Post-Lesson Reflection

In my previous post, I shared some ideas for teaching skills in a camp setting. To review briefly, remember to teach a skill in the context it will be used as much as possible. (Example: practice paddling in the water.) Avoid lecturing except when necessary to convey rules, commands, etc. And most importantly, learn to teach a skill three different ways. For example, learn to teach a forward stroke by describing it verbally, modeling the stroke yourself, and asking campers to practice while you correct any errors. Once the successful lesson is over, take a short time to reflect on the lesson you just taught, which is the topic I’d like to discuss in this, the latest installment of “Matt writing stuff for the blogs.”

Reflecting on a lesson shows that you care enough about campers and your own teaching to make it better. If you are not a naturally reflective person, that is okay. Reflection is a skill: you can learn the skills of reflection and put them to use. This is a good time to point out that in order to do this well, you have to leave your ego at the door. It can be hard to admit that you could have done something better when you were teaching archery or leading your camping trip, but the people who can admit mistakes are taking the first step to becoming better. This is also a really good time to point out that if you find yourself saying that you never do anything wrong, or that you led a perfect camping trip, you are probably lying. Take a step back from the crafts activity you just taught or the canoe trip you led, and be honest with yourself. It’s more than okay to admit mistakes: it’s really really important to admit them so that you can get better.

Here are just a few reflection questions you can use to start thinking about your lesson:

1. How well did the group learn what you wanted them to learn?
2. Were there participants that seemed disengaged or bored?
3. What did you learn about the learning styles of your participants? Can you identify your participant’s learning styles?
4. What changes might you make in regards to:

• Planning your lesson
• Teaching the lesson
• Group Management during the activity

5. Come up with two ways you could try to engage the participants who were not very involved in your lesson.

There are many more ways to reflect on and improve a lesson, but these questions provide a good start. Whatever way you choose to go about reflecting, it does not need to take very long. If you are working in a program area, you only have five to zero minutes between groups. Between groups, however, you can think about one thing you’d like to do better with the next group. When you are leading a camping trip, you can think about your leadership abilities during your paddle or hike. And of course, stealing a few minutes alone by the fire at night or the coffee pot in the morning is a great way to think about how things are going.

And again, be honest with yourself about how your activities are going. If you can’t figure out how to deal with a certain camper or situation, ask for help. Talk with another staff member who seems to be doing a good job teaching their campers. The point of a good reflection is to figure out how you can teach better. If you notice improvement in your teaching, you are probably doing a good job reflecting on and adjusting your teaching.

Until we blog again,
Matt Leibfried

Matt Leibfried is a teacher and Trip Leader at Camp Manito-wish YMCA.

If you would like to write for the Wetfoot, please email thewetfoot@gmail.com for submission guidelines.

A Taste of Jordanian Hospitality

I've spent the past three months living in Amman as part of a study abroad program that brings students to the University of Jordan to take classes, learn Arabic, and learn about the Jordanian culture. I've always wanted to study abroad somewhere that was completely different from what I've grown up with in the US, and after studying Arabic in college, Jordan seemed like the ideal place to study. I think I also chose Jordan in part because there was an air of mystery about it. Not very many people know very much about Arab culture in the US, and after doing my best in the past few years to read books, articles, and newspaper articles about the region, I finally realized that if I actually want to learn as much as I can about Arab culture, then I simply have to immerse myself in the middle of it and absorb as much of the experience as I can.

Before arriving, I thought I was pretty confident about my knowledge of the Middle East. I'd taken Arabic language classes for the past two years as well as classes about Islam, Arab history, and daily life in the Middle East, so I felt relatively comfortable about my knowledge of the region and its history. However, no class I took could teach me what I've learned about Jordan its culture in my stay so far.

I guess you could say my cultural exchange began before my plane's wheels even touched down in the middle of the arid Jordanian desert. My seatmate, a former heavyweight boxer, grew up in Jordan and was flying home to visit family. I don't remember his name, but I do remember his excitement to be the first person to welcome me to his country. He immediately offered to drive me to my hotel, and if I didn't have a hotel, I was more than welcome to stay at his house for the night. I was surprised and somewhat flattered at this candid offer. I'd never experienced such an open display of hospitality from an absolute stranger before, and if I hadn't already arranged a pick-up from the airport, there's a good chance I might have taken him up on his proposal.

After three months in Jordan, I can happily say that my interaction with the airplane boxer was in no way unusual. For the most part, all Jordanians, or all Arabs, cannot be described using just one word or just one sentence. However, the one thing that has been a constant in nearly all of my interactions with Jordanians is the earnest desire to welcome complete strangers into their country.

Each day, after taking taxis and buses to and from class, work, and the gym I return home to find my pockets full of phone numbers and business cards from taxi drivers, people I share a seat with on the bus, and strangers who I bump into on the street. Each time I meet someone new and introduce myself to him, without fail, he smiles, looks into my eyes, and repeats, "ahlan wasahlan." Welcome. More often than not, my new friend proceeds to ask me about my life, tell me about his life, and then invite me to get coffee or tea.

In addition to being invited to tea, I've been taken on tours around the city. I've been brought to someone's house for dinner. My new friends have offered me rooms in their houses, and I can easily list three or four different people who are more than willing to help me practice my Arabic whenever I want. Strangers have given me everything from cookies, coffee, and tea to CDs, hats, and ski gloves, and what's more impressive, they all do it without expecting anything in return.

These generous displays of hospitality catch me on my heels each and every time. After traveling throughout different parts of the world and getting in and out of a variety of sticky situations, I'd like to think I'm able to put on a pretty intimidating don't-mess-with-me face. However, Jordanians have a knack for persistently cracking through my shell and forcing a smile out of even my meanest travel face.

At first, I tried to refuse these offers of hospitality, because I thought they were too good to be true and there had to be something attached. Or maybe, I thought, they were trying to take advantage of me. Initially, I tried to keep up my guard in order to avoid being ripped off or conned, but I quickly learned that I was being foolish, because a Jordanian offer to tea is almost always entirely genuine, and, in fact, I've learned that sitting down for 10 minutes to chat and get to know someone is a great way to break down barriers between cultures, get to know someone as an individual, and take a break from my hectic schedule to sit back, relax, and enjoy a cup of sweet, Arab mint tea.

Matt Liston is a student at Colorado College and led trips in 2010 and 2009 for Camp Manito-wish. He was also a former Camper.

If you would like to write for the Wetfoot, please email thewetfoot@gmail.com for submission guidelines.

Understanding Leave No Trace: Is It Ever Acceptable to Not Follow LNT?

Spending many school years outside of Wisconsin has made me increasingly grateful for its heritage of wilderness and conservation. Silent sports enthusiasts enjoy ample public land, an attentive and dedicated Department of Natural Resources staff, and a large community of similar-minded people.

As a result, camping and backpacking are particularly popular in Wisconsin, making an ethic of sustainable wilderness practice essential.

The most widely known authority on such an ethic is the Leave No Trace organization, which raises awareness of the environmental footprint of outdoors pursuits and seeks to reduce environmental impact through advocacy and education.

LNT is best known for its seven principles:



· Plan ahead and prepare

· Travel and camp on durable surfaces

· Dispose of waste properly

· Leave what you find

· Minimize campfire impacts

· Respect wildlife

· Be considerate of other visitors

Each of these principles can then be applied in various, concrete ways. Planning ahead, for example, includes avoiding the high season that puts particular stress on an environment, traveling in smaller groups, and planning meals that create less waste.

LNT enjoys near-gospel status in the outdoor recreation community, and at organizations like Camp Manito-wish and for good reason. Thousands of people utilize Wisconsin’s trails, lakes, and rivers each summer, so the difference between an average and an exceptional wilderness ethic has far-reaching consequences.

With all of that in mind, is it ever acceptable to not follow LNT?

I think most of us would say yes, particularly when safety is a concern. If a group is caught unexpectedly in cold weather and forced to camp, no one would begrudge them a (safely created) warming fire despite its greater environmental footprint.

The real question, then, is this: how does one decide when a given situation overrides particular LNT applications?

LNT itself is careful to note that it is “best understood as an educational and ethical program, not as a set of rules and regulations.” Its concern is not rigid adherence, but the promotion of a cohesive and sustainable wilderness practice.

Therefore, context matters. It makes a difference whether one is camping on a heavily-used DNR site on Trout Lake or a pristine clearing in Alaska. Campfire practice is a good illustration of this difference.

LNT encourages campers to use stoves instead of campfires because the impact is lower. That said, many northern Wisconsin camps build a lot of campfires in the Northwoods. This is done for a variety of reasons: to teach campers a valuable hard skill, to deters mosquitoes, to carry on a cherished tradition, and to save fuel. Doing so in the established fire rings and bountiful forests of the Northwoods, however, is quite different from unspoiled Alaska. Accordingly, these organizations and many others cook only on stoves for trips such as this.

Along the same lines, LNT encourages campers to return campsites to the most natural state possible, including tossing unused kindling and firewood back into the woods. While many abide by this policy, the campers I led questioned it. On the very popular sites we frequent, they appreciate any firewood left for them by previous inhabitants and consider their own unused firewood a gift to the people who come next.

Actually, I tend to agree. I think my campers recognize that our local campsites are not pristine wilderness. They are more akin to individual plots on a very wide-ranging campground, where daily use is expected. This particular application of LNT is therefore not as relevant for us, whereas it is extremely important in backcountry clearings that are just beginning to show repeated use.

On the whole, then, there may be instances where following the spirit of the “law” of LNT pushes us in a different direction than blindly following the letter of that same law.

That said, if we accept the authority of LNT practice, we need to take it seriously. I can’t just ignore the firewood rule on trail. I have a responsibility to talk through the principle with my campers, explain its goal, and reason through how it applies to our firewood practice for the trip.

In the same way, I think LNT challenges us as a camping staff to use stoves more frequently and intentionally and to explain to our campers the environmental reasons for doing so. We need not eliminate campfire use, but we may be called to moderate it.

We do LNT a disservice when we treat it as manna from heaven and interpret it in a narrow and uncompromising way. But we do it an equal disservice when we carelessly pick and choose from its principles. As with so many things, thoughtful reflection can guide our way forward.

Sara Knutson has been a Trip Leader at Camp Manito-wish YMCA and will be an Administrator in the Outpost Program this summer.

If you would like to write for The Wetfoot, please contact thewetfoot@gmail.com for submission guidelines.