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posted by Dust @ 10:41 AM 0 comments

Paper on Using A Cultural Values Lens as a Template for Environmental Planning and Management

Abstract

The Island of Rum stands as a type of “lightning rod” for environmental and conservation issues because of its history, ecology, and contemporary place in Scottish land management. Tensions are illustrated through a mixture of personal observation on the island during a weeklong residency, the Rum Management Plan, and environmental ethics and values texts. Rum is submitted as a potential template for effective ecological education and management decisions, in particular, in its use as a marker of cultural values.



Introduction

The overall aim of managing the island can be summarised as: ‘to conserve and, where appropriate, enhance Rum’s outstanding natural and cultural heritage, whilst providing a demonstration of sustainable land use and facilitating compatible use of the island for study and enjoyment.’ (1998, p. 159).

posted by Dust @ 9:46 AM 0 comments

Paper on Community Building in An Experiential Context

“WhiteWater:"

An Alternative Community Embedded

in Local Suburbia

Dustin Kunkel

Introduction

By nature, this paper may differ substantially from others presented. This is due primarily to my experience as an educator, which allowed me to skip the placement. I will be drawing on my four years as a Director of Youth and Education at Trinity Church in Oregon City, U.S.A., from 2001 to 2005. My role as an “embedded” member amongst a greater community of families, which were themselves “embedded” within the town of Oregon City formed and transformed my goal-setting and practice as an outdoor educator. It was essential that I not only understand my local community and the parents and children whom I was serving, but also the greater cultural movements in the U.S.A. that were pushing and pulling them away from “community.”

This paper will examine the community building processes (primarily amongst 9^th through 12^th grade youth) that I initiated during my time as the Director of Youth and Education, with critical references to pertinent theory and literature in both the social sciences and outdoor education. The outcome will be to present the contributions of this particular approach to OE theory and practice, review some basic questions asked in “community building,” and highlight that there are many (even contradicting) ways Outdoor Education is used to develop community. My writing is fuelled by the belief, like Allison and Telford’s, that “varied practices and conceptions of outdoor education can learn from each other despite the often radically different beliefs and desires regarding the role, purpose and practices of outdoor education” (2005).

Programme Summary

History and Context: Embedded in a Community in the Suburbs of the Western World

When I arrived at Trinity, I was presented with the main job of re-working the high school programme for youth. This had previously involved some kind of weekly meeting, usually in the “youth room” of the building, and a major annual trip of some kind to “have fun” at an amusement park. A small group (about 10 students) had also travelled to Mexico for a week to build a home for homeless people. The expectations seemed to be that I would be the primary person to carry out the face to face encounters with the students, and that parents and other “adult types” would not be involved other than to offer rides or food for events.

My perspective on community was quite different from this. I believed that community must in some way mean a link to the greater web of relationships in which young people are found. As an educator in post-modern society where meta-narratives were disappearing, I was in search of authenticity (Allison, 2000), first for myself, but also for others as well. I did not see my job as “baby sitter for a few hours.” Western culture—and increasingly, world culture--is dominated by “ations:” specialisation, mechanisation, media saturation, and separation of relationships (Gatto, 2003; Herman & Chomsky, 1988; Palmer, 1977). The sociologist, George Ritzer invented a word (rooted in the worldwide restaurant of the same name), “Mcdonaldization,” (2000) that is essentially about a paradigm rather than the restaurant. He claims it is “. . . the process by which the principles of the fast-food restaurant are coming to dominate more and more sectors of the American society as well as the rest of the world” (p. 1).

In 2001, I had not read Ritzer’s book, but I was enthralled with exactly these issues in my work with youth—both indoors and out of doors. I noticed that many of the approaches we (youth workers in general) were using to “educate” youth were fundamentally the same as the ideals used to run fast food restaurants and Disney theme parks. Young people were savvy consumers and we were trying to meet them with a product that they wanted to consume, on an emotional, physical, even spiritual level. To do so required a specialised, fast-food-like approach reminiscent of a highly efficient, technologically “hip” factory. More recently, a number of education writers—both in and outside of OE--have questioned these capitalist-driven or highly specialised approaches to working with young people (Allison & Higgins, 2002; Brookes, 2003a, 2003b, 2003c; Gatto, 2003; Loynes, 2002; Lynch & Moore, 2004; McDonald, 2000; Vokey, 1999) whilst others continue to promote the benefits of applying specialised or technical models to outdoor education (Bell, 2003; Boyes & O’Hare, 2003; Mathur, 2002; Priest & Gass, 1997; Wurdinger & Paxton, 2003). I didn’t like what modernity (or postmodernity) was requiring of “education” amongst young people, and I wanted to do something different. Fundamentally, I believed there was a better way to live than “Mcdonaldised.” I agreed with Gatto that there is a major distinction between being an educated person and being a cog in the modern “schooling” system (2003).

The Family ‘Web’

The first thing I did was take time to listen. Zink points out that OE researchers may not be listening well enough, and recommends that we “explore what is. . . rather than what should be or ought to happen. Taking flippant comments seriously opens space . . . “ (2005). I met with parents, students, and families in a variety of settings. I met with them in their homes, at athletic competitions, in cars as we travelled, at coffee shops, and of course at the church building. During this time of listening, the major question I asked, in a variety of ways, was “Why are we doing youth community building?” I received a variety of answers, and many of them were in line with the research done by the Search Institute. This research focused not only on young people, but their family systems, and I noticed in my conversations that parents and youth were both asking for their relationship “webs” to be strengthened. Search Institute substantiates this:

Finding #1: A majority of the parents we surveyed are going it alone in the vital and challenging task of raising children and teenagers. Most say they don’t often turn to their extended family, friends, and community resources for support in parenting . . .

Finding #2: A key—but often lacking—resource for parents is a strong relationship with their spouse or partner. The parents we interviewed who experience an excellent partner relationship—regardless of whether they are married—are more likely to feel successful and up to the challenges of parenting. Parents with a strong partner relationship were more likely to say they do things to help their kids grow up strong and healthy, feel successful and confident as parents, experience fewer challenges as parents, and be open to other support and learning. Despite the importance of this relationship for parenting success, only half of the parents interviewed (54 percent) said their relationship with their partner was excellent (2002, p. 1)

I realised that if I was going to support healthy community, I would need to move beyond just “working with kids,” and find ways to support their families as well. I received training as a Love and Logic Parenting Class Facilitator, and began a regular series of parenting classes during the rest of my tenure. I noticed another troubling finding in the Search Institute research. Search looked at the discrepancy between what adults thought was important for young people, and what adults actually did. The greatest discrepancy was in the area of conversation: “Have meaningful conversations—Have conversations with kids that help adults and young people ‘really get to know one another’” (2001). Search found a massive divergence between how many adults thought it was important (75%) and how many admitted to doing it (only 34%)—a difference of 41% in their ability to act on what they thought most important. Regardless of the reasons for this, it seemed highly important to grow a community that helped adults and teens have conversations in which they ‘really get to know one another.’

Busy, Busy, Busy

Another critical issue that came to my attention through listening to parents and teens was how busy everyone seemed to be. There was an over-all approach by parents summarized in this statement: “If I keep my child busy, he or she will not have time to ‘get into trouble.’” Whether it was solely this attitude or a combination of this with the fast-food, fast-paced lifestyle and other factors, I found that young people were absolutely “maxed out” -- as they referred to their time. Every part of their day was covered by some kind of activity. This included their weekends as well. Most of them held part-time jobs so they could pay for their cars so they could drive to the places they wanted to go. If they did anything with their little “free time” it often involved getting into those same cars and driving twenty miles to the biggest cinema for a late show. This was a generation of young people who did not know how to simply “be,” nor did they know how to “be together” without the aid of some kind of entertainment or consumption.

WhiteWater: A Picture of Community

The River & Rafts Metaphor

It was during this “listening” time that someone used the river metaphor whilst talking about “the journey of life.” Rivers surround the suburban community in which we lived, and the greater Northwest area is a river-filled region. It was a natural progression to begin to think of building community within a metaphor (or picture, if you will) that rested on a common language we already knew. I knew that another youth director in Colorado, Mike Hinkfoot, had used the same metaphor so I called him for advice. The central theme of the WhiteWater picture was that people traveled down the river in rafts with a “guide,” that the experience was most fun in the “boat” (actually defined as a “carload of kids”) and not under the water, that there was a sense of “traveling together.” Like Loynes in his description of ethics emerging through contextual interaction, we found it best to “treat each voice as having equal but not necessarily the same value” (2003). Young people caught the idea quickly, as they became engaged in where we were going -- and why we were going there together. They recognised they had friends “in the water” who needed to be “in the boat” where they could catch their breath. The adult “guides” found a space where their life experience and listening skills were important and needed.

We began to meet once a week, sometimes more. Over a period of three years I saw prevailing changes. I saw young people who did not know how to hold a conversation, doing it every Sunday evening in their “raft.” I saw adults who didn’t think they had anything to offer, enthusiastic about students. I saw people “being people to one another” in a caring and respectful atmosphere. I saw young people beginning to explore their questions in groups that were confidential and caring, challenging yet “safe.” All of these findings fall in line with Vanier’s approach to community amongst youth:

Young people need help in order to integrate the vision into their own hearts and minds and to develop their own inner freedom and choices, learning little by little to be led inwardly by love, rather than from the outside, by rigid laws. They must be led to true community where they can become men and women of prayer and compassion, open to others and to the world, particularly to the poor, the oppressed, the lost, and the vulnerable, and thus become artisans of peace (1989, p. 5).

Artisans of Peace

Any time you make choices in group relationships and community building, there are other choices that are disregarded. By choosing to focus on the development of relationships through small groups led by caring adults, we did not have time for other things. We didn’t do much entertainment, but instead, we played together. We didn’t watch many films or play Xbox, but we did talk about films and Xbox, and their impact on our lives. One other important part of WhiteWater was the service orientation: we would serve monthly in our local community, and at least once a year participate in an extended “service trip” with a singular motive: “do everything in your power to serve and encourage every community you enter.” Vanier’s vision was our goal: Artisans of Peace -- artisans are skilled and creative, self-motivated and forward-looking. Artisans are what we all wish to be on some level in our lives.

Expecting God to Show Up

Christian spirituality is found inside the attitude of Jesus, whom Christians believe is the tangible presence of a real God. In fact, Jesus’ purpose was to bring all creation and people into the relationship he shares with the Father and Spirit. By tying relationship with God to the concept of community Jesus brought theophany (the appearance of God) into the center of the rugged, daily relationships between people. He said, “In as much as you do it to the least of these, you’ve done it unto me.” In WhiteWater, we began to expect God’s presence, not in some display of blinding light, but in the day-to-day conversations and presence of the people with whom we traveled. Vanier calls this “the freedom to love and receive love” (1989).

Chile and Simpson regard biological rationalism as unable to answer fundamental community development problems. Instead, they point out, “the connection between spirituality and community development is the fire of social justice that brings about radical transformation of structures of society . . .” (2004). They admit that community development and spirituality are different paradigms, but agree that both focus on things that unite and bind society together, whereas biological rationalism, at best, simply affirms some people are more able to “get along” than others.

Not Therapy

Furedi points out that “therapeutic culture is not so much the promotion but the distancing of the self from others . . .[it] both reflects and promotes the trend towards fragmentation and alienation. . . it does so by systematically stigmatizing informal relations of dependence” (2004, p. 21). This diagnosis of western culture is helpful in recognizing what we were not doing via WhiteWater: We were not conducting therapy, in any sense of the word. We were simply getting caring older people together with younger people to serve, talk, and travel through life together. This seems radically different than some of the current claims for OE’s use as a therapeutic tool (Berman & Davis-Berman, 2002; Pryor, Carpenter, & Townsend, 2005; Stolz, 2000). These claims, although helpful in particular situations, may not make a broad foundation for OE’s future if we give Furedi’s claims any validity. By focusing instead on the simplicity of “being together,” we began to experience freedom from needing to consume things to receive pleasure. If young people “worked through their problems” (the claims of therapy), this occurred as a byproduct.

Core Values

Our core values included the following list, and emerged through conversations as a group about what we considered most important (what we were not willing to compromise): spiritual, confidential, accountable, friendly, “safe” or “refuge-like”, able to say anything without fear of “judging”, small groups, interactive, trained raft guides, listening and acceptance, and multiple generations. The core value of having “trained raft guides” meant that we set up a regular schedule of training events, attended outside training events for youth leaders together, and met after or before every group event to attend to practical application of our core values. I also set up an interview process and background check that was part of the application to become a guide. Young people were expected to take on responsibilities in the groups, emerging as leaders in their own right.

The Indoors/Outdoors Dichotomy

An interesting development in my understanding of community was that the indoors/outdoors dichotomy disappeared. Students and guides began to practice care not only for one another, but care for the spaces we inhabited—indoors and out of doors. None of this was a sudden massive shift. There were many exceptions to this rule, because we were an inclusive community that welcomed every young person who showed up – regardless of behavior or attitude. This made for a messy journey together. However, the overall growth of the group was towards a more caring approach towards people and places. Partly due to this, my concept of indoors and outdoors as separate entities underwent a radical shift. I began to think of others and myself as people on journeys that took place primarily out of doors, but not exclusively. We needed shelter from time to time, and places where we could be comfortable, but I found the concept of “shelter” very different from the concept of the “indoors” and “outdoors.”

Lynch and Moore (2004) consider the paradox of adventure education: the “industry” of personal development and/or ecology rooted in a capitalistic paradigm that includes domination, competition, and conquering nature as part of its core pursuits. They find it interesting many outdoor educators do not wrestle with the issues that arise from this history. In my case, it could be said that when we were outside we did not plan for competition, on any level. We did not climb mountains or raft rivers to conquer them. We went there to leave the city behind, and learn to “be” without consuming, to “be together” without artificial entertainment prosthetics attached to our conversation. In addition, we went there to engage in a communal activity with nature, herself.

The “Us” and “Them” Dichotomy

One of the fundamental sticking points in community is the inevitable human desire to define the community with a line drawn between “us” and “everyone else who isn’t us.” We certainly found this to be true in WhiteWater as well. However, we found the metaphor, itself, became a helpful tool in developing inclusion ideals. The main idea went something like this: “you wouldn’t just sit and watch anyone float by in the river towards the crashing waves of a big rapid if you were in a boat and had room for them, would you?” This picture allowed young people to begin to recognize inclusion as a vital passion for helping others feel “safe.” In welcoming others, they were participating in something bigger than themselves. To return to the central importance of the Vanier quote, they were becoming “ . . . men and women of prayer and compassion, open to others and to the world, particularly to the poor, the oppressed, the lost, and the vulnerable . . . ” (ibid).

Teaching and Learning Processes: Engaging Points of View

Both teaching and learning occurred “in the midst” of everything else we were doing, rather than as a particular programme. As guides built relationships, and opened their hearts to young people, they also began to open their lives. Students would get help on their cars from adults, help with homework, help with interpersonal issues. Undergirding all of this “help” was the deeper core of WhiteWater, a community of people sharing points of view. This need for being in community in order to listen and be listened to, to develop meanings based on the interactions between people and the interactions we have with objects has been delineated by researchers and theorists from a variety of disciplines including expeditions in the outdoors, scientific philosophy, sociology, education, and spirituality (Bacon, 1983; Blumer, 1962; Gatto, 2003; Goffman, 1997; Mead, 1934; Polanyi & Prosch, 1975; Vanier, 1989). A strength of the WhiteWater metaphor, then, was its simplicity and “space,” its ability to give young people a chance to “try on” different perceptions of themselves and what they considered “real.” Maybe even a chance to see themselves the way God supposedly viewed them. It was a chance to step away from treadmill lives and walk an alternative path with others, developing understandings of meaning, beliefs, and values on the way.

Research, Theory, and Practice: Key Connections

Embattled theories

In Beame’s research on young adults working as volunteers in Africa with Raleigh International, he rests his analysis on Blumer’s symbolic interactionism, noting that “peoples’ thoughts and behaviours are influenced by those around them, in a constant dynamic relationship that shapes who they are” (2005; Blumer, 1962). He points out that community functions as the mirror by which we continually interpret other’s perceptions of us, and utilise that interpretation power to develop identity. This might be construed to be at odds with social capital theory, a major theoretical stream that frames social science and education research (Coleman, 1997; Stoddart, 2004).

It is certainly simpler to give each social interaction a corresponding numeracy, placing it within the existing western-dominated paradigm for growth -- a criticism of social capital theory. Indeed, social capital studies may miss key understandings about human interaction, since they are based on an underlying notion of reciprocity – that people engage in actions expecting them to be reciprocated at some point in the future (Bourdieu, 1997). Although a generally coherent assertion, there are still too many exceptions and explanations that invalidate its claims as overarching social theory. Stoddart claims that social capital “involves the existence of social networks which empower individuals in communities to gain access to different opportunities” (2004). Again, a question arises: is there more to social interactions than ‘access to different opportunities?’ It might be suggested that reciprocity misinterprets the actual nature of human interaction by giving us a convenient monetary handle for the multiple and potentially immeasurable levels of human society.

Subtexts

Another realm for critical exploration is subtexts that occur within OE literature. Some writer/s purposefully use data to substantiate pre-existing notions of community. (I am certainly not free from this bias.) Underneath the assertions, interesting contradictions appear. For example, the role of social capital in Stoddart’s study narrows her research, making it manageable, yet potentially limits her own abilities to interpret her findings. By focusing on “social exclusion” she does not account for the young peoples’ family systems or situation-specific behaviour that may be occurring only within the OE context. A greater irony is that she did not follow any students who dropped out of the programme, further undermining her analysis of “social exclusion” issues in the greater Cumbrian community. It might be instructive to know what those students think, and why they are not involved.

In other literature, Berman and Davis-Berman make claims for a “comprehensive model” for crisis management in a wilderness setting and “hope that many of its elements can be applied cross-culturally” (2002). Yet, they submit an approach that rests on American cultural norms of voice, expression, body language, and so on. This, of course, is the antithesis of cultural relevance -- people communicate, interpret, and think differently depending on their background and language (Hofstede, 2001). Boyes and O’Hare present a “model for outdoor adventure decision-making” using a mechanistic flowchart model (2003). Among other projects, O’Hare is presently conducting research for NASA on pilot decisions and training for its safety programme (University of Otago, 2000). While it is critical to have interdisciplinary approaches to OE, it is appropriate to question what theoretical models actually fit in the development of leadership or healthy community. Granted, these are highly specific studies that might be helpful if read cautiously. Yet, the subtexts and over-reaching claims stretch theoretical frameworks to the snapping point.

It might be suggested that a good place to start new research is not in more studies on contested outcomes, nor on theoretically-slanted projects, but rather community-based education projects embedded in local relationships among a particular group of people. With the world developing greater diversity of community based on non-geographic connections (internet groups, myspace, global corporate communities, etc.) a potential strength of OE might be its local embeddedness.

Conclusion: Red Flags – And a White One

An issue not addressed adequately in present OE theory and research is that OE seems “caught between a rock and a hard place” when it comes to community building: on one hand we act like we’re the experts at changing lives, on the other hand, we continue to remove youth and adults from their home communities for experiences and often don’t follow them back to those communities. We are faced with a problem: are we “experts at changing lives” if we’re doing this kind of work in one or two week increments with different groups of people, and then rarely see them again? It might be helpful to make a clearer distinction about our expertise: we are often builders of short-term communities that do not last. The “expert” part is also arguable, particularly due to the ambiguities of “professionalism” that haunt our particular sector (class discussion, professional practice, 2006).

A second “red flag” facing “community building in OE” at large is the preponderance of research focusing on outcomes, lending validity to the suggestion that some outdoor educators are trying to bolster the credibility of the work we do by claiming it really does make a difference. The issues that arise include investigator bias; scientific, methodological, and logic haziness; and a problem-solving approach that keeps itself “in the box” via methods that close off other avenues of inquiry and/or thought (Brookes, 2004d; Zink, 2005). There remains little research that follows young people home for any extended amount of time -- excepting Martin and Leberman (2005), who suggest it is the activities rather than instructors who are remembered post-course. So much, instructors, for any sense of worth. We may continue on course indefinitely, measuring situational responses, coloured rather vividly by our short-term “community building” (Brookes 2003a, 2003b, 2003c).

One suggestion this paper makes is that an Outdoor Education community need not be separated from its greater web of relationships. What if we raised a white flag and “made peace” with the local communities from which we extract young people? What if Outdoor Education embraced its strength of place, whilst rejecting commodification? In a transient global community, OE could offer localised, embedded communities centred in “place.” It might mean that practitioners take small steps away from providing OE like fast food and start considering how to cook a good OE meal that lasts longer than a week. Without a doubt, WhiteWater had its share of “warts,” because people are messier than machines or computers. But people can become artisans, and machines and computers . . . . Cannot. My experience with this particular approach is that it was one of the more humane ways to be community together.

References

Allison, P. (2000). Authenticity and outdoor education. In P. Barnes (Ed.), Values and outdoor learning: a collection of papers reflecting some contemporary thinking. (pp. 43-49). Cumbria: A.O.L.

Allison, P. & Higgins, P. (2002). Ethical adventures: can we justify overseas youth expeditions in the name of education? Australian Journal of Outdoor Education, 6(2), 22-26.

Allison, P. & Telford, J. (2005). Turbulent times: outdoor education in Great Britain, 1993 – 2003, Australian Journal of Outdoor Education, 9(2), 21-30.

Bacon, S. (1983). The conscious use of metaphor in outward bound. Denver, CO: Colorado Outward Bound School.

Beames, S. (2005). Expeditions and the social construction of the self. Australian Journal of Outdoor Education, 9(1), 14-22.

Bell, B. (2003). The rites of passage and outdoor education: critical concerns for effective programming. The Journal of Experiential Education, 26 (1), 41-50.

Berman, D. & Davis-Berman, J. (2002). An integrated approach to crisis management in wilderness settings. Journal of Adventure Education and Outdoor Learning, 2(1), 9-17.

Blumer, H. (1962). Society as symbolic interaction. In A.M. Rose (Ed.), Human behaviour and social processes: An interactionist approach (pp. 177-190). London: Routledge & Kegan Paul.

Bourdieu, P. (1997). The forms of capital. In AlH. Halsey, H. Launder, P. Brown and A. Stuart Wells (Eds.), Education, culture, economy and society (pp. 46-58). Oxford: Oxford U.P.

Boyes, M.A. & O’Hare, D. (2003). Between safety and risk: a model for outdoor adventure decision making. Journal of Adventure Education and Outdoor Learning, 3 (1), 63-75.

Brookes, A. (2003a). A critique of neo-hahnian outdoor education theory. Part one: challenges to the concept of “character building.” Journal of Adventure Education and Outdoor Learning, 3 (1), 49-62.

Brookes, A. (2003b). A critique of new-hahnian outdoor education theory. Part two: “the fundamental attribution error” in contemporary outdoor education discourse. Journal of Adventure Education and Outdoor Learning, 3 (2), 119-132.

Brookes, A. (2003c). Adventure programming and the fundamental attribution error: a critique of
neo-hahnian outdoor education theory. In B. Humberstone, H. Brown, & K. Richards (Eds.), Whose journeys? The outdoors and adventure as social and cultural phenomena (pp. 403-423). Barrow-in-Furness, UK: I.O.L.

Brookes, A. (2004d). Astride a long-dead horse: mainstream outdoor education theory and the central curriculum problem. Australian Journal of Outdoor Education, 8(2), 22-33.

Chile, L.M., & Simpson, G. (2004). Spirituality and community development: exploring the link between the individual and the collective. Community Development Journal, 39, (4), 318-331.

Coleman, J. (1997). Social capital in the creation of human capital. In A.H. Halsey, H. Launder, P. Brown & A.S. Wells (Eds.), Education, culture, economy, society. Oxford: Oxford U.P., 80-95.

Furedi, F. (2004). Therapy Culture. London: Routledge.

Gatto, J.T. (2003). The underground history of American education: an intimate investigation into the prison of modern schooling, revised edition. New York: The Oxford Village Press.

Goffman, E. (1997). The goffman reader (Charles Lemert & Ann Branaman, Eds.). Oxford, UK: Blackwell.

Herman, E.S. & Chomsky, N. (1988). Manufacturing Consent. New York: Pantheon Books.

Hofstede, G. (2001). Culture’s Consequences: comparing values, behaviors, institutions, and organizations across nations, 2^nd Edition. London: Sage Publications.

Leberman, S.I., & Martin, A.J. (2004). Enhancing transfer of learning through post-course reflection. Journal of Adventure Education and Outdoor Learning, 4(2), 173-184.

Loynes, C. (2002). The generative paradigm. Journal of Adventure Education and Outdoor Learning, 2 (2), 113-125.

Loynes, C. (2003). Exploring metaphors, semiotics and symbols in outdoor adventure pedagogy: a reflection on method. In B. Humberstone, H. Brown, & K. Richards (Eds.), Whose journeys? The outdoors and adventure as social and cultural phenomena (pp. 297-308). Barrow-in-Furness, UK: I.O.L.

Lynch, P. & Moore, K. (2004). Adventures in paradox. Australian Journal of Outdoor Education, 8(2), 3-12.

Mathur, A. (2002). A response to the generative paradigm. Journal of Adventure Education and Outdoor Learning, 2(2), 127-130.

McDonald, P. (2000). Issues of Progress: trends in the training of outdoor leaders. Dunedin, New Zealand: PDF Pete McDonald.

Mead, G.H. (1934). Mind, self, and society: From the standpoint of a social behaviorist. London: University of Chicago Press.

Palmer, P.J. (1977). A place called community. Philadelphia, USA: Pendle Hall.

Polanyi, M. & Prosch, H. (1975). Meaning. London: University of Chicago Press.

Priest, S., & Gass, M. (1997). Effective leadership in adventure programming. Ilinois, U.S.A.: Human Kinetics.

Pryor, A., Carpenter, C., & Townsend, M. (2005). Outdoor education and bush adventure therapy: a socio-ecological approach to health and wellbeing. Australian Journal of Outdoor Education, 9(1) 3-13.

Ritzer, G. (2000). The mcdonaldization of society. London, UK: Sage Publications.

Search Institute (2002). Building Strong Families Fact Sheet: A Preliminary Study from YMCA/Search Institute on What Parents Need to Succeed. Retrieved April 11, 2006 from

http://www.abundantassets.org.

Search Institute (2001). Grading Grown-Ups: American Adults Report on Their Real Relationships with Kids. Retrieved April 11, 2006 from http://www.search-institute.org.

Stoddart, F. (2004). Developing social capital through outdoor education in Cumbria: a case study. In Connections and disconnections: Examining the reality and rhetoric, Proceedings of the 2^nd Outdoor Education International Research Conference, La Trobe University, Bendigo, July, 2004. Accessible online at: http://www.latrobe.edu.au/oent/OE_conference_2004/2004_conference_papers.html.

Stolz, P. (2000). The power to change through the change to power: narrative therapy, power and the wilderness enhanced model. Australian Journal of Outdoor Education, 4 (2), 4-9.

University of Otago. (2000). Otago researchers to assist NASA in pilot training. Retrieved March 26, 2005, from http://www.otago.ac.nz/news/news/2000/01-03-00_press_release.html

Vanier, J. (1989). Community and Growth, revised edition. (Jean Vanier, trans.). Mahwah, NJ: Paulist Press. (Original work published 1979)

Vokey, D. (1999). Is it possible to justify a “value-laden” position for ecologically-based adventure education? No. In S.D. Wurdinger & T.G. Potter (Eds.), Controversial issues in adventure education: A critical examination (pp.237-243). Dubuque, Iowa: Kendall Hunt.

Wurdinger, S., & Paxton, T. (2003). Using multiple levels of experience to promote autonomy in adventure education students. Journal of Adventure Education and Outdoor Learning, 3 (1), 41-48.

Zink, R. (2005). Maybe what they say is what they experience: taking students words seriously. Australian Journal of Outdoor Education, 9 (2), 14-20.

posted by Dust @ 2:25 PM 0 comments

Paper on Teaching and Learning In An Experiential Context

The Socratic Educative Posture and Naturalistic Decision-Making
in Novice Fly-fishing Skill Acquisition
Dustin Kunkel

“What is the use of perfect technique drilled to perfection if the wrong decision is made?”

Introduction

This paper, by assignment, follows a rather different path than a typical academic paper. We were directed by the instructor to limit discussion of technical details of the sport, instead focusing on “skill acquisition and learning theory.” Since the goal is to highlight both theory and methodology in teaching a particular skill experientially, a thesis statement would overly simplify the required assignment. Instead, I develop a framework that presupposes vast openness to coaching in a dynamic environment—no matter the skill. It is also critical to note there are divergent developments in research and attendant theory-modification particularly since 1985 (Mack, Huddleston, Dutler, & Mintah, 2000, introduction section, para. 2). As such, I utilize recent research almost exclusively.

With this notion of developing a conceptual framework rather than a thesis, I begin with assumptions on my part regarding the role of coach and learner; discuss my coaching style; reference relevant definitions of “skill;” explore theory and relevant research; and close with an application of my philosophy to coaching a particular skill.

The “Specific Outdoor Activity Example”

Four physically healthy boys (able to hike 10 miles with a 40 lb rucksack), between the ages of 14 and 16, accompanied by four male mentors from their community (any adult male who spends weekly time with the boy) will accompany me on a 5-day summer trip to learn how to fly fish mountain lakes in the Idaho wilderness. We will backpack approximately 10 miles in to a base camp at 7000 feet within three miles of five small alpine lakes (all of which hold trout). I chose fly-fishing because I know it well, it is a skill that requires a deep awareness of the environment, and is a highly complex skill to acquire.

Assumptions

As per the assignment notes, it is particularly useful to assume “motivated” individuals in an “ideal environment.” This is because learner motivation leads to learner-designed goals and actions (S. Banks, personal communication/lecture, October 20, 2005). I also assume that good coaching requires accepting the individual is from a particular social and cultural context, and Outdoor Education (OE) often extracts the learner from that context (Brookes, 2003a,b). By involving mentors, I assume the situational learning will be ‘carried home’ more effectively due to the relationships involved: “to maintain those changes depends on maintaining, or at least periodically returning to, the changed circumstances” (Brookes, 2003c, p. 420). By so doing, my philosophy rejects dispositionist grandiose notions of my “leader” role—i.e. being a “character architect” rather than one of many helpers in the learner’s life.

Although I disagree with some applications of the “family metaphor” in Islands of Healing, (Schoel, et al, 1998, pp. 96-98) especially regarding groups that are “extracted” for a day, I believe it is helpful to assume the “family metaphor” has value in this situation because the boys are accompanied by mentors and/or fathers. Thus, in this case, “agreement to work together as a group and to work toward individual and group goals” (p. 96) provides the foundation for the experiential learning to take place in a situationist and social interactionist perspective—“it is people who actually create society” (Pike, 1996, p. 381).

Coaching Style

With the previous assumptions supporting my coaching, a primary goal that frames all decisions I make as coach is this: learning a skill is not for a week, but for a life. Furthermore, I see no reason to improve upon using “an indirect teaching approach that encourages exploration” (Gallahue, Werner, & Luedke, 1975, p. 16) despite it being formulated as “the first level of the learning hierarchy” for young children (Gallahue, et al, p. 16). Rink points out,
. . . indirect instruction strategies usually are most often intended to involve the learner [no matter what age] in the process of creating rather than duplicating the response identified and communicated by the teacher . . . (1999, p. 151) . . .there is no single theory of learning that would explain learning or the lack of it in all situations, and therefore, there can be no single approach to instruction . . . (p. 163)

My form of indirect instruction rests philosophically upon what Manheimer calls the “Socratic educative posture” as defined by Kierkegaard (1977, p. 5). This “posture” refuses to develop a systematic methodology or expect resolution. It recants any control over the learner and instead seeks “learning space” through ironical juxtapositions of concepts, relying on the learner to wrestle with his or her own existence and learning.

If indirect instruction is one side of the coin (coach-centred), then the other side is the concept of “motivation” (learner-centred): since “pupils do not all define success in the same way” (Biddle, 1999, p. 112), it is essential to identify what “success” is to each one, and consequently, arrive at an understanding of their motivations. Granted, this is can be a long and painful trek, but the Kierkegaardian Socratic educative posture allows the coach to listen and “ask the hard questions” without entering prescriptive methodology. This, in turn, provokes more opportunities for the learner to turn inward and discover his or her motivations.

Deci and Ryan (1985) render motivation down to three key psychological needs: competence, autonomy, and relatedness. Biddle connects “relatedness” to “strivings to relate to, and care for, others; to feel that others can relate to oneself” (1999, p. 119). Thus, motivation never stands alone, but requires the presence of others; hence, my inclusion of mentors in the skill-building process. At this point, the coach faces an inherent contradiction, which is often glossed over or “solved” by simplistic methodologies: recanting control whilst hoping mentors and learners grow not only in the skill but also in their life-long coaching of one another (primary objective at the beginning of this section). However, the Kierkegaardian Socratic posture provides a helpful perspective—the educator “hovers over” the existential problem without reducing the complexities of the contradictions, nor the potentials for learning. Secondly, by taking a stance as the least effectual of the mentors (after all, the others will remain with their mentees long after I am gone) I empower them to explore not only skill and decision-making, but also the development of interpersonal skills.

In summary, my coaching style falls within a style continuum defined in our lectures: “guided discovery” for early novitiates—i.e. using “a broad, question-based approach to help the learners arrive at the agenda without knowing it;” but moving as rapidly as possible towards “the coach as resource”—i.e., “the ‘library’ or the more competent observer or analyst” (S. Banks, personal communication/lecture notes, October 20, 2005).


Key Definition: “Skill”

We return to the phrase quoted at the top of this paper. Stated conversely—making the right decision outweighs “perfect” technique. It is essential, then, to identify the connection between decision-making and technique: “skill is a person’s ability to consistently select, organise and execute actions which are appropriate to a given situation” (Hardy & Fazey [class handout], 2005, p. 3). Stated more succinctly by the lecturer, “skill is the appropriate application of technique” (personal communication/lecture, October 20, 2005). In their discussion of kayaking, Higgins and Morgan recognise that “the ‘open’ nature of kayaking dictates that each time a skill is used it is unique” (p. 4) which also explains the use of skill in fly fishing, a highly complex art in a dynamic environment. Higgins and Morgan go on to explain that “we believe that . . . more particularly the teaching of it should be based on it’s real use” (p. 4). In other words, practicing technical competencies away from the environment in which the skill is used is counterproductive to long-term learning of that skill which is the appropriate application of the technique.


Theory and Relevant Research That Frame My Instruction Style

Until the last 20 years, skill-teaching has been built on theoretical models of the computer/servo, the reduction of errors within a defined system, and/or the hierarchical organization of behaviour (Summers, 2004). Although there are now many attested fallacies regarding these theories, it is the application to the actual task of coaching which I find of interest: basing human learning on computers and servos can easily cause a reductionist coaching perspective which does not account for the dynamics of the human consciousness. A hierarchical model can lend itself to hierarchical teaching methods—Teacher inputs, learner receives passively.

The extensive use of laboratory research “that emphasized carefully controlled laboratory experiments involving simple ‘novel’ tasks” has also influenced skill acquisition theory and methodology until the last twenty years (Summers, 2004, p. 12). Recently, researchers have begun to question this experimental methodology for its reductionism, and develop new “multi-dimensional and nonlinear” theories (Mack, Huddleston, Dutler & Mintah, 2000, introduction, para. 3): “the ecological approach sees skill as an emergent consequence . . . “ (Summers, 2004, p. 15).

The ecological approach to skill-acquisition has opened up new areas of research in the study of expert-novice differences and “how the knowledge and strategies exhibited by experts are acquired” (p. 13). At this point, skill-acquisition has critical confluence with another body of research known as decision theory, undergoing a similar paradigm shift. “Classical decision theory” based on reductionism and laboratory experiments is giving way to “naturalistic decision theory” (NDT) which highlights expert decision-making in a natural environment (Orasanu & Connolly, 1995). Some particular insights from NDT research include these:

1. Experts are distinguished from novices mainly by their situation assessment abilities, not their general reasoning skills, and by the fact that they generate and evaluate a single option based on knowledge and experience rather than analyzing multiple options concurrently.

2. Reasoning is schema-driven rather than a computational algorithm. . . people create causal models of the situation.

3. There is a decision cycle which reflects the incomplete knowledge, dynamically changing conditions, and competing goal structures rather than segregating reasoning and acting (Orasanu & Connolly, 1995, pp. 19-20).

My coaching approach merges ecological skill-acquisition, NDT, and the Kierkegaardian Socratic educative posture. I find that by framing a skill session with the assumption that the learner can approach skilfulness through naturalistic decision-making, I support the learner in the move away from problematic focus on technical details. We enter a realm of focus conducive to “the appropriate application of technique.” This does not mean technique is null. Rather, technique becomes an outcome of making appropriate decisions in a natural environment.

Within NDT, the status of “expert” in the mind of the learner is critical: if “we see performance as a broad based continuum with phases that have certain identifying behaviours, not isolated points, the issue of who exactly is or is not an expert is of relatively little concern. It is more important for us to understand where an athlete fits along this continuum of behaviours” (Starkes, Cullen, & MacMahon, 2004, p. 266). At first, this seems contradictory. However, it might be more helpful to use the terms “expertise” or “experts” to denote a set of attitudes and behaviours on one end of the NDT spectrum, rather than a single individual. For example, experts are “superior in using predictive information (i.e. advance visual cues) to guide their anticipatory responses” (Savelsbergh, van der Kamp, Oudejans, & Scott, 2004, p. 374). At this point, decision-making and focus of attention begin to interweave: “the education of attention is the process of learning which sources of information to attend to in which situation and when to attend to these variables” (Savelsbergh, et al, 2004, p. 380).

“Expert use of predictive information” raises another key coaching concept, the emphasis upon tactics (whilst, at least initially, reducing emphasis on mental/emotional, technical, and physical factors). Since tactics--as opposed to goals--are environment and situation-specific, coaching “tactics first” helps in these ways:

1. It allows the learner to associate physical, mental/emotional, and technical factors within a broader framework of real-time choices and environment-specific predictions.

2. Tactics can be likened to the “foundation” of learning. Once the foundation is built well, then the other parts of the house go up easily—the mental, emotional, physical and technical sides.

3. Tactics are an easy way to jump-start learner-initiated questions. Tactical questioning is like a massive hall with a 1000 doors that open into a 1000 rooms with 1000 more doors, and so on.
4. Learning tactics in the initial acquisition of the skill might be intrinsically linked to ongoing learner motivation (although there remains little research to substantiate this hypothesis, since the realm of inquiry is young).


The Trip as Naturalistic Library

Since I have framed my coaching philosophy as a “posture” rather than methodology, it follows that the trip, itself, will be open to serendipity and multiple perspectives. Recent research in spatial reasoning suggests people use imagination to build inference capacities through “multiple views” in a location (Newcombe & Huttenlocher, 2000, p. 109). Gatto draws a clear distinction between what students are trained to do in school and what learners are expected to do in a library. He suggests libraries are the ultimate learning climate for the motivated learner (2003, p. 51)--the expectations are high, but simple.

There is certainly no way to pack an entire building up a mountain, but the concept, itself, travels:

People.

This includes two friends of mine: one an expert fly fisherman with local knowledge of the area, and the other a geology teacher. During the drive and the hike to the base camp, these “teachers” will share what they know. They will then remain nearby through the duration. Prior to the trip, students would watch at least two DVDs with their mentors of fly fishing experiences (not “teaching” DVDs) to initiate the “expertise continuum.” It should also be noted that the “family metaphor” is discussed on the trip to the trailhead as a means for the group to identify common goals, attitudes, and behaviours.

Gear (not including basics for hiking/camping in the wild).

Snorkelling gear for going under the water to view the environment, sieves for collecting underwater specimens, magnifying glasses, binoculars, geology books specific to the area, digital video camera with a large view screen for playback (extra batteries), rod-reel-line-leader-fly combo for each learner and each mentor (one set of “cheap” rods, one set of superior rods), ½ sheets of paper with a hole punched in one corner and snap-rings to create journal pages.

Some pages will contain information in bullet form prepared by myself and the other leaders specific to the tactical and contextual information we share: i.e., geological formations, formation of mountain lakes, types of trout and their feeding patterns, insects, the “hard look” in fly casting, explanations of my coaching paradigm, description of NDT theory, etc. These pages will not be shared in a “lecture format” but simply placed at the disposal of the learners.

A note on the fishing gear: utilising a “performer constraint” approach (Araujo, Davids, Bennett, Button, & Chapman, 2004) by allowing novices to try inferior and superior gear can aid long-term skill acquisition. Cheap fly rods do everything expensive ones do, without the extra sensitivity and/or casting ability. This allows them to recognize the differences between “sensitive” and “spongy” rods. It positions the learner within the expertise continuum, highlighting skill-acquisition compared to an inferior tool.

The educative posture

Once we arrive on site, we immediately begin with what Vickers, et al, call “hard first instruction:” “. . . decision training . . . introduces the athletes to the complex knowledge they need. . . as soon as possible” (2004, p. 113). This means setting up the gear for the learners and sending them out with their mentors for the rest of the day to fish, with group consensus on “check back times.”

The “hard first instruction” goes hand in hand with the “hard look” principle (Banks, 1997)—the only tactical principle I will share with the learners on the first day during check back. The concept, applied in kayaking, is that by focusing attention on exactly where they want to go—i.e., the “hard look—learners gain proprioceptive knowledge of technique without regressing to a dependence upon internal cues. The “hard look” keeps them tactically focused on their environment, and technique follows.

Though there is little research to validate this approach specifically to fly-fishing, there is enough in similar complex skills to warrant the hypothesis.

Janelle, Duley, and Coombes suggest, “most would agree that the successful acquisition of motor skills is reliant upon the refinement of attention-related skills” (2004, p. 283). More specifically: “a stronger contention would be that motor skill learning . . . occurs because of attentional skill development” (p. 299). My own experience in learning fly-fishing was exactly this. In times of decision duress--as Banks also relates in kayaking--I “regress” to this first principle rather than thinking about what my arms or feet are doing. The fly lands where I want it to land, because that is the first thing I learned to pay attention to.

A perception that “indirect learning” and the Socratic educative posture is not hard work would be very misleading. Since the learner is motivated and the coach is motivated, activity continues for extended periods of time. As Lee and Simon mention, “. . . there are few, if any, exceptions to the law of practice [makes perfect]” (2004, p. 29). When connected with a contextual interference perspective, this means that learners will immerse themselves in learning by stretching and “re-loading” their working memories (Lee & Simon, p. 36) through multiple sessions in multiple environs. This includes but is not limited to: utilising the “library” of people, gear, and resources; moving from lake to lake in the area; fishing around individual lakes; going underwater; hiking the area; talking by the fire at night; and coaching one another as they move from place to place.

My primary coaching goal is met from discussions that arise, without resorting to an outcome-based approach: mentors and learners develop emergent coaching and fishing skills of their own, to carry on learning long after I am gone. A final note: the digital video camera becomes a tool used as an “impartial observer” to aid one another in analysis of NDT, tactics, and coaching skill development (Sanders, 2004, p. 162; Araujo, et al, 2004, p. 427). Notice the lack of focus on technique. I would start and end each day recording, watching, and discussing the most experienced fly fishermen in the group, if that were considered helpful by those involved.


The “aha” moment.

“From the research so far, it seems that motor skills that require spatial-temporal coordination or consist of relatively complex motor components . . . might be best characterized by this all-or-none learning process . . .the challenge for the coach . . . is then to find ways of bringing about these seemingly sudden changes or insights” (Dickinson, Weeks, Randall, & Goodman, 2004, p. 81). Although I recognise the existence of “aha” moments, my view differs with “the challenge for the coach” raised by Dickinson, et al: As an educator and coach, I do not “find ways” to bring about learning, but instead, promote and provoke a library of learning that students find helpful in their desire to learn.



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