6 July 2001 - 2

Today is a day to wrap up incomplete projects. We had considered taking the entire group on the 10+ mile boundary trail hike, but most have too many assignments that they need to complete. Spent the morning with two lads working on Forestry.

They need to collect samples of 15 trees and/or shrubs, including 10 bark samples, and write information on what each is, how to identify it, where it grows, and what it is used for. I am university trained for this stuff.

One of their mothers is the other leader, and she is here also.

She's a teacher, and hasn't figured out that being a leader is different. We're supposed to serve as references and guides, not instructors. But she is reading the plant book I provided, and telling her son what to write down.

Word for word.

He is not enjoying this.

The other boy is making less progress, because I just sit there and wait for him to ask questions. In fact, I'm finishing up Wreck of the Medusa. And more often than not, I answer his questions with questions:

"What is aspen used for?"

"What do you think it is used for?"

"I dunno."

"Well, is the wood hard or soft?"

"Soft."

"What do people make out of soft wood?"

"I don't know."

"What is paper made out of?"

"Soft wood!"

Do you see the difference? I could have just told him that aspen is used for paper, but would he have learned it? Would he have thought?

And would he feel like he figured it out?

How do I explain this to her? Without bruising her ego, since she obviously sees and treats me as a bumbling, indifferent amateur who doesn't know how to educate youth.

After the first 10 plants the mother tells her son to have Mr. Grouse look over his paper.

I don't need to. I've heard every word as she told him to write it down.

I take his paper and, without looking at it, ask him "How much of this is yours, and how much is from that teacher sitting beside you?"

Not really tactful, but after a couple years or so of this, my tact is getting buried kinda deep. She misses the hint.

Her dander is up, and she points at the other, innocent lad and asks how much of his paper is his, and how much is mine.

She really doesn't see the difference.

My wife caught on to this difference on her very first campout with the group. Eldest son's best friend (at the time) came up to her and the leader of the group, and asked them how he should cook his dinner of canned chili.

"Are there instructions on the can?"

He hadn't thought of that. But, no, there were none. Already removed and burned the label.

"What do you think you should do?"

"Put it in a pot and heat it over the fire."

"Sounds like it'll work to me."

So much better than simply telling him what he needed to do. And the wife has passed the lesson from that leader on to me.

I've tried passing on the lesson the same way, by example, but this teacher/mother just doesn't get it.

After a simple lunch of peanut butter and grape jelly sandwiches, we decided to spend our free afternoon on a hike. If all went well, we could probably get to the top of Monster Mountain and also make the gentler looping trail around OA "Lake." But we need to be back before 5 o'clock, so I pointed out we may only have time to do one of the two. We should do it first, and then see if there is time for the other.

Mrs. Teacher made it clear she wanted to go the easy route, to OA Lake. I let the five boys vote.

Three for Monster (two who missed the Wednesday night hike, and one who wanted daytime photos from the summit) and two for the lake.

So I came down on the side of the majority. Back up Monster it is.

Mrs. Teacher accuses me of being a glutton for punishment. My feet are probably just as sore as hers, but a large point of this program is letting the young men decide what they want to do. Unwise or not. We're just here to prevent disasters.

So we head off up the valley.

But storms with thunder and lightning come in, preventing a hike to the summit. After 15 minutes of waiting with no improvement, I take another vote.

We're off to the lake. Mrs. Teacher looks smug, like she knew this was best all along. She still doesn't get it. It needs to be their decision. The skies clear as we head west.

After a period of skipping rocks in the lake (actually a moderately large pond), we take off to complete the loop back to camp.

Mrs. Teacher's son has the lead. By default and age, he has been the unwilling group leader all week, and doing a good job. But now he takes off down the trail as fast as he can, leaving us far behind. We finally reel him in on a long, straight stretch.

The trail is going to make an unexpected right turn in the trees ahead, marked only by orange diamonds on a tree or two. I use this opportunity for a little map interpretation, showing her son where we are, where the trail leads, and that he needs to be alert for a poorly marked turn.

When the water break is over, I ask him to take the lead again.

But now he is unsure... he doesn't want to screw up. Not with witnesses. With a little encouragement, I know I can get him up front again, but no, his teacher mother sees a task that needs to be done, and charges in to do it. She is confident in her abilities, and takes off in the lead.

Lady, it's not like I don't know where we are. I can read a map. I do this for a living. I even occassionally do it at night by flashlight or moonlight. And I've hiked this trail before. But she thinks we all need her leadership, and off she goes.

Of course she finds the turn in the trail. It isn't that hard. And the fence blocking your way forward is a good clue.

But she deprived her own son of the chance to learn that he too, could navigate unknown land with a map and his wits.

She just doesn't get it.