Field Trips: The Good, Bad and the Ugly

Originally appears in the Spring 2006 issue

I awoke in twisted sheets, a reminder of the tossing and turning I had done throughout the night in eager anticipation of the coming day. It was the day I was taking my seventh grade class to a city park to begin a long-term field project. Since attending a teacher workshop in place-based education three months earlier, I had been crafting a way to apply the new teaching philosophy discussed — to help my students connect to the place where they live through using the environment as an integrating context for learning. I had met with an educator at the park to design a project that would be both an application of Grade 7 content standards and a means of meeting a current need of the park to enhance native habitat. It was a perfect match and I could hardly wait to get started.

Within five minutes of leaving the school parking lot, my dreams met reality:

“Julia, please sit down and look forward in your seat. Justin, please keep your head inside the window — the bus driver sometimes cuts the corners pretty close,” I said, attempting to inject a bit of humor.

My reminders, unheeded, soon turned into threats. “Okay, the next person I need to ask to stay seated and face forward will be moved. Socialize with the person sitting next to you. Julia, please move to the empty seat up front.” We were not even at the park yet, and already I was getting hoarse and feeling defeated. This was not what I had expected or hoped for.

“Welcome to Discovery Park,” read the entrance sign. We pulled into the park just as I was losing my patience. The naturalist greeted us in a bright room artfully decorated with local species of birds and mammals. She described her vision of the long-term project we were beginning: to restore a landscape that was overgrown with invasive weeds and turn it into a native plant garden. Our task that day would be to collect baseline data in our study area at the park’s periphery.

As the naturalist talked, I became angrier. The combination of a new instructor, a new classroom, and a challenging task had been interpreted by my students as an invitation to test behavior boundaries mercilessly. I was embarrassed by their behavior and helpless to save the situation, as nothing I said or did had any lasting effect. I thought to myself, Don’t they see what a fantastic learning opportunity this is? Would they rather be stuck back at school doing assignments that have no relation to the real world? I finally asked the naturalist to cut her introduction short in the hope that getting the students out into the field would increase their level of engagement.

On our walk to the study area, students’ complaints of missing recess for this “stupid class” drowned out the symphony of bird songs and the rustling of the new leaves that shaded our path. At the study site, they were organized into small groups, assigned a section of the study area, and asked to record the names and numbers of each species of bird, insect, and plant they found in their plot. I quietly walked the perimeter of the study site to quiet my mind and assess students’ progress. The first group I visited were throwing insects at one another. Another group had discovered that sticks can be creatively transformed into swords. As my supervisory walk continued, I spoke with each group repeatedly, encouraging them to focus on the task at hand. I modeled excitement for even the most insignificant of discoveries, hoping to elicit a bit of awe and respect for the study site. But at the end of 15 minutes I had had it. I gathered the class and we headed back to school. I had no energy for a wrap-up or assessment of the day. I felt beaten, discouraged, angry, and insecure.

What had gone wrong? After a refreshing nap and a long run, I was finally ready to face the questions I knew I needed to ask. Had I set the students up for success? Had I helped them become invested in the project? Had I remembered to take baby steps in the process of trying something new? Or had I been so attached to my agenda that I didn’t see the needs of my students? It was clear that the students had not had enough prior knowledge or experience to succeed at the task assigned to them. It was equally clear that some behavioral expectations should have been established in order to reduce the mayhem.

We didn’t return to the park the next week as originally scheduled. Instead, we practiced going on field trips. As a group, we brainstormed to create a list of behavioral expectations for field trips, along with consequences for not following expectations. And then we practiced. We practiced walking respectfully as a group. We practiced listening respectfully to visitors in the classroom. We practiced treating our immediate environment with respect. We went on mini-field trips — walks in the hallway, walks around the school perimeter, and eventually a short walk to the park across the street.

One simple activity, a scavenger hunt, was planned for our journey across the street. This activity gave the students freedom within boundaries, in that the scavenger hunt list was sufficiently open-ended to encourage critical thinking and creative interpretation, and yet still held students accountable for completing a manageable task. For example, students were asked to find something that once was alive; find a resident of the park performing a life-sustaining behavior; find something natural that is turquoise, something the color of pink bubble gum, and something fire-engine red; find something dead that is larger than a football. This activity held the students’ attention and encouraged them to explore the park with inquisitive eyes. The students loved it. They successfully completed the task and returned to the classroom with a list of new “cool” discoveries about a place they visit often.

Back in the classroom, students assessed their behavior according to the expectations we had created as a group, and each set one personal goal for our next journey. Then they shared with the class what they had discovered at the park. We discussed biodiversity and explored possible reasons why the biodiversity in the park was so low. We brainstormed changes that could be made to the park to increase its biodiversity. The conversation was rich and energetic, and students’ ideas creative and optimistic. I encouraged them to think of ways to act on their ideas and to help implement the suggestions they were generating. After much discussion, the students proposed that we go back to Discovery Park. They decided that they could experiment with designing a native garden at the study site and then share the results of their research with the local park across the street.

I was shocked. The students were begging me to take them back to a place which they had detested only months earlier. On the other hand, it made perfect sense. In my excitement to begin this project I had completely forgotten the basic teaching principles I apply to all assignments in the classroom. I had forgotten to set clear expectations for the new learning environment. I had neglected to scaffold my students’ learning experience and to provide ample modeling. I had neglected to give them opportunities to practice new skills and receive feedback before applying those skills. I had rushed into the project before eliciting students’ interest in the topic and without providing them with an opportunity to explore the relevance of the project to the “real world.” (A project may take place outdoors in the real world, but that doesn’t mean its relevance or value is clear to students.) Finally, I was reminded of the importance of a lesson “hook,” especially for long-term projects.

These two very different outdoor trips demonstrate one of the most common mistakes made by classroom teachers when beginning to teach in the field: we often forget that the teaching techniques and structures used successfully in the classroom environment need to be adapted and applied in the field as well. In reflecting on my experiences, I realized that I had learned a number of lessons:

1. At the beginning of the school year, teachers often spend months teaching their students how to walk down the hallway and behave respectfully toward others. Similar attention needs to be devoted to teaching students how to move and interact in the field.

2. For a journey outside the classroom to be a meaningful learning experience, pre- and post-trip conversations and activities in the classroom should be designed to support and build upon the learning that takes place in the field.

3. Visiting experts (or, as in this case, park naturalists) can make wonderful contributions to field learning experiences. Aside from imparting knowledge, they can be exceptional role models and have a profoundly positive influence on students. However, the classroom teacher still needs to direct the show, creating a learning structure that allows the guest expert to share knowledge in a way that best matches the learning goals of the teacher and the diverse physical, behavioral, and intellectual needs of the students. When classroom teachers blend their expertise in teaching with the knowledge of the field expert, learning is more easily transferred between the classroom and the field, and students are taught in a more student-centered way.

4. Outdoor settings lend themselves nicely to the use of best teaching practices such as hands-on inquiry, and teachers need to be mindful of applying such practices when crafting outdoor experiences.

5. Teaching in a new setting, and adjusting tried and true teaching techniques accordingly takes perseverance, flexibility, reflection, and courage.

Place-based education program

The Teton Science Schools’ Outreach Journeys Program offers grant-funded teacher workshops that support practicing K–12 teachers in implementing place-based education. It includes two weekend workshops at the Teton Science Schools in Kelly, Wyoming, field teaching resources, a three-day site visit by TSS faculty and field instructors, and a year of ongoing support and facilitated communication among participants. For more information about this program and others, email info@tetonscience.org or visit <tetonscience.org>.

Helpful hints for taking learning outside

• Don’t forget to apply the same good teaching techniques you use in the classroom to your work in the field.
• Give students choice and ownership over their learning.
• Provide students with the opportunity to learn through direct experience with the environment before learning about the place from an expert.
• Establish behavioral expectations for the new learning environment. Provide opportunities for students to practice and receive feedback on these expectations.
• Break tasks into manageable chunks.
• Set students up for success by modeling and providing ongoing feedback before, during, and after learning experiences.

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Laura Woolf is on the graduate faculty at Teton Science Schools in Grand Teton National Park, Wyoming, where she serves as the coordinator of the Outreach Journeys Training Program.