My kid’s head will fall off
My kid’s head will fall off
Chronicles of the Riskgorilla: Chapter 2
Hi! It has been a bit since I first started writing to you about risk. In that letter, I introduced the Riskgorilla (though admittedly, I am just coining the term) as a major barrier to outdoor nature-connected programming and, specifically, outdoor nature-based learning1 even in nearby nature2. Then, I advocated for a “more nuanced narrative about risk” exploring risk’s positive and negative consequences and those that are immediate (e.g., spraining an ankle) versus those that are longterm (e.g., avoided teen pregnancies).
Today, I’m going to explore risk some more. And I’ll begin with un cuentito (a little story).
TL;DR
(Too long; didn’t read - for those of you tight on time but high on desire to know the Riskgorilla)
Risks is comprised of hazards and consequences (which can also be positive - aka “benefits”).
Outdoor adventure folks have often categorized these as subjective hazards (those over which we humans have direct control) and objective hazards (those that exist in the environment and which are outside of our locus of control).
More specific types of hazards include physical, psychological, and social.
There are also what I’m calling “complex hazards” based on identities, experiences, and cultures. Many hazards are physical/psychological/social and complex.
If we want to mainstream outdoor nature-based learning, we must address complex hazards.
Read on if your interest is piqued and you have 4 more minutes.
Wonder Onion
“¡No quiero que hagan eso!” Alejandra’s finger traced the Nordic (cross country) skiing programming we had planned as part of the physical education (PE) curriculum for students starting in third grade. “I don’t want you all to do that.”
Her voice cracked with fear.
I tried to turn to wonder as @Kevin Fong encouraged during a Diversity-Equity-Inclusion training from earlier that year.
“Help me understand?” I invited.
“No. Es que….no.” Just no.
My wonder onion was going to take more peeling.
I tried again.
“Ale…you sound worried. Can you tell me about that?”
“He could crash into a tree. He’s going to be flying.”
She first offered concerns that sounded — to me — like she was conflating Nordic skiing with downhill skiing. I offered an explanation of what cross country skiing would involve at a third grade level.
“Basically, the kids will strap skinny skis to their feet and attempt to move on the totally flat, snow-covered, turf field. They will be moving much slower than when they play running games.” I offered.
Alejandra was unconvinced.
“You’re going to make me sign one of those waivers that says my kid’s head could fall off and you’re not responsible.”
Sigh.
“It’s true you’ll sign a waiver with school. It’s actually for the whole year and covers a wide range of activities, from basketball (which I knew her son, Marco, played) to cross country skiing.”
She shook her head. “You’ll have just 1 adult out there with 25 students or more.”
Ahh, ratios. Right. In gym class, students would generally just be with one adult – their PE teacher. But I still didn’t feel like I’d reached the nut of it.
I pivoted. “Do you trust me, Alejandra?”
“Sí.” Yes. She looked me right in the eyes.
“What if I take just Marco Nordic skiing? 1-on-1?”
“No. Too dangerous.”
Not a ratio issue. I pivoted again, “Does Marco play basketball?” I asked, knowing.
“Sí…he loves it.”
“Would you let me play basketball with Marco?”
“Por supuesto.” Of course.
I will forever remember this conversation over almost any other related to connecting youth with the outdoors. It will stand as an illustration of identity, culture, lived experience, perceptions of risks, risk tolerance, types of risk, and the value of risk. Of how important it is to bring people all the way along. Of why the Riskgorilla is inhibiting mainstream adoption of outdoor nature-based learning and other forms of outdoor nature connections.
When Data is Not Enough
I’m not proud of this. One of my first actions after talking with Alejandra was to do what my White-cultural-dominant, well-educated brain was trained to do: google rates of injury in basketball versus in cross country skiing. Straight to empirical data. I don’t remember the exact stats, just that my hunch was right; injury rates are considerably higher in basketball. As I got “proof” of my rightness, I knew in the pit of my stomach that it was not the point. That I wasn’t right. There were way too many unspoken layers of risk at play for which empirical data held no answer or sway.
Now, as I work to mainstream nature-based learning in schools, especially learning outdoors in nearby nature, I must heed the wisdom embedded in that conversation.
I turn to wonder. And I listen. Here are some questions I can imagine or have heard from students, parents, teachers, administrators, and the general public about outdoor nature-based learning in nearby nature.
NB: This list assumes I’ve brought people along to understand what I mean by “nature-based learning” and “nearby nature.”
Students:
🐛🪲🐞 “Won’t there be bugs?”
🐍 What about snakes?
🐻 Bears?
Parents:
See bugs, snakes, bears above.
“I don’t want my kid learning outside. They should be on a computer and actually learning.”
“Sitting at a desk and looking at the teacher was how I learned.”
“I don’t send my kid to school to play; I send them to learn.”
“It’s too cold. My kid will get sick.”
“My kid is going to get hurt.”
Teachers/Administrators:
See bugs, snakes, bears above.
“The kids are going to go bananas.”
“It’s too much of a hassle.”
“I don’t know how to manage a group of 25+ students outdoors by myself.”
“I’ve got a runner…” (or insert behavioral challenge)
“I have a student who has a hypersensitivity to wind.” (or insert outdoor-related physical phenomenon)
“I have a student who is allergic to the grass.” (or insert outdoor-related allergy)
“What about bathrooms?”
“I won’t have _____ (a Smartboard, Wifi, Chromebooks, online curricula)”
“It will take too much time to adapt my lesson plans to an outdoor environment.”
“Testing…”
“Schedule…”
“Materials…”
“Too hot/cold/smoky/poor air quality”
“Distracting from the new curriculum we’re trying to roll out.”
“Adding one more thing…already overwhelmed.”
“Parent permission…”
General Public:
Bugs, snakes, bears.
“Kids these days need to learn how to live in the real world.”
“That school seems like a bunch of hippie nonsense where students are wasting time.”
And more I’m sure.
Hazards
There are probably dozens-upon-dozens of other questions and concerns to add to that list, all of which relate to risk. Some conform to empirical data and some don’t. All are informed by culture, experiences, and identities and lead to differing perceptions, tolerances, values, and lots of stuff in between. And, they all present real barriers to outdoor nature-based learning even in nearby nature.
Here I think it’s useful to employ an outdoor adventure heuristic. The above list contains a blend of what some outdoors-people call subjective hazards (those over which we humans have direct control – like how well fed we are, our fitness, our preparation) and objective hazards that exist in the environment and which are outside of our locus of control – like avalanches, wildlife, cold). Some hazards are a bit of a blend.
In reality, many hazards we face as educators blur the lines between subjective and objective. For our purposes, it is also useful to consider some specific types of hazards: physical, psychological, and social.3
Physical hazards include things that can injure us, make us sick, or kill us.
Psychological hazards cause or trigger emotional trauma. Psychological hazards can come from many sources that are hard to see or anticipate, including past traumatic experiences and places or associations that trigger past trauma (including ancestral trauma).
Social hazards are those that relate to external interpersonal dynamics
Here’s how I would start to categorize the concerns listed above:
Add the Complex Hazards
Beyond the heuristic and subcategories, there is another category at play here that I’m calling complex hazards. Complex hazards are those grounded in different – also valid – types of data based on identities, experiences, and cultures. Complex hazards show up as different risk tolerance, perceptions of risk, values of risk, and, confusingly — the actual riskiness of an activity4.
My conversation with Alejandra taught me this:
If we want to mainstream outdoor nature-based learning, we must address complex hazards — those based on identities, experiences, and cultures.
Here are some complex hazards from the above student-parent-teacher-admin-general-public list:
“I don’t want my kid learning outside. They should be on a computer and actually learning.”
“Sitting at a desk and looking at the teacher was how I learned.”
“I don’t send my kid to school to play; I send them to learn.”
“It’s too cold. My kid will get sick.”
“My kid is going to get hurt.”
“The kids are going to go bananas.”
“Kids these days need to learn how to live in the real world.”
“That school seems like a bunch of hippie nonsense where students are wasting time.”
Ok. That’s enough for today. I’ll pick this up again soon. Check back for the next installment of the Chronicles of the Riskgorilla.
📣Call-to-action:
Which hazards of outdoor nature-based learning in nearby nature are missing from my list or in the wrong place?
-Becca
P.S. Before we get too overwhelmed by this conversation on risk and all of the hazards we must contend with, I want to mention the Riskgorilla’s best friend: the Elephant Indoors. We tend to accept indoor hazards — and there are MANY — as part of life. From asbestos to indoor air quality to the school-to-prison pipeline, our indoor environments, especially in schools, are rife with risk. A topic for another day, I think.
Nature-based learning is learning outdoors or bringing elements of nature indoors for learning.
By “nearby nature,” I am referring to natural spaces near building (my work focuses on schools) that can be accessed by students and educators through human-powered locomotion such as walking, biking, or rolling.
Credit to Cisco Tharp for helping me streamline and articulate these types of risks in our work together with Get Outdoors Leadville!.
Think of @Alex Honnold who is known for free soloing (i.e., climbing without any ropes, gear, protection) huge vertical cliffs. If I were to try to free solo, assuming I could even get off the ground, the likelihood I would fall to-my-death is much higher than Alex’s. The consequence itself is the same: death. It’s just for me it would be almost certain, while Alex defies gravity. This has to do with his experiences — his expertise — honed over thousands of progressively harder feats.