It’s a beautiful late-summer morning on the first expedition of Semester 41. Our plan for the day is to hike five easy miles—generally downhill and entirely on-trail—to the small town of Twin Lakes. The students are in charge.
About halfway through the hike, the Leader of the Day (LOD) stops to examine the map. “I think we’ve gone too far” she announces. My co-instructor and I exchange a knowing glance. We have not gone too far, and if we simply continue on this well-marked trail, we will arrive at our X within the hour. But we stay silent.
The students discuss their options. Eventually they decide to leave the trail and bushwack their way to Twin Lakes. At first, the going is relatively smooth, but soon we find ourselves at the edge of a vast swamp. Impossible to circumnavigate, the students decide to hike right into the bog. The ground quickly becomes muddy, at times nearly sucking our boots off as we yank to extract our feet. The branches are so dense that it is often impossible to advance. When we can force our way through the brush, our arms and legs are scratched by branches and thorns. The swarming bugs show us no mercy.
Later, during our debrief at Twin Lakes, we break down each decision that led to our “slog through the bog.” We discuss “group think” and the common follower tendancy to not second guess a leader. The students take our feedback to heart, and for the remainder of the trip we watch future LODs foster more collaborative navigation discussions, dead-set on avoiding the errors that led to the swamp fiasco.
I think back to the moment when my co-instructor looked at each other, silently agreeing not to intervene. We knew that we were taking the harder path. But we also knew that failure is one of the strongest tools that we, as educators, can offer.
At HMI, we create intentional opportunities for our students to fail. Whenever possible, we let them make their own decisions and mistakes, even when it means trudging into a swamp. Afterall, a few scratches, bug bites, and muddy boots will teach a far more powerful lesson than any words of advice we can offer.
This article originally appeared in the Spring 2019 Newsletter.