I am an outdoors enthusiast. One day my wife, Melinda, and I set out at dawn on a trail that led to a downed B-29 bomber, which had tragically smacked into the top of a thirteen-thousand foot peak in the Rocky Mountains shortly after the start of World War II. I had taken this fifteen-mile trek fifteen years earlier with a canteen and a few granola bars. That was before I knew about sudden weather changes, hypothermia, and altitude sickness. On the foray with my wife, we bivouacked at twelve thousand-plus feet while we watched lightning descend from clouds that lay at eye level. Melinda proceeded to get altitude sickness while I, with compass and map in hand, got us hopelessly lost. Two more storms (lightning was striking all around us) and fourteen miles later, we stumbled down to eleven thousand feet at 8:00 p.m. We found a tent inhabited by a German family, who let us spend the night in their alcove. We curled up on the hard wet ground and shivered until dawn when we set out for the trailhead.
What does this have to do with St. Bernard's? you may ask. Stuart Johnson may have asked the same question when I came to him requesting a goodly sum of money to attend a month-long National Outdoor Leadership School (NOLS) course. I had a plan. St. Bernard's needed a wilderness program. I needed a wilderness program, and NOLS training would help me run one. The course was billed as an outdoor educator's course for people with experience, who desired to teach wilderness skills to others. I wanted and needed to learn more skills, and I suspected that the experience would make me a better teacher. St. Bernard's was generous, and after many difficult days of explaining to Melinda how important this trip was to me, I flew to Seattle, alone, in late July 1999. I hiked, camped, and mountain-climbed in the Northern Cascades and rock-climbed in British Columbia. I did this with eight other students and two instructors.
People have asked: "How was the course?" Answering this question is akin to asking a boy how his summer vacation was. The standard answer to this question as provided by NOLS is "We were organized, thorough, and prepared. We took care of ourselves in basic ways. We entrusted people with our lives, learned to do without and persevered at difficult things. We learned to use new tools and we took care of what we had with us. We lived simply." This is all true. I could discuss the close friendships I developed-we had a reunion at my house for the East Coast contingent a little less than a month after the course ended-or the skills I learned or the spectacular views, but all of these descriptions seem trivial. What I feel comfortable expressing is this: my experience with NOLS changed my life.
I lived in the wilderness with no connection to the outside world and understood on an intimate level what I need to survive. The artificial shelters I had created to live in civilization no longer applied. In the wilds theory was constantly being challenged, and instinct and awareness determined the outcome of my actions. My role in daily events was determined by how I responded to each and every circumstance. While trekking across a steep snow-field with seventy pounds on my back I lost my footing. If I had not arrested myself with my ice ax immediately, I could have been seriously injured or worse. The simplicity of this action struck me with absolute clarity.
As a teacher, I have always thought the best education came from experience. Now I know this is true. The experiential education I gained from NOLS has influenced the way I teach. I strive to have every student feel an intimate connection to the subject that I am teaching. Of course, this process is not based on the fear of death, but it entails an element of surprise. A student should feel a constant progression as he carves the steps that lead him to greater understanding. He must trust himself, his peers, and his instructors, so that when he falls, which is inevitable, he will be able to arrest himself, regain his footing, and continue.
I came away from this experience realizing the importance of leadership. Teachers are leaders, and it is our responsibility to be aware and act in a manner that accentuates the best that can be found in every person in every situation.
Peter Beuf is a sixth grade homeroom teacher. He spent part of the summer of 1999 on a NOLS course thanks to St. Bernard's Albert H. Gordon Fund for faculty travel and study.
No. 24, Spring 2000, page 10