OLP Canoe Field Work. . .and Rescue

Wednesday, 9/30
Our teaching field work with various schools and agencies requires our class to divide into groups to plan and provide community service. My group, Erin, George, Kristi, Jake, and myself are working today with a high school group. Our supervisor Austin will be taking notes on the sidelines unless otherwise needed. We meet at the boathouse at 7a.m. and meet the school group at Barton Cove for 9 although part of the group is running late.

We talk with the on-timers and hear a few concerns about flipping the canoes and we let them know that, though a possibility, it's a rare occurrence. When we are all together, their teacher Elaine has brought Bianca, Demetrie, Jeremiah, Lucas, Mike, Nick, Ryan, and Tony. We have planned our day to include a variety of get-to-know-you games and front loading of safety and other expectations, leading up to learning the parts of the canoe and paddle game, followed by paddle instruction and then getting out onto the cove. I'm responsible for the canoe and paddle parts and because one of their goals is team building, the game requires a blindfolded participant who needs a guide to keep them safe-make sure they don't trip on the canoe or tree roots. When teaching the paddle parts, I consider skipping the "shaft" knowing how highschoolers will likely react but decide to test them. Snickers ensue but we keep moving. The game runs fairly well though, in our debrief, Austin suggests that I should have stated their goals and ours goals, and to note that the purpose of the blindfold is team building. I thought it was confidential information but transparency is the goal.

George leads the land demo of a water T-Rescue which we hope will instill confidence in the students, though I recall the pre-rapids rescue demo increasing my anxiety. We move down to the shore and the boats, and Erin shows them her impressive gunwale 3 point crawl to enter and exit the boats, noting the importance of a low center of gravity.

Jake handles preliminary stroke instruction on land and then boats and students are launched and head to the inner side of the cove. The wind blows enough that it forces us to change our plans for a paddle to the island and a slalom game. In fact, we limit the parameters significantly because waves and chop makes it difficult to paddle and keep track of all the boats. Some feel more confident then others and want to race and get out of the cove. But, as they test the boundaries, they're pushed back and have to respect the situation. Mike and Jeremiah are the smallest and largest of the group, respectively, and the last tandem to come in. Mike's struggling or bored. George and I paddle next to them trying to keep them on track and finally George flings a leg over their stern as a tow. If Mike were bigger, he'd fling a leg over our bow as we all paddle. We land and head up for lunch.

During lunch, Mike and Jeremiah decide they don't want to paddle. George takes them for a walk while the rest of us go back out, this time I'm with Austin in a tandem. We realize that the game prop was left on shore so we go back to retrieve it. Meanwhile the others have a relay game underway. Austin and I catch up and start tossing the "stinky fish" object into a boat to get the game moving. Since the "stinky fish" is unwanted, the owner tosses it into another boat and so it goes. Austin lets Demetri and Ryan know that we're comin' for them and long-balls the "sf" but it plops just beyond their boat. Demetri reaches out with his paddle to pull in the the "sf" and we're suddenly looking at the bottom of their boat. Ryan pops up but no sign of Demetrie. I can't believe that I'm now in the middle of a real rescue of kids whose nerves we've tried to calm with the "rare occurrence" scenario. I'm riveted to the boat and surrounding water and immensely grateful that I'm with Austin who is the #1 rescue go-to guy. It's amazing how many thoughts pour through your brain in split seconds. I'm intently focused on the boat and on Ryan who, calm and treading water in his PFD, tells us that Demetrie can't swim and I want Austin to go get him. As I think it, my boat rocks as Austin dives. He lifts up the canoe and there is Demetrie, looking calm, having been in the air pocket under the boat. Calm has so far been the Demetrie look with occasional hints of a smile in his eyes and on his mouth, and one big smile that I caught while he was on the water. I yell encouragements that he did all the right things but, in fact, he may have had no options. Never having been in the situation, I really don't know but I do know that encouragement is primary. Austin is talking with Demetrie, assessing his physical and emotional state, guiding him over to the rocky wall we have moved to in the current. I talk with Ryan and ask him to keep a hand on the rocks though he says he can swim. PFDs are doing their jobs. The rest of our group does its job by securing the floating canoe. I continue cross draws to position the tandem and Austin tells Demetrie that he wants him to get back into the boat with Eileen and we'll get him back to shore. It's official. I'm part of a rescue and a team. While I might have otherwise been concerned about the unusual rocking of the boat when Austin dove and Demetrie climbed aboard, now I just hold the boat in place with my paddle and let my body rock with the boat. This situation is beyond myself and I'd better pull through. I ask Demetrie if he is ready to go and we start across the cove, through the waves that, gratefully, have lessened. Somewhat guiltily, I assume Demetrie will paddle, figuring it will help us cross, give him something to do, and generate his body heat.

When we get to shore, he is shivering but hesitant to change out of his wet clothes. I tell him he really needs to put on a collection of dry clothes and his teacher indicates he should listen to me because I apparently exude some sense of knowing authority. Beth and Austin have told us that in such situations we must take on an authoritarian leadership style to instill confidence that all is under control. My identity has evolved. . . at least conditionally. Ryan changes when he arrives. We get a picture of Austin doing his change-up behind the towel curtain (will display when uploaded). I ask Demetrie what he was thinking about when he was under the boat, assuming life concerning thoughts. "My cell phone," he says. Oh, no. He brought his, too. I had suggested that Ryan leave his electronics on shore but he pocketed them. Did he really think the mesh PFD pocket would offer protection? His phone is frozen and IPOD questionable. Jake later said that Demetrie was texting while in his boat.

While waiting for clothing changes, we get students to answer evaluation questions. Based on answers to the statement, "I never thought I would. . . ," we can tell who was a dry bystander and who got wet. Jake handles the subsequent debrief. What's your high point, low point, and one word to describe the day. Everyone seems to be at least satisfied if not downright happy with their day of learning the basics of canoeing and being on the water. Even Demetrie initiates handshakes, sincere by the duration and grip, looking us in the eye to thank us.

I feel something wanting in the parting after the drama. I wonder about feelings of the students in the next day or two. Austin and I talk in the van about the lost phones and how important they are for students to stay connected in their worlds. We aren't sure that Demetrie has the resources or support to get another phone. On the ride, the group decides to hold our debrief at the Wagon Wheel where we talk over late lunches. I say I'd like to write to Elaine to see how they're doing. Austin tells us that we did a great job, should be pleased with the day and then gets down to the nitty-gritty things we missed or could do differently next time. As usual, I wish I had paper to take notes.

So, our first field work had drama. The next field work will likely be rock climbing and challenge courses, our focus for the next two weeks. Feels ripe for drama! But the next two days are kayaking and wet exits--jargon for deliberately capsizing our boats.