Conceptualizing vs Objectifying the Resource

There are a lot of facts about resources that, as teachers, we feel compelled to confer to our students, but sometimes it behooves us to relax these expectations and focus on more foundational concepts - like forging a basic connection with the resource. One such instance became infinitely clear to me while I was leading a birding hike for a group of urban elementary school children.

Unsurprisingly, as the crowd of 5th graders poured off the school bus, their fear and uncertainty regarding the outdoors became unmistakably evident. Some wanted to stay inside the bus while others wanted to seek refuge in a nearby visitor center. Few were eager to venture down the trail into unfamiliar territory. Still, I greeted the group with my usual tub of binoculars and birding checklists, inviting the youngsters to choose their personal equipment for the day.

The obvious expectations for the outing that day was for the students to experience the outdoors and become acquainted with some of the birds residing in the area. It was the hope of their chaperones and teachers that the children would come away with several "feathers in their caps", namely, a variety of bird sightings marked down on their checklists. The students, however, had other plans for the day.

Despite the plethora of rich coastal resources surrounding them, the children's attention repeatedly gravitated toward the comfort of more familiar sights and sounds such as a plane flying overhead, the whirring of a boat motor or the billowing smokestacks of a distant refinery. It was obvious that they had little to no connection with the surrounding habitat and therefore, no motivation to discover, let alone learn about its inhabitants.

The adults in the group were growing increasingly frustrated, if not somewhat embarrassed at the children's abject disinterest in the days' planned activities. They pleaded, prodded and even threated with failing grades in attempts to somehow motivate the students to display some interest in the resource and activities. They tried to create competitions by urging the students to identify certain birds first or check off a specified number of sightings before the other students - all to no avail. The students continued to bemoan the experience, rather than embrace it.

Surveying the situation, I realized the students weren't intentionally trying to misbehave, they simply could not relate to the resource, let alone interact with it. What significance did a Great Blue Heron play in their day-to-day lives? They had no personal reason for attributing any value to the resource. It seemed we would have to take a few steps back and focus on more foundational elements than identifying birds.

It was at this moment that one of the kids gasped in excitement. A young boy shouted "Hey! Check that out!" as he pointed to a nearby shrub. The students immediately around him let out some excited chatter as everyone's attention turned to a Red-Winged Blackbird that had just landed on a small branch, only a few feet away from the boardwalk. the bird was treating the children to an up close and personal encounter that captured their attention. While the adults quickly grabbed their checklists and began to urge the children to defer to theirs, one of the children turned to me and asked "What kind of bird is that?" Rather than give him the immediate answer he sought, I decided to capitalize on this teachable moment with a focus on the inherent value of the bird, rather than it's name. In short, I chose to conceptualize the resource, rather than objectify it.

"I don't know" I shrugged in passive response.

"You don't know?" he echoed, apparently shocked, as I was the presumed subject matter expert on scene.

"No," I continued. "There are a lot of different birds out here with a lot of different names - I can't remember all of them." I paused to gauge his reaction. He was intrigued. So I continued. "However, sometimes animals are named by people based on how they look, or sound or behave. What would you call it if you were naming it?" I probed.

This sparked an excited discussion amongst the field trip participants, as they began to throw out all sorts of suggestions. I smiled as I heard comments referring to the bird's black plumage and bright red shoulders. Meanwhile, other comments seemed to be further off that mark, but they were thinking about and discussing the resource, nonetheless. That's what mattered most for this group. By giving them the opportunity to name it, I had imparted on them some level of ownership or stock in the bird. Through the ensuing debate, they were forming a connection.

I let the discussion continue for a bit and then asked them "So, what did you decide? What should we call that bird?"

There was a consensus around a name detailing the black plumage and red shoulders - his most outstanding features. So, we crafted a name something along the lines of a "red-shouldered black bird" and I congratulated the students on their excellent collaborative work. But I didn't spoil the surprise there. I used this as an opportunity to also introduce them to using the guide book, to which they referred - only to discover the bird's actual name. The absolute pride in their voices when they realized just how accurate they had been! Their naming was right in line with the experts who name birds!

The students excitedly checked off their new friend, the Red-Winged Blackbird on their sheets and then eagerly grabbed their binoculars in a rush to find another bird to name. As the day continued, we did manage to see and identify a number of impressive birds in the salt marsh. However, it is the little Red-Winged Blackbird that I am sure the students connected to and remembered best.

"We may take visitors to the resource for them to experience it, but we must take the resource to the visitor for them to appreciate it."