trip to the campsite. We saw evidence of beavers and how they built their home. Our only serious disagreement arose at a fork in the road. We argued rather heatedly about which direction was the shortest way. For a while we forgot what the course taught us about cooperative problem-solving. Someone called our attention to what was happening, and we made a decision. I still don't know whether we took the long or short route, but nobody seemed interested in knowing. We gathered for a ceremony before leaving. A circle was formed and each of us was given an opportunity to say a few words about the weekend. Most of us spoke about personal feelings. As the title of this article reads, it was a horribly wonderful weekend. That first night was one of the most physically uncomfortable of my life. At no time, however, did I wish to be someplace else. I discovered things about myself. I overcame, to an extent, my fear of heights. I began to relate better than ever with young people. I understand now that they are not just fickle human beings wandering thoughtlessly through life. Their burdens are serious. I saw them empathize with each other. Some were more willing than others to seek help, but they were unable to prevent the rest of us from empathizing with our troubled mates. No pity was expressed, just plain concern for each other's well being. The words of the young beauty queen flattered me. "I wish you were my father," she said. Why, I wondered sadly, couldn't she glad of her own father. I now know that most fear is imagined. I believe the Latin proverb, "Our fears always outnumber our dangers." I also believe the Moroccan saying, "If you are afraid of something, you give it power over you." (1) My expectations of myself are expanded because of the unbelievably difficult problems we solve. I, more than ever, adhere to the power of group problem-solving. Concomitant with that is the realization that people need people. We also need the environment. The good earth seems better to me after having spent the two nights outdoors. Water tastes better; beds feel better; and there are no bad days-just days. I became a better classroom facilitator. I became more determined than ever to design learning experiences that reveal the value of their lives to young people. I'm in my seventy-second year now and am still young. Since retiring, I continue to work. Young people no longer amaze me with the extent of their wisdom. A strange thing happened to me on the way home from the weekend. I was dozing between sleep and consciousness when I saw seven Native Americans sitting on a corner waving cheerfully at us. My companions did not see them, even as I pointed toward them. I can't explain the vision, but, for me, it validated the weekend. My friends didn't consider it strange. Anything, they seemed to say, is possible. Almost a year after the weekend, I received a letter from one of the young ladies. She was a counselor at a Colorado summer camp for young people. My wife and I visited her that summer while on vacation. We were happy to see each other. She was overjoyed to be working high in the mountains, helping young people relate to nature. She was putting her experience to work. I suspect we all continue to use the insights we acquired during the winter of 1989 in our own unique ways. -Sherman Beverly, Jr., is Professor Emeritus, Social Studies Education at Northeastern Illinois University. He can be reached at (847)945-6271, FX (847(945-6372, e-mail Shevby@aol.com. (1) Reynold Feldman & Cynthia Voelke, "A World Treasury of Folk Wisdom" (San Francisco: Harper San Francisco, 1992), pp. 34 & 35. |