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Slowing Down: How Nature Offers Teens Compassion and Self-identity in
a Fast-Paced World
Scott Brinton |
Web Exclusive
In our fast-paced, modern world, there seems to be a lack of connection between the 'normal consciousness' of teenagers and the much slower rhythms of nature. Having been born myself into the channel changer generation, I understand the difficulty teens have in matching their pace with the natural world. It's a lot like trying to shift into first gear when going fifty-five miles an hour. A lot of it has to do with how strongly engrained the patterns and routines of our daily lives are. When faced with boredom, for example, our patterned responses are generally human centric activities (watching T.V. or playing video games). Teens have so few opportunities nowadays to turn their attention towards the slower rhythm of nature, or to slow down and get to know themselves.
For the past three years my task has been to slow teenagers down and help them connect to nature. Two days a week at the Riekes Center Nature Studies program, my co-leader and I give our time and careful attention to ten to twelve teens in the open spaces and parks in the mid-peninsula of California's Bay Area. At times it seems effortless, but on other days, helping to pull teenagers away from their ordinary routines and into their senses seems dauntingly impossible.
In my eyes, the real art of mentoring involves timing. There are many moments in a day when even the most reclusive student will show interest in something. With most teens, however, if a trusting relationship hasn't been well established, moving too quickly or abruptly at these moments can slam an opening door shut. The heron waits for the fish, the photographer waits for the fox to emerge, the lean deer waits for the grass to thicken, and the teacher waits for the right time to pull a student along.
I remember the year Shane came to school, armed with an attitude of righteousness and walking self-absorbed footsteps. But as I watched the experiences of each day unfold, it became clear that he loved playing hiding games. One day, I decided to demonstrate some full body camouflage techniques. During one of our games, Shane and I both hid under a pile of leaves in close proximity to each other. Only our eyes remained uncovered. We were silent for several minutes. I began to use an old birdwatching technique--a low raspy call--to attract some brightly colored warblers who were feeding in the canopy overhead. Instantly they swooped down, alighting on branches several inches from our heads. They chattered back and forth, right on top of us, trying to discover the source of the call. Shane was mesmerized.
Later that day, I sat back and winked to my co-leader as we watched Shane's body posture, seeing the excitement bubble out of him as he breathlessly described his experience with the birds to his peers. It was clear to her too--the door had opened. The next day, I bet Shane a dollar that the bird we saw everyday out in the field was a chickadee (in actuality it was a junco). "I think it's a junco" he stammered uncertainly.
At that moment I knew that he wasn't sure what the bird was. Timing. I was searching for the edges of his knowledge and gently nudging him beyond those limits. "Can you prove it?" I replied. And the next hour led into a conversation about every detail on every feather of that bird. "Yeah but listen to the sound that it is making, that sure sounds like a chickadee to me," was my only reply.
The next day Shane arrived at school armed with two field guides to Western Birds, a pair of binoculars (still bearing the price tag) and a birdcall tape that was cued up to Junco. He was ready to claim his dollar.
Within a year Shane became the best birder of our group and was consulted regularly about different species. He did his own mini bird journals and volunteered at a local raptor center every weekend, where he earned the volunteer of the year award. His self-absorbed footfalls changed as he learned about bird language, wanting to see animals before the birds alarmed at his presence and scared them away. Shane was rapidly becoming a renowned naturalist. But I take little credit for Shane's success. I merely watched what interested him deeply, and helped him pursue it.
During my three years at the Riekes Center I have watched similar transformations in other students in the program-in all of them, actually. Sometimes it's hard to measure, but you can sense that these teens are somehow more comfortable with themselves. They talk easily with adults and laugh a lot.
As instructors we never mention environmental issues or the catastrophic events that might be looming in the future. We don't have to. These things surround them everyday. What we do is place them in environmental settings, wait for their latent curiosity to emerge, and then support their educational journey. Encouraging teenagers to identify and pursue their individual passions allows them to take charge of their own lives and hence emerge as natural leaders. And as their rhythm slows they become increasingly connected with the world around them. Mirrored with the forest rather than television these students confront themselves. As assumptions and prejudices breakdown through direct observation in the field, students' emotions shift. Let's face it; a student that can understand that a junco is disturbed from a hundred yards typically can't help becoming perceptive and compassionate.
No doubt some of these students will go on to become community leaders, others to work productively in various business and social fields, most will raise families of their own. Wherever they go and whatever they do, this newfound pace and connection will follow them.
Scott Brinton has trained and instructed with Wilderness Awareness School for the past ten years. He co-founded the Nature Study department at the Riekes Center. The Riekes Center for Human Enhancement is a nonprofit mentoring organization that provides quality training in athletic fitness, creative arts, and nature studies. The Nature Studies Department is committed to training naturalists and stewards through classroom, after school, summer camps, and private and home school programs. Scott is currently instructing a California Natural History Field Semester for young adults seeking wilderness as their college campus. For more information call (650) 298-3405, or e-mail nature@riekes.org.
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