How Curriculum Implementation is Like Ziplining

Forgive my absence last week. I was one of 12 adults who took 87 eighth graders to Chiang Mai, Thailand for Week Without Walls. It was quite the busy week: Thai cooking class, elephant conservation center, chatting with Buddhist monks, ziplining through the rainforest, a service project to paint a local kindergarten, a hike up to a rural Karen hill tribe village, sleeping in a dorm with girls who are afraid of bugs, a service project to plant vegetables for the village school lunches, and bamboo rafting down the river. Exhausting, yes, but also a great learning experience for everyone.

One element that I especially love about experiential learning opportunities is putting myself and the students in situations that push us out of our comfort zone. For the students, this uncomfortable feeling came at different points. For some, it was staying in a very basic dorm with thin foam mattresses on the floor instead of a 5-star hotel. For some, it was hiking on muddy trails up and down hills for three hours instead of driving or walking along flat sidewalks. For some, it was rolling paint on a wall, possibly the first time they ever participated in a DIY project. For me (and several others), it was conquering our fear of heights on the zipline.

As I've gotten older, my fear of heights has gotten worse. Last year, I didn't go on the zipline at all. That course had 27 ziplines with 5 vertical rappels/ abseils (I'm not sure which term to use). As the guide was describing the route, my face got whiter and whiter, my heart beat faster and faster, and I just couldn't start. This year, we went to a new place. This course had 26 stations which included 18 ziplines and 8 other ropes course challenges scattered throughout. I figured the variety of activities would give me a break from my terror. Besides, my chaperone group of eight girls needed me, especially the one who was as scared as I was. We made an agreement that we would try the first few together, knowing we could bail within the first six stations.

And so I started and it was scary and I clung to the rope that attached me to the line, eyes straight ahead, never looking down. As I passed the third one and then the fifth one, the zipline became easier and easier. I risked a glance at the forest floor 50 meters below me. I released a hand and made a silly face for the photographer. By the 26th station, I still wasn't comfortable, but the thrill was more pleasurable than terrifying.

Now that I am sitting in my living room looking back, I realize that the zipline lesson works for most risk-taking opportunities. I think back to four years ago when our middle school launched the workshop approach in English Language Arts. Many teachers were very uncomfortable with the model, especially the amount of unstructured independent time involved and the intense conferring element. However, we broke it down into smaller areas to tackle. Just like my agreement with the other scared girl in my group, we agreed to give it a try, focusing on the next tree ahead instead of the 26 stations ahead. With workshop, our department started with minilessons, a structure we could understand how to modify. As that became more comfortable, we began trying a few more things: meeting with each student individually at least twice per three week unit, developing small groups based on MAP data, observing each other to build our repertoire of management strategies and routines, matching books with students to increase their reading volume. And here we are four years later, with smooth workshops up and running. As you can see in my picture, I am still gripping that rope with one hand, just like many of us are still clinging to some structures that we just can't release yet. But we'll get there with practice, one zipline challenge at a time.

Can we do the same with the Common Core?