Through a Wilderness

Story by Rhonda Barton/ Photos by Patricia Cordell

"The clearest way into the universe is through a forest wilderness."—John Muir

The nation's longest-running Outdoor School opens eyes and minds through experiential learning in a magical setting.

WEMME, Oregon—The stillness of the Mt. Hood National Forest is broken by birdsong and the distant rise and fall of children's voices. As you thread your way through old growth Douglas fir, your footsteps muffled by the thick carpet of decomposing leaves, you're as likely to chance upon a skittish fawn as a knot of squirrelly sixth-graders. Scurrying like termites over a rotted stump, the boys and girls might be dipping into a fast-flowing stream for water samples, gathering spores, or peering underfoot for bear scat.

Just as Oregon students have been doing for almost 40 years, these elementary and middle schoolers are repeating a ritual that takes place every fall and spring: spending six days camping in rustic cabins; learning firsthand about animal and plant life, rivers and forest ecosystems; and making self-discoveries along the way.

Surviving Hard Times

Founded in 1965 with a federal grant, Multnomah Educational Service District's Outdoor School has survived on local and state tax dollars and sheer determination. When the financially hard-pressed Portland Public Schools decided to cut Outdoor School from its spring 2003 curriculum—threatening the whole program—volunteers went into overdrive. In six weeks, former campers and parents of current ones raised a half-million dollars to restore the session. The following fall, Multnomah County voters approved a temporary income tax that filled school district coffers and granted Outdoor School another reprieve—at least until June 2006.

A newly revitalized nonprofit group, Friends of Outdoor School, is working to secure future funding from foundations, corporations, and private donors. In the meantime, though, far from the hubbub of ESD offices, the traditions of Outdoor School continue to be handed down to a new generation of campers.

Leaving Behind the Familiar

The yellow buses pull into Arrah Wanna on Sunday, one of five camp facilities that the ESD leases from religious and service organizations. Kids from eight different school districts—many of whom have never been away from their families or even their neighborhoods—tumble out into a totally different world than the one they left behind.

For the next six days they'll follow a strictly structured schedule that starts with a 6:45 a.m. wake-up call and goes full tilt until the embers of the nightly campfire die out and lights are snapped off at 9:15 p.m. There are no televisions, computers, Game Boys, or CD players to distract these preteens and disturb the tranquillity of the forest. The four walls of the classroom are replaced with endless sky, open meadows, and thickets of fir and alder. Even gym takes on a different flavor: an exercise routine is transformed into "fungus aerobics" with kids breathlessly calling out "cap-gills-ring-stem-mycelium" as they pound out jumping jacks and touch their toes.

In between family-style meals, class meetings, and chores like cabin cleanup, students delve into intensive, hands-on field studies that focus on four key elements of the environment: water, soils, plants, and animals. Most of the activities, which are aligned with Oregon's eighth-grade benchmarks, are learned and then taught by high school volunteers. Some are taught by staff members with high school students assisting. All are so absorbing that students barely notice that they're learning hard-core science like the relationship between soil pH and plant growth or how stream turbidity affects sediment, water quality, and aquatic life.

In a state where environmental agendas often clash with bread-and-butter economic issues, the Outdoor School tries to veer away from a single political viewpoint. "We don't want to offend any families," says Camp Arrah Wanna Director Andrea Hussey. "We can't say things like 'logging is terrible' because there are students whose parents are loggers. So, we're very careful with our politics. What Outdoor School really does is create a sense of reverence for the natural world...It opens their eyes to what's out there and they take some of that back to their communities."

Life Lessons

For many kids, the most important lessons have to do with finding their own place in the world. "Whenever kids experience disequilibrium they're learning," points out Lory Lauridsen, a Gilbert Park Elementary School teacher. "My kids come knowing a lot of the science, but they're learning who they are, what they can do without Mom and Dad, and that's powerful. For teachers, (Outdoor School) shakes up your stereotypes about students—which is always a good thing."

"The learning that happens here is phenomenal," adds Sherry Russo-Card, a teacher from Mt. Tabor Middle School. "We come back with a great sense of community. Students relax and you form a whole new relationship with them because they see you as a person, not just an authority figure." Russo-Card's students reflect on the experience when they return to the classroom, publishing a newsletter that encapsulates what may be the most remarkable adventure of their entire school career. Here's what they'll remember:

• "Soil field study is really fun. Students get to do critter catch, make mud farms, make a mountain out of mud, look at a rock collection, and soil compaction. It is good to remember not to call the soil 'dirt' during the field study because the leaders would get mad when they heard this. They will always correct you, 'Dirt is only misplaced soil!'" —Michael
• "Letter writing is good if you are really homesick. It really does help. You can write to anyone you want to, even your pets." —Jenna and Kaela
• "Water field study is one of the best field studies ever, because you get to be by the water. You get to see if the water is polluted or not by catching intolerant and tolerant bugs. Another thing you get to do is test the water to see if it is acid, alkaline, or neutral. We found out that the Salmon River was neutral. Since the water was neutral, all kinds of creatures could live (there)." —April and Vienna
• "Having to live in a cabin for one week was really different, sleeping in a bunk bed instead of your own. If you were on the bottom you could always hear the person above you. Being on top, you had no head board. I almost fell off the top bunk... Living with your cabin buddies was not always easy when they did not follow the rules. For one week your cabin was your family. You worked as a team for the time." —Sharie
• "To be chosen for the tree planting ceremony (on the last night of camp), someone must be an outstanding student during field studies.... The field study staff begins with a few words. Then the tree ceremony participants walk up behind a baby tree, which symbolizes growth in friendship. Soil, which is collected by every student at Outdoor School (and brought to camp from a 'special place' at home), is then placed in the hole around the tree. This is to show that there is at least one place on the Earth we all have a connection. A snail is placed next to the tree and water is poured over it so it can be healthy. Those involved in the planting also state their name, what school they go to, and their favorite thing about Outdoor School. When I (Allison) did this I started to cry, because Outdoor School is so special." —Abby and Allison

For Abby and Allison and an "alumni" group that now numbers more than 275,000, the memories of Outdoor School—the silly songs, cold showers, fresh-baked snickerdoodles, nature hikes, cool counselors, and hours spent crouching beside the river—will linger on, long after the other lessons of sixth grade fade like distant stars.

Bringing Out the Best

By Drew Peterson, High School Student Leader

Hui was the smallest of the sixth-graders in my cabin, and his high-pitched and heavily accented voice made him a prime target of ridicule. His teacher warned me that he was the most likely to try to bend the rules. The tone of the teacher's voice and the worry etched into his brow alerted me to the biggest challenge he believed that this week of Outdoor School would present.

Hui grew up in a low-income neighborhood that my family and I had lived in during part of my childhood. His middle school had been closed down one year before due to air quality concerns that lingered unaddressed for years. Not surprisingly, the school served mostly students of color. Because of this, I was ecstatic to see the week of Outdoor School evolve into something extraordinary for Hui. More than in any previous volunteer experience involving kids, I was truly able to connect with this sixth-grader. The personal "good nights" I gave each student at bedtime were the first, Hui reluctantly told me, he had ever received. He also shared with me that he now wanted to be a Student Leader in high school—perhaps this was part of the reason.

Halfway through the week, after saying our good nights, I stepped out of the cabin into the fresh forest air. Closing my eyes, I could again hear all the laughter and good cheer of the students during our activities that day. My reflection came to an abrupt halt, however, as I suddenly noticed the complete silence of my cabin behind me. My ears detected no trace of the whispering, fooling, or running around so typical of sixth-graders. Perhaps the skeptics were right. Maybe Hui and his cabinmates were strategically holding themselves back, waiting for the coast to clear. Eventually I heard a noise escaping from the window. It was Hui, whose safe, calm snoring I recognized as it tiptoed through the night air toward me.

It was not my first time as a Student Leader, and I had seen before how Outdoor School brings the best out of the "worst." But something was different this time. At the end of the week, I could not help but laugh as I tried to convince Hui's shocked teacher of the remarkable week I saw him experience—that we experienced. Perhaps what made Hui different from the countless undiscovered treasures of Outdoor School was what we had in common. That cold, calm night in the woods, Hui reminded me of another curious sixth-grader who knew he wanted to come back five years later. I was reminded of myself.

Drew Peterson wrote about Hui as his "most unforgettable character" for a college application essay last year. Drew, a three-time volunteer at Outdoor School, is now a freshman studying biology and math at Stanford University.

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