The Unexpected Adventure

The whole point of our trip to the environmental learning center is to challenge the kids to challenge themselves. To push themselves further than they think they can go. We do that by making them walk on wires thirty feet above the ground, cling to a wall for dear life and then fall, and trudge through snow four feet high to reach an unknown destination. Each time I chaperone this trip I am moved quite nearly to tears by the successes they achieve while never believing they can. It's a Hallmark movie with a Chariots of Fire theme song. It really is.

For some, the challenge is physical, pushing yourself up onto the single high wire after falling. For some, it's mental, solving the puzzle of where to place your fingers on the rock wall. But for most, the emotional weight of their social interactions is the greatest challenge of all. The one that no one expects, not the teachers, not the kids. Their greatest fear is not belonging. It's the reason one won't climb the rock wall and why another won't sit with the group at dinner. It's the reason one crawls into bed instead of joining the campfire and why another trips everyone instead of telling them their words hurt. They are afraid. And it's the reason that I spend a good chunk of my week cushioning the blows that they serve one another. Eating with a lone boy in the dining hall. Sitting on the edge of a bed as a girl cries. Walking with a boy in the back of the pack as he talks . . . and talks and talks. . . his whole life story laid bare.

As I look back, then, over the three days, I'm not sure what we learned about the environment, but I can say that we each learned a little something about fears. So when they said to me, whether on the high ropes or the climbing wall, "Ms. D. I'm scared." They didn't know that I was thinking about ALL of their battles when I replied, "Of course you are. That's why what you do next matters."