Backcountry Review Issue No. 7 by Miller Integrated Nature Experience

Backcountry Review Live free and transcend

Issue No. 7

Gavin Branch examines racial disparities in skiing Chris Burkard rethinks adventure Winona LaDuke’s green path

TABLE OF CONTENTS 20

Going Green

Discovering Gyotaku

Breaking Barriers

Irregular Company

Cover photo by Chris Burkard

Chris Burkard

STAFF Editor-in-Chief Niamh Houston

Road To Recovery

Innovative Education

Copy Editors Taja Kester Charles Villeneuve Feature Editor Neil Weiss Managing Editors Gavin Branch Jayden Crain Iris Ramirez-Alvarez Writers Raven Biskup Jay Bramhall Noah Durbin Jordan Gallardo Abi Kasper Tiana Littlejohn Delaney McLaughlin Olivia Morgan Emily Ordway Althea Sterup Isabella Vahala Creative Director Cynthia Martinez-Bautista Photo Editor Sarah Karr Designers Jalen Forman Gabriela Martinez-Contreras Photograhers Samia Fentress Penelope Revett Piper Sugg Adviser Ivan Miller

THE NEED FOR PLAY Boston College professor and bestselling author Peter Gray highlights the importance of play in children’s lives. Jayden Crain

ver since I learned how to read I formed an opinion about school and the ways we learn as children. To put 25 energetic 8-year-olds in a classroom for seven hours a day, while a teacher drones on about Marco Polo, doesn’t seem like the best way to teach kids. My own experience in education, being a student for 13 years, has cemented in my brain another opinion: school is boring. Boring in the ways that it teaches us, boring in the ways of standardized tests, and boring in the way that it fails many of us. It doesn’t have to be that way. Author of Free to Learn: Why Unleashing the Instinct to Play Will Make Our Children Happier, More Self-Reliant, and Better Students for Life and Boston College professor Peter Gray has spent much of his career researching the importance of children’s play. His work argues that children should be educated in a natural way and that schools should give children more time to play outside instead of giving them homework. Professor Gray also feels the flaws he sees in today’s schooling, like homework and tests, are grounds for change in the United States. Play, in its original (free) form, first began to decline in the 1950’s when children played outside much more. Gray

says, “we’ve gradually removed play from children’s lives, and now put them in situations where they are always more or less in school. It didn’t happen all at once, it was gradually changing over time... If it happened all at once people would freak out.” Back in the mid to late 20th century, children were always outside playing and exploring. Nowadays, children are almost never outside, and when they are they participate in adult-led activities like sports and supervised play. Whenever an adult is involved in children’s play it is not play. Play must be initiated by children and evolve around them as well. Throughout the last eight decades schools have slowly removed play from children’s lives and replaced it with schoolwork. Instead of going home after school and playing with friends, children have to do homework and study for the next quiz or test. Kids naturally want to explore and play, but we’ve stripped them of this and replaced it with more school. “Because it didn’t happen all at once they’ve managed to gradually change the amount of hours and days and weeks of children’s school, not to mention the amount of homework,” says Gray. “They’ve changed recess, and the

lunch hour is no longer an hour. And because it’s gradual, people barely noticed it from one generation to the next, one decade to the next. So it’s been a creaking change.”

Throughout my education I’ve realized what types of things helped me to learn the most. Things like woodshop, metals, and autoshop have all helped me understand the physical world better. It doesn’t have to be career and technical education, though. Science labs are a great example of hands-on learning because they are an almost perfect blend of classroom education and a physical learning experience. Schools should start children off young with something they can see and feel to better understand. I know that school can be improved because I’ve had numerous hands-on science projects as a student. In fifth grade, I had the time of my life learning about energy and motion with the famous egg drop project in Mr. Smith’s science class. He climbed up a 16-foot ladder and dropped all of our projects onto the pavement. I learned what types of projects survived and which ones failed, and most importantly why they failed. From that day on I realized the value in this approach. Gray has studied the idea of play for decades and has come to realize just how important it is for children growing up in America. He has also studied what is harmful to children and why we should replace those things with

better learning tools. Gray highlighted that the education system produces people who can remember things and statistics instead of people who can think for themselves and imagine freely. “We’ve developed this obsession with tests and test scores,” says Gray. “We have this obsession with these multiple choice tests and all we’re doing is testing your ability to give particular feedback and give particular answers of what you’ve been taught in a memorized way, usually. And this is not what our world looks like. This is not what the world needs today. We need people who are creative, who are critical thinkers, and you really can’t test for those things.”

If this last year has taught students anything, it’s that going outside and learning about the world is a lot more interesting than sitting inside all day and learning about the past. Classrooms have experienced, firsthand, what it’s like to lack social interaction completely and have the teacher be the sole presenter. It’s been rough on both teachers and students because it’s an extreme version of what’s been going on in schools for years. This push might help us all realize that school can be better, for students and educators alike. Gray says, “I think the primary thing we can do is to go in the opposite direction that we have gone in before. All the time children are spending at school and doing homework,

let’s start decreasing that to give them more free time to play and let them do what they naturally want to do. You can’t teach creativity, but you can kill it. What we’re doing right now is killing it.” In his Aeon magazine article “The Play Deficit,” Gray states that anxiety and depression have increased as children started spending more time in school. “Analyses of the results reveal a continuous, essentially linear, increase in anxiety and depression in young people over the decades, such that the rates of what today would be diagnosed as generalised anxiety disorder and major depression are five to eight times what they were in the 1950s,” he writes. Today’s students mainly just know how to do school and rarely get the time to play freely with other kids, and it isn’t a surprise that creativity and morale are low. Students are judged because of a letter grade or a test score, which leads some down the path of not wanting to try anymore, leaving many with low academic self-esteem. Play is how children build communication skills and creativity, but if school takes up a child’s life then it’s much harder for them to grow intellectually. “Play is always creative, you’re always creating your activities through play,” says Gray. “You’re always creating situations, and you’re living in that situation in your play world, and while you’re playing there’s a creative aspect to it. So it should be no surprise that as we deprive children of their play their creative ability declines.” Play is necessary for young children because it builds

foundational skills and helps children adjust to social situations with friends and at school. Play isn’t something that we can control, only something that we can support. We can support play by letting children go outside to help them build skills without responsibility and anxiety. We can teach them hands-on education to help them better understand the world. For the past year, we have all been trapped in the world of COVID-19. This has been devastating for young children, as now more than ever they should socialize with friends and play freely. Online school has failed them, stripping away all social interaction with peers, preventing them from forming meaningful memories. During this rebuilding stage, we can shape our school system to support creativity and give children the play time they need. The Miller Integrated Nature Experience (MINE) at Springfield High School has had to battle to keep moving in these virtual times. For the longest time we’ve been restricted to online school only, but that hasn’t stopped us from building our magazine and telling stories. Niamh Houston brings awareness to climate change through her story about a beautiful art form called Gyotaku, Sarah Karr reflects on the education system by looking at it from the outside, and Gavin Branch talks about the lack of racial diversity in the sport of skiing. No matter the circumstances, MINE remains dedicated to publishing a magazine that represents all of our hard work, while maintaining some sense of creative freedom, and we haven’t let COVID-19 stop us so far.

“We need people who are creative, who are critical thinkers, and you really cannot test for those things.” Contributed

- Peter Gray

Unplugged Feeling trapped and tied to technology, Iris RamirezAlvarez examines a world disconnected from nature. Iris Ramirez-Alvarez

found myself standing at the top of the world on Spencer Butte. I hiked all the way up to get a glimpse of Eugene and Springfield. I balanced on a big rock with my muddy sneakers, letting the scorching hot sun sting my back, wrapping me in its warmth. The sky was a soft shade of blue, no clouds in sight. I could see miles upon miles from where I stood. The world looked so small and harmless. I could see trees, a variety of them. There were small trees, tall trees, trees with no leaves, and trees that were covered in green. The world had never looked so peaceful. The fresh smell of flowers, the sound of birds chirping as they soared through the sky, and the breeze flowing through my hair all overwhelmed my senses. I felt peace, a feeling that had become so foreign. I looked behind me and saw the big city. I could hear so much more from that direction. I pictured the sound of cars

Piper Sugg

racing down the streets, the flashing of open signs turning on and off throughout the day, and the loud vibrant noise that came from the crowds of people going about their day. It was the opposite of nature. There was no sense of relief or peace. At that moment, I did not want to go back. I was overcome by a wave of sadness. I didn’t belong in the city. I was happier here, without worry or responsibility. I wanted to wait for the sky to turn into a mix of warm oranges and pinks until the stars appeared and the night had taken over the world. As much as I wished to stay on top of this mountain, I couldn’t stay forever. Just like everybody else, I had obligations. I was a daughter, a student, and a person who was just starting their life, and had to work to survive. The following day, my head rested against the white frame of my bedroom window as I stared out onto my street waiting for something exciting to happen. The now

familiar view of the same houses bored me. The only time I enjoyed looking through my window was when the weather fluctuated as the seasons passed. Everything else remained the same. I had only been in this house for a couple months, and I had already memorized everything about the street. My bedroom window was small, but it was on the second floor which allowed me to look out into my neighborhood. Right in front of me was my neighbor’s pink house which blocked the view of the rest of the houses. Their garden had pink hibiscus flowers decorating every inch of their yard, and a ton of other plants whose names remained a mystery. I could faintly hear the sound of the cars passing by the perfectly cemented road. It was no different than every other house I had lived in. I was a part of a family of six, including my feisty beige and white puppy. Like every other typical family, we had our differences and most of the time went on about our days. Of my two sisters, the oldest went to work almost every day, while I stayed behind to take care of the youngest. With my parents constantly at work, it gave me time to be alone and daydream. But in reality I was stuck at home during a pandemic with nothing to do but school work. The only time I ever felt a sense of excitement was when I left the house, no matter the destination. My life had never felt so repetitive. It was a daily cycle, waking up, dealing with the world, and falling asleep in the comfort of my cozy room. Life felt like a constant pattern, as if everything was planned out for me. As a result, a tension with societal expectations threatens to overwhelm me. The way I talk, what I wear, and how I act seem predetermined, creating conflict with who I really am. I feel exhausted. I want change. I pondered a world without judgement.

If I could change anything, I would rid the world of hate. It’s normal for people to judge, to be so invested in their lives rather than seeing value in others. Without noticing, we separate ourselves from the natural world and we don’t give each other, or ourselves, time to heal and grow, even though we’re all so similar. The world seems full of disappointment. Not one day goes by that I don’t feel against the world. There seems to be more time for hate than for love. I feel like I cannot breathe. But when I visit nature I see how things are so connected. We’re just like trees. We grow up, we create families, and they create branches, providing homes for the little creatures of the world. They give oxygen, create shade, even beauty, and constantly give back to the larger environment. For us, our environment is our community, and sometimes we fail to give back to it. Instead of coming together as a whole, we often focus only on individual success. We are defined by our accomplishments, as well as our mistakes. But what might matter most is connecting to something bigger than ourselves. The world can be cruel, but I always come back to nature. No matter where I am, whether it’s sitting by a river, hiking a trail, or laying against a tree, a haven awaits. I walk a new path that leads to more green beauty. I feel as though nothing can touch me, or harm me. I feel okay. The flowers don’t judge what I wear, the grass doesn’t care about what I say, and the sky doesn’t care about what I do. Nature won’t judge me. Standing here, I can be myself. I can live. Not only is nature my escape from the world, it’s a place I can share with everyone, for it brings me back to reality, reminding me of what matters most.

Iris Ramirez-Alvarez surrounds herself with nature at Hendricks Park.

BLENDING WORLDS Lynny Brown and Barton Robison create opportunities for equitable access to nature. Althea Sterup

regon Health and Outdoors Initiative Partner Lynny Brown grew up in the city and had little interaction with what she thought of as nature. She says, “nature was something that other people did,” people who were more privileged and had more money. However, she remembers, “as a city girl growing up, I did have experience outdoors in the public parks or even the park outside of our apartment. We had a little green space and I would spend long summer days just digging in the sand and catching frogs and running around barefoot in the swampy, disgusting, muddy pond that probably had urban runoff in it.” Brown wanted to be a park ranger growing up, and though that plan did not pan out, she is now an advocate for the outdoors through the Oregon Health and Outdoors Initiative, an organization designed “to connect communities to the benefits that being outside and spending time in nature provides,” while prioritizing working with groups experiencing health inequities. It proves quite difficult for some people to even visit nature. Brown says, “there are certain communities that experience more barriers or injustices in accessing the outdoors or natural spaces. For communities of color, it might not be safe to go for a run. For low-income communities, maybe there’s not a park within a 10-minute walk from their house. So there are certain communities

Contributed

that experience inequities as a result of centuries of economic exclusion and oppression, and being unwelcome into these natural spaces.” The Oregon Health and Outdoors Initiative work to make the outdoors accessible to everybody. Most of their current projects work to create more safe green spaces, especially for kids. Brown is currently helping to build an outdoor preschool. Preparation included visiting outdoor preschools and playing with the kids. They showed her structures they made and she was “getting to crawl through them” as well as “running through the mud with them [and] finding salamanders.”

Barton Robison—co-Health and Outdoors Partner—holds a favorite memory of a project in which he and Brown were involved. In an effort to make the outdoors more accessible to Oregonians with disabilities, The Oregon Health and Outdoors Initiative—partnering with Oregon Parks & Recreation, Adventures Without Limits, and Oregon Spinal Cord Injury Connection—hosted a camping trip for wheelchair users in 2018. Robison remembered a moment where 20 different people were out on a lake in kayaks during that trip and “it just started pouring rain on us,” he says. “But it was so cool. And I was like, ‘oh my gosh, this is

Oregon Health and Outdoors Initiative partner Lynny Brown prepares for an alpine hike.

my job.’” Robison works hard to promote nature’s benefits to others, stating that “when I was in college, I had really serious mental health problems and really was struggling with coming out and forming my own identity, and ended up in the hospital because of that for a little while. So when I was kind of recovering from that... I spent a lot of time outside and just realized how important that was for my mental health, but also for my spiritual health, just to be able to be out in nature and to feel kind of a part of something bigger than myself.” He is helping to make a green schoolyard and public park in Chiloquin, Oregon. Robison says they are building “a brand new playground for the kids at school, with a lot of natural elements like trees and native habitat added. And then it will also be open to the community as a public park during non-school hours.” Brown is doing something similar by promoting outdoor preschools and working to give preschoolers an appreciation for nature and being outside. She says they have “been doing that by looking at policy changes” and putting “together tool kits for preschool providers to use to make their spaces more accessible and equitable, and we’re just doing a lot of networking to try and promote all the benefits of spending time outside, especially at such a critical age of 0 to 5.” Giving young kids the ability to learn about and enjoy nature can have far-reaching effects when they are older, and can promote a healthier lifestyle. Almost all outdoor activities involve some physical exertion. According to The Journal of the American Medical Association, in a study led by Thijs Eijsvogels and Paul Thompson, “even a small amount of exercise may have substantial health benefits compared with being sedentary.” These benefits include preventing “heart and blood vessel disease, diabetes, dementia, and even some types of cancer.” Being outside also inherently means being out in the sunshine, meaning exposure to critical vitamin D, and according to the Journal of Pharmacology and Pharmacotherapeutics, “vitamin D insufficiency affects almost 50% of the population worldwide. An estimated 1 billion people worldwide, across all ethnicities and age groups, have a vitamin D deficiency.” This can cause heart disease and high blood pressure, diabetes, infections, and immune system disorders, as well as some types of cancer, such as colon, prostate, and breast cancers. Encouraging time outside is an excellent way to reduce those numbers. Dutch researchers in the Journal of Epidemiology and Community Health found that living close to parks, or at the very least trees, can have strong positive effects on mental health. Additionally, living without those things can negatively affect your mental well-being. They also found that the study “stresses the importance of green

space close to home for children and lower socioeconomic groups” because those groups were most susceptible to the effects of the study. Nature can also relieve stress. A study from The Scandinavian Journal of Forest Research found that office workers with windows showing forest views had higher self-reported levels of job satisfaction and lower levels of stress than did workers without that greenery. Another study from the University of Michigan looked into the effects of walking in nature as opposed to walking in an urban setting. The subjects who walked in nature performed significantly better in memory-related tasks than the other group. Even with all these clear benefits, some people are still not receiving vital time outdoors, and it may not be entirely their fault. Some people face health inequities that make it very difficult to get to the outdoors. These also tend to be the people that need those benefits the most because they often have more mental and physical health complications as a direct result of the problems that make it so hard to access green spaces. Even with increased efforts to make green spaces accessible to everyone, those lucky enough to venture outside don’t always do so. Societal exclusions are not the only reason that people don’t get outside, for sometimes society does not view these needs as vital. People prioritize productivity so much that they tend to ignore the body’s needs. Many would say that they are just too busy to spend time outside, even if they want to. For the busy bee, Robison stressed the importance of habit building. He said, especially lately, “we have to go to school on a screen, we have to work on a screen, but I always try to walk my dog at least once a day for half an hour. [...] and having that as kind of my accountability check has been really important.” If everyone makes an effort to create these small changes in life, Brown says that “you start to normalize that. Taking time to chill outdoors is a thing that we should value and we should put our mental health, our physical health, and our community health probably above productivity.” The past year has been stressful for just about everybody, but it has given many people more time to reflect on the state of their physical and mental health. Building habits centered around outdoor time proves critical, which might make navigating stressful and difficult times just a little bit easier. Want to find out more about the Oregon Health and Outdoors Initiative? Contact Barton Robison or check out their website! robison@willamettepartnership.org healthandoutdoors.org

SOLIVAGANT Mavrik Joos seeks happiness and meaning while living in a truck.

Charles Villeneuve

avrik Joos is a YouTube content creator with over 760,000 subscribers and has made a name for himself as a professional outdoorsman. He is most known for his truck-camping, fishing, cooking videos, and winter vlogs. Joos isn’t your average run-ofthe-mill Van-Lifer who makes a mockery of the lifestyle through overzealous showmanship but rather a regular guy who simply relishes his newfound freedom by sharing his honest “truck life” and not glamorizing the artificial market many #Van-Life enthusiasts have peddled. Joos travels the open road in an effort to see as much of this world as possible, from the frozen lakes of Michigan to the scorching red rock near Moab. The idea to live out of a truck first sprouted when he took a trip to California to visit a friend living in a boat. The idea of living in a marina intrigued Joos. The simple but non-tethered lifestyle offers plenty of opportunities to experience the world and not be restricted to a single city. Bound by few possessions and carrying no excess baggage, he can pack up any time he wishes. “I sort of had the idea in my head when I was in college and thought about it,” says Joos. “I wanted to do a road trip to California and just travel. So I thought about how I could travel for as cheap as possible and go around and see interesting stuff.” Now he cooks and sleeps out of his truck, giving him plenty of freedom and time to go wherever he might take an interest. “I like to take advantage of the seasons,” says Joos. “If you like the cold then go where it’s cold. With no ties, you can just pack your house up and leave, go where it’s a good fishing season, and experience warm or cold

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weather.” Joos loves sharing his life with his followers, offering a “raw and real” view of what it is like to live in a truck. However, modern media loves to romanticize van life, showing an unrealistic depiction of what it is like to live out of a vehicle. “I wouldn’t recommend it to the people who want it for the sexy, glamorous life looking at it through rose-tinted glasses… If you are nervous or have trouble making split-second decisions then that’s a red flag right there,” says Joos. “It takes a certain personality. It’s cool that people are interested, but some for the wrong reasons.” Even Joos admits to sometimes subconsciously trimming out the bad stuff when editing videos, which does not even come close to how filtered professionally made Van-life videos are when they are designed to sell a product or service. The “Van-Life” was originally created by Foster Huntington in 2010 as a joke based on Tupac’s tattoo “Thug Life.” Huntington himself, not being of the rough and dirty group, but rather a former New York fashion designer, revealed a “dirty” lifestyle he described as classy as “pissing in a cup.” It showed the unglamorous side of living in a van. It never was meant to be the big, trendy, front page for the millennial living with avocado toast, yoga, and sponsorships. In 2013, Huntington began this van life trend by immediately marketing it, selling a $65 picture book featuring all his meticulously cherry-picked photos, romanticizing the whole trend. Now vans are marketed for van living on the weekend to escape from home or work. Commercials nowadays, without fail, show an attractive actor driving their vehicle

away from the city in dark, luscious forests, promoting an adventurous spirit free from all of society’s strings, even though its sole purpose is selling consumers something for a profit. The van life community itself is almost non-existent off of social media, true explorers are few and far between. Joos himself admits to having difficulty with this lack of interaction, void of any true sense of community. “I’m still overcoming the lack of a sense of community/feeling. You don’t have deep connections with people,” says Joos. “I don’t know them or will be able to get to know them, not like where if you are settled you know people and have a place.” Most #Van-Life posts seem to be the same, with the stereotypical attractive couple and their dog posting up in less than fully clothed shots with their state of the art “van” giving an unrealistically biased view to gain sponsorship or sell a product all while giving off the illusion of freedom by

including the accompanying beauties of nature—sea, sky, and trees. This draws on the natural desire to go outside, explore the world, and find peace far from the constricting tyranny of everyday living. This kind of marketing can be detrimental to the unassuming average Joe, that is, it cuts out all the real stuff, which might be the best part of the experience. Waking with the dawn, and cooking your breakfast while watching the sunrise is the first thing Joos does in the morning, without the ordinary comforts of a regular house. For Joos, the good always outweighs the bad. The ability

to see it all makes it an enjoyable experience despite the cramped spaces. Going out and traveling on your own means living differently and learning new things. This kind of learning while you live approach of being self-reliant builds character. “I’ve learned how much being alone and being able to depend on yourself makes you a better friend or person to be around,” says Joos. “I feel like I’m much more a piece of the puzzle and able to help out. It’s rewarding when I complete these things by myself.” The ability to solve problems and build the necessary skills to make due is fundamental to what it means to be free. If one spends their whole life having others help them they might never develop the ability to help themselves. The killer of any real sense of self is conformity, or rather the act of shunning what the heart desires and succumbing to outside expectations. People for the last 200 years have been

examining the human condition, thinking about how best to live our lives. Nonconformists such as Ralph Waldo Emerson suggest people find their own way. The fondness Joos feels for living untethered is key for finding happiness. If people spend their whole life controlled by others or their circumstances it might feel as though they aren’t truly living. For Joos, he has discovered his own unique place in life. “I feel like I am free out there,” says Joos. “When I traveled with someone else it felt like I was just going along as if there was a different force driving me. I never really felt like I pushed myself. I didn’t feel like I reached my full potential.” The freedom to do anything, and at a low cost, makes living in a truck truly enjoyable for Joos, and it may just be a clue as to how to best avoid getting caught up in the rut of everyday, repetitive slumps so many people find themselves in.

Julie Haack, emeritus professor of green chemistry, sits at the University of Oregon.

Going Green Julie Haack helps implement green chemistry at the University of Oregon. Jay Bramhall

any recognize the solace that can be found in the books shelved in a library, a reprieve from the frustrations and chaos of daily life. This staggering access to knowledge—more than any one individual could ever hope to comprehend—proved fruitful for Jim Hutchison, a professor at the University of Oregon, as he roamed the aisles of textbooks and novels pondering the predicament facing the students and faculty of various science departments across the country. The problem at hand had scholars in the lab being exposed to potentially hazardous chemicals over extended periods of time. With smaller class sizes and more time in the day, it would be possible to limit such harmful exposure, but the university did not possess the resources required to do so. Something had to change, a necessity that led Hutchison to search the library for answers. At the time, the library displayed its newest additions on a shelf for all to see. Hutchison came across Paul Anastas’ text Green Chemistry: Theory and Practice, which explained a form of science where chemistry could be executed in a manner that proved safer for both scientists and the environment. Hutchison had found his answer, and the science faculty decided to implement an entirely new curriculum, and he would help create it. Julie Haack, a now-retired professor from the University of Oregon, aided in curating the new curriculum. Currently, she is diving into work as a life coach to guide others in implementing sustainability into their day-to-day activities, sharing an intimate view into the world of green chemistry,

Piper Sugg

which refers to the practice of reducing the negative impact on the environment through a renovation of processes used for the production and manufacturing of products. An avid outdoorsman and environmental enthusiast, Haack explains green chemistry as “this idea of how do we preserve our playground?” The story of green chemistry truly began 30 years ago. NASA’s director of the Institute for Space Studies, Dr. James Hansen, testified in front of Congress prompting them to address the environmental crisis. Before this point, the negative effect humans had on the environment had gone largely undiscussed. It was only with the pressure from Hansen’s compelling testimony that Congress was urged to take the first step into declaring climate change as a national issue, henceforth sparking a serious conversation that remains heavily debated to this day. Two years later the Pollution Prevention Act was developed, determining that pollution should be stopped at the source, opposed to the existing practice of treatment and disposal. The creation of the act forced science to adapt something entirely new and unseen, resulting in a field of science dedicated to halting climate change in its tracks. It gave people the ability to get ahead of these unrelenting calamities, not simply struggle to keep pace. This race was one science was determined to win, and developing the field of green chemistry could allow it to do so. Annually, green chemistry eliminates approximately 826 million pounds of hazardous substances, saves over 21 billion gallons of water, and eradicates 7.8 billion pounds

of carbon dioxide released into the air. While implementing such a field has proven benefits, doing so was easier said than done, a challenge that the University of Oregon readily tackled. “It was really early in the process,” says Haack. “And there weren’t very many educational materials that had been developed.” In 1997, the university implemented green chemistry on campus through a two-term lab sequence taught by Hutchison and Ken Doxsee. The sequence included two groups of 12 students who shouldered the responsibility of the emerging field. Their willingness to explore uncharted territory laid the foundation for the future of the research done at the university. This initial course opened floodgates of possibility. Mankind could now attain a future in which the world was not doomed to suffer under their existence. For the university, all it took was one class to direct the tides of change in the planet’s favor. Today, a considerable number of courses introduce and explore the principles of green chemistry. Haack was a primary instructor for many of these classes. She offered courses both for experienced students and those taking their first steps into the world of green chemistry. “The most important thing to me for education was recognizing and learning how to communicate chemistry, especially green chemistry, to non-scientists so they feel like they can contribute,” she says. These classes consisted of more than just chemistry, incorporating other fields of study outside of the science departments. Doing so drastically enhanced the capabilities of green chemistry by broadening its impact and reach. “The idea was to bring business students, journalism students, design students, and science students together at the point of invention,” says Haack, “so that you invent differently.” Introducing green chemistry radicalized the opportunities for education and innovation at the University of Oregon. In the almost 25 years that green chemistry has been present on campus, substantial scientific advancements have been made on the educational front. The university uses molecular-level design and nanoscience to uncover and repurpose characteristics of nanoparticles to be utilized on a safer, more efficient level. The lab includes an extensive archive of nanoparticles that are used to analyze and assess new green materials. Research in the lab has focused on

developing new processes of nanofabrication, as well as usage of heterogeneous catalysts and biomolecular nanolithography. For a more digestible look into green chemistry, the Nike shoe is a perfect example. The initial Nike design had a shoe made of leather that not only wasted material, but was hot, heavy, and overall proved difficult to work with. The solution to all of these problems was knitted shoes. Haack compared it to baking: “everything you put into the pot, goes into the product.” Ultimately, the result was a product that was much easier to work with and produced minimal waste. Transitioning to manufacturing knitted shoes meant that Nike could produce shoes that were lighter and better adapted to pushing athletes to the peak of their performance. Industries all over the world have similar stories such as these, where a product that was once detrimental to the health of the environment has now been remodeled to have a positive impact. Amongst all of this evolution, an important question remains: Is it enough? Watching the news and viewing the seemingly inevitable tragedies of climate change around the world can feel overwhelming. In 2017, the United Nations Economic Commission for Europe credited air pollution with over seven million fatalities per year, while the Lancet Commission estimated it was responsible for around nine million premature deaths in 2015. The change is apparent in a state like Oregon, where the rainy season used to feel like a year-long endeavor. Now, wildfires ravage the landscape to the point of displacing entire communities. It is understandable to find such a rapid transformation demoralizing in its vastness. There is an urgency to fix the problem in any way possible. Whether through recycling proper materials, conserving water usage, or simply avoiding single-use plastics, people all around the world are making an effort. “The world is chaotic,” says Haack. “You could win, you could lose—you may need to win on seven fronts instead of one. So, the only path forward that has any hope of succeeding—is to keep trying.” Green chemistry implements this idea by allowing scientists and nonscientists alike to communicate in a way that promotes action. People have been given the resources necessary to shift the tides of change, it is now in their hands to do so.

Illustrated by Niamh Houston

The Seventh Fire Winona LaDuke models sustainability and environmental consciousness while fighting against the Enbridge pipelines. Niamh Houston

n 2016, thousands of indigenous peoples and allies stood in resistance to the Dakota Access Pipeline at Standing Rock in North Dakota. Enbridge, the largest pipeline company in the world, started construction on their 1,172-mile-long oil pipeline, but were immediately met by protesters who argued that the project would compromise the future of local residents. In the United States, the rights of corporations seem to have long preceded the rights of mother nature and the rights of people. This was proven at Standing Rock. “Police were shooting rubber bullets and tear gas and water cannons at people to protect the rights of an energy corporation to put in a pipeline,” says environmental activist Winona LaDuke. A member of the White Earth band of Ojibwe in Minnesota, LaDuke has dedicated her career to protecting the planet, using an indigenous perspective to do so. In 1989, she founded the White Earth Land Recovery Project, which works to buy back reservation land from non-natives and recultivate native plants. Laduke is also executive director of Honor The Earth, an organization that encourages support and funding for native environmental groups while promoting renewable energy, sustainable development, and environmental justice. In 1996 and 2000, LaDuke ran for vice president of the United States with Ralph Nader of the Green Party. In 2016, she became the first Native American woman and the first Green Party member to receive an Electoral College vote for vice

president. LaDuke has also had a long history battling Enbridge. “I attended every legislative hearing… Our organization filed lawsuits, our tribes filed lawsuits. I have tried to make this system work for seven years,” says LaDuke. Currently, LaDuke is battling Enbridge’s replacement of Line 3, a tar-sands oil pipeline, whose new path threatens to carve through over 200 bodies of water and 800 wetlands in Northern Minnesota. Line 3 puts fragile waterways and treaty territories in jeopardy of potential oil spills and pollution. This was already proven in 1991, when a corroded pipe of Line 3 caused the largest inland oil spill in American history. A similar catastrophe occurred in 2007, when a section of the pipeline exploded, killing two people. Activists have already gathered at the construction site to protest. “The only way that we’re going to save these rivers is if we have enough people out there that they decide it’s a bad idea to tear gas us all,” says LaDuke. “It’s a really tragic thing.” As the world makes the transition from fossil fuels to renewable energy sources, it feels appropriate to question projects that might jeopardize fragile ecosystems in what appears to be a dying industry. The new proposed line 3 path would cut through treaty territories of the Ojibwe people and put their environment at risk for pollution and oil spills. Potential losses like this prove critical because about 80 percent of the world’s

biodiversity is located where indigenous peoples currently reside. In her book All Our Relations: Native Struggles For Land and Life, LaDuke explains: “There is a direct relationship between the loss of cultural diversity and the loss of biodiversity. Wherever indigenous peoples still remain, there is also a corresponding enclave of biodiversity.” In order to restore the earth and protect life itself, LaDuke suggests people leave wild places alone, free of development and pollution.

The Anishinaabe, a group of indigenous peoples which includes the Ojibwe, have a prophecy of seven fires that depicts epochs in the life of North Americans. It contains information about the futures of the Anishinaabe, which are still being fulfilled. During the time of the seventh fire, humanity will have a choice between two roads, one green and lush and the other well worn and scorched. Choose the correct road and a final fire of peace and love will ignite. Pick the wrong road and destruction and the extinction of the human race follows. For many, we currently sit at a crossroad: either continue down the well-worn path of fossil fuels and carbon emissions or choose a new path of sustainability and change. Currently, humans might trod a scorched path. People take more resources from the earth than they could ever put back. Mining, agriculture, and fossil fuels appear to exacerbate problems relating to climate change, with the current economy dependent on their success. Natural catastrophes, such as devastating wildfires and Category 5 hurricanes, appear annually and will only increase in intensity and frequency. One solution might involve a new economy, one localized and free of fossil fuels. Currently, we have a largely globalized economy that makes us dependent internationally. When consumers buy products from out of the country, the money flows out of America’s economy, leaving us outsourced and dependent on other nations for sufficiency. This feels unstable during times of crisis, making it hard to adapt. In addition, individual communities are so dependent on outside industries, that it is nearly impossible to be self-sufficient. However, the White Earth Reservation has become more resilient through localization, and might prove a model for the future. They control their own food, as well as energy and housing, and any money earned stays on the reservation. This method of localization could be implemented in urban areas. In addition, localization has allowed the White Earth Reservation to implement a petroleum-free agricultural system. They also utilize Anishinaabe farming methods,

absent of fossil fuels altogether. LaDuke also believes in natural biodiversity over genetic modification. She points to the Irish potato famine as the perfect example. “If you have one variety of potato and a blight hits it the people starve,” says LaDuke. “If you have 900 varieties of potatoes like they do in Peru… you’re going to figure out which potatoes are going to not have blight. What we want is agro-biodiversity in times of climate change and uncertainty.” LaDuke has also begun growing industrial hemp free of THC. This sustainable material alternative dissuades the hydrocarbon economy, and combats microfibers, water pollution and the toxins utilized in current cotton, nylon, and polyester clothing. “Hemp has been grown for thousands of years,” says LaDuke. “We had a pretty robust economy until hemp was criminalized with the Marijuana Prohibition Act. Now, trying to figure out the hemp economy is like a forensic puzzle because the technology isn’t really here.” In addition to a fabric alternative, fiber hemp can also replace plastics and sequester carbon. Hemp is an easy replacement for both synthetic fabrics and cotton, materials which make up most of our clothing. Cotton consumes over four times the amount of water that hemp does and takes longer to grow. Cotton also requires over two times the land for farming. Like plastics, synthetic fabrics are made from oil and contribute to microfiber pollution in dust, which we breathe in. Industrial hemp seems like a viable solution because of its versatility and sustainability. However, the industry is currently outsourced to China and serves as another argument for localization in a local economy. LaDuke has helped with the installation of solar thermal panels on homes and buildings throughout the White Earth Reservation. In addition to supplying the community with sustainable energy, the solar thermal panels also provide heating for homes in the winter months. Other indigenous reservations have implemented solar and wind energy projects that sustain entire cities. Perhaps it’s time to seek a new economy where the needs of people correlate with the needs of the earth. America might learn something from the successes of the native population. LaDuke offers a simple bit of advice for us all: “quit consuming so much and being so wasteful.” It isn’t too late to fix past mistakes and create a more meaningful, and sufficient, relationship to the land. The choice is simple, continue down the scorched path or reconnect with the green path. For now, we can all take comfort in knowing that LaDuke will continue fighting for us all.

atching massive waves and hanging around with fellow surfer buddies may sound like a lot of fun initially, but photographer Chris Burkard, filmmaker Ben Weiland, and a bunch of experienced thrill chasers were looking for a lot more than just waves in the winter of 2017. In the remote fjords of Iceland’s Hornstrandir Nature Reserve, the group searched for abnormally large waves in the dead of winter, not at all expecting the largest storm in 25 years bellowing straight for them. With nowhere to escape, the group had to wait out the storm for five days, resulting in some of the most challenging and exciting events Burkard ever faced. Burkard initially met up with Weiland and other surfers to shoot an epic travel story in Iceland, hoping to surf the best waves on that side of the equator. However, the trip did not go as planned as the storm not only derailed the trip but possibly even threatened their lives. Having no choice but to ride out the storm, they had to make a difficult decision: hope for good waves or simply return home. Burkard could not help but feel the thrill of real adventure lurking in these dire circumstances. After sticking it out, they accomplished their goal. With the Northern Lights above and some gnarly waves below, they managed to get the best shots of their careers and experienced something dangerous but rewarding, telling a story unlike anyone had ever done before.

Born in 1986 in San Luis Obispo, California, Burkard had a normal upbringing, raised by his mother and stepfather. After graduating from Arroyo Grande High School in 2004, he was exposed to photography for the first time. His big opportunity came when he shadowed landscape photographer Michael Fatali and later interned under Transworld Surfing photo editor Pete Tara. This sparked his adventurous spirit and made him want to see the world. Currently, Burkard is known for his outdoor travel photography, often filming his experience traveling to new and exciting climates like the Arctic Circle. When making films, he ponders the meaning of his subject, such as the freedom of surfing in the Arctic or trekking through Iceland. For Burkard, adventure isn’t something you can just read about in a book. To do it justice one has to see it for themselves to truly understand the vast greatness of the world. Burkard made it his mission to tell people’s stories and show people parts of the world they cannot see for themselves. Early in his practice, he realized there was more to photography, that it was a passage to the new lands that lay beyond the borders of his known world, and with the power of photography, Burkard saw new horizons. “It was

True Adventure Acclaimed photographer Chris Burkard seeks big waves and adventure in the fjords of Iceland. Charles Villeneuve

Chris Burkard

Chris Burkard photographs a surfer on a remote and beautiful Alaskan beach.

Chris Burkard stands outside his studio in Pismo Beach, California.

the byproduct of basically not traveling as a kid. I didn’t have a passport and I never really went anywhere,” says Burkard. “So it was kind of this thought of when I was younger it was like there was maybe some way I could potentially... go and see the world and (photography) was kind of a tool to get me there.” His adventures aren’t as simple as getting on a plane with a camera. Hours upon hours are needed to plan expeditions, and at times he has struggled with the idea of whether or not it is even worth it. Burkard says, “where you’re spending your time is really valuable and when you’re going away from your family it becomes more and more critical, too. It can feel like you are running away from your family, running away from places you know because you love (traveling).” Where he travels also counts, and Burkard primarily focuses on colder climates, always hoping for an increased sense of adventure. Ideally, somewhere far from civilization, somewhere not reachable by car. At first, traveling to the Caribbean, New Zealand, and Australia seemed really cool, “but there’s often like a high rise hotel right behind where we were surfing or something like that,” says Burkard. “It just kind of became really hard to deal with.” Burkard began to question what truly constituted an adventure. Was an adventure merely leaving your home country, or was it something bigger and more meaningful? He gradually arrived at his answer after a trip to the Arctic

Circle. He felt anxiety, impatience, joy, and challenge. To Burkard, adventure meant leaving your comfort zone, getting away from society, and truly being in the moment, completely focused on new surroundings. There, miles away from the nearest hotel, he felt exhilaration, a new sense of freedom. It dawned on him, he should switch to colder, more exclusive climates, away from the hustle and bustle of everyday life. As a result, Burkard felt more immersed in his surroundings, focusing more on the trip and less on unimportant things. To Burkard, adventure isn’t just a faraway, previously unknown destination. It’s that feeling of newness, experiencing the unknown, living purely in the moment with no secular distractions. All that is needed is a leap of faith. Ultimately, the most important factor is what constitutes an adventure. “I want to go to places that feel more remote, unique, more challenging, and things will be a lot harder,” says Burkard. “Somehow, someway I thought maybe I would find those answers in the cold.” He believes that by documenting these natural wonders people’s perspective widens, creating a deeper appreciation for nature. Adventure isn’t just going somewhere new but traveling somewhere unfamiliar and challenging. In Burkard’s case, it was the fjords of Iceland, the place where he felt the most stress and satisfaction. Burkard has seen only a little of this world but with adventure lurking around each corner, he’s excited to keep searching.

We Would Like To Thank Our Partners

SCHOOL OF JOURNALISM AND COMMUNICATION ENVIRONMENTAL LEADERSHIP PROGRAM

This issue of Backcountry Review is dedicated to Paul Leighton, Les Kellow, Tom Houston, Tiburcio and Simona Garcia, Juana Padilla, Felipe Conreras.

DISCOVERING GYOTAKU Dwight Hwang teaches environmental awareness through the art of gyotaku. Niamh Houston

Contributed

Dwight Hwang paints sumi ink onto the skin of a salmon.

n the back corner of Sunrise Asian Food Market, I scan the freezers: mackerel, perch, catfish, and hundreds of other marine and freshwater species sit in plastic wrap. After some lengthy indecision, I carefully select a rainbow parrotfish, a pack of squid, and a common cuttlefish. At the checkout, I impulsively grab chocolate-filled Hello Panda biscuits and have an awkward exchange with the cheery cashier as I fumble for my cash. With my arms full of fish, I head towards my car. Once inside, I cannot help but take a moment to admire my specimens. The vibrant colors of the parrotfish and the gelatinous tentacles of the cuttlefish make me begin to doubt my artistic ability. I open my box of biscuits and think, “What have I gotten myself into?” Gyotaku is the ancient Japanese art of ink fish pressings, and I’m about to experiment with it myself. Later, I cut through the plastic surrounding my fish and set it in a large bowl of warm water. The smell fills the house and overwhelms my senses. Outside, I take out the cuttlefish and attempt to dry its slippery skin off on a towel. I try my best to shape the arms and tentacles in a way that looks aesthetically pleasing. The ink easily applies to the skin of the fish, although it takes me an exceptionally long time to coat the entire surface. I grab my rice paper and set it over the cuttlefish and press down all over the body and then carefully lift it back off. The imprint of the cuttlefish is defined and elegant, as if time had frozen on the canvas. I cannot help but feel a connection to the animals I am handling.

For centuries, people have used gyotaku to depict the naturally detailed forms of fish for bragging rights. Today, it is used to teach the importance of conservation and

healthy environmental practices. California artist Dwight Hwang has mastered the process, and his unique gyotaku style has earned him credible recognition from historians and scholars of the art. “I first came across gyotaku art pinned to the walls of a dusty fishing tackle shop in Tokyo,” says Hwang. “I fell in love with its simple aesthetic. What a wonderful way to commemorate a memorable catch, I thought.” From there, experimentation and countless YouTube tutorials led to a career that he now shares with his wife. Originally, gyotaku was used by Japanese fishermen catering to an illiterate crowd in the mid 1800’s. “Instead of writing on wood displays of what the daily offerings were, the vendors would print one of the fish and display the print for those who would otherwise be unable to read,” says Hwang. “According to the archives and displayed historical pieces at the Honma Museum, a samurai lord… named Sakai who enjoyed fishing, would task his court calligrapher to document his catch. This continued until the calligrapher, rather than simply writing about it, took the ink and brushed the fish to create an undeniable record.” The original gyotaku method is unique in its simplicity. Sumi, traditional calligraphy ink made from pine soot and water, is painted on a fish and then washi paper is rubbed over the surface to create an impression. “This method was what I first saw and fell in love with,” says Hwang. Typically gyotaku artists catch the fish they use or find them already dead on beaches. The subjects of Hwang’s work are never put to waste. “The vast majority of the fish we receive are from seafood wholesalers and directly from commercial boat captains,” says Hwang. “We also receive quite a few from marine biologists. After the print is created, if it is a rare species or something that would be difficult for me to attain again, I will store them carefully in a freezer to print

Dwight Hwang applies washi paper onto an inked fish.

“I strive to have the art transcend its origins of documenting by conveying beauty and messages from nature that we as humans should be receptive to.”

- Dwight Hwang

again another day. If it is a fish that is delicious, I will wash off the ink and process the fish into fillets. And if it is a fish that is questionable to eat, then it will be boiled down to use in our garden or it will be released back into the sea for its nutrients to be recycled into the system it came from.” Using gyotaku as an educational gateway to teach the importance of conservation, sustainable practices, and environmental dilemmas has increased in popularity. It offers young kids an opportunity to engage with the environment and create art. Hwang has led a bevy of gyotaku conservation efforts. “I had the honor to work alongside Patagonia, touring across North America conducting demonstrations and lectures,” he says. “In Toronto, Canada, there is a disturbing practice of catching female salmon on their way to their spawning grounds, removing their roe and discarding the corpses all along the river. This was done to sell the roe as bait to other fishermen. So we printed one of these

victimized salmon (belly cut open, innards and broken roe sacks hanging out) in front of a large audience as a segway to their discussion about the problem.” Through educational awareness, gyotaku has the potential to make a difference through various conservation efforts. “At first, it was simply a neat way to create a record for a memorable fishing trip,” says Hwang. “As I became more comfortable and confident with my process, I began creating scenes or attempted to convey motion and emotions through my subjects. These days, I strive to have the art transcend its origins of documenting by conveying beauty and messages from nature that we as humans should be receptive to.” To say the least, gyotaku has truly changed Hwang’s life. His success has allowed him to partner with organizations to encourage conservational efforts in one of the most creative ways possible.

Breaking Barriers Peggie Allen, the former president for the National Brotherhood of Skiers, works to promote diversity in skiing. Gavin Branch

Contributed

Ski racer Mike Lanier blasts down the mountain at a National Brotherhood of Skiers event.

aking up in a cozy lodge, lounging in the hot tub and drinking some coffee, eating breakfast at a table with a view of the sun rising over snowcovered mountains, then throwing on your skies and walking out your front door to the ski lift. This is what my friends must think I’m doing whenever I mention that I ski. I wish it were like that when I wake up at 6 in the morning and hop into my friend’s aging minivan, where I am boiled alive as the heater incessantly blows hot air at my face the entire car trip. I am routinely wedged in between multiple buckets of gear and my friend’s little sister who loves singing songs from Frozen. My reality may be different from others, but it’s obvious that skiing has an image problem. Growing up I always thought of skiing as a fun activity where anyone could go out and enjoy the open slopes, freshly laid powder, and the adrenaline associated with speed and danger. I never challenged this belief until I got into high school. Anytime I mentioned skiing I was called a rich white kid. These experiences made me think about and look into the demographic of skiing. I realized I was raised in a household of skiers. I had the financial resources to ski, and the mountain was a place where I felt comfortable and welcomed. In contrast, when I started looking I realized how few people of color I actually see on the mountain. This epiphany eventually led to a conversation with one of the most well-versed, influential black skiers in the nation, Peggie Allen, who was the president of the National Brotherhood of Skiers (NBS) for four years. The official mission of the organization is to get the youth of color onto an Olympic podium for a winter sport. The first step: place a black skier on the U.S. ski team. Most important to Allen was the camaraderie and friendship that came with membership to the group. “When they formed the organization there were a lot of people of color that were skiing, but it was also wanting to come together and ski together,” says Allen. “It was more of a

sense of security because the skiers are as white as the snow they ski on. So it just added that sense of comfort and security when they started skiing together back in the early 70s.” The NBS was created when two founders, Ben Kinley and Arthur Clay, gathered 13 Black ski clubs together for an event, which later evolved into the Black Summit. The first Summit brought 350 black skiers together with the goal of identifying and discussing problems and subjects that were unique to the black skiing population, as well as opportunities for socializing. The number of attendees was a surprise for everyone on the mountain, to the point where the National Guard was called to the resort. Now the Black Summit is a yearly event, with their most recent gathering in Sun Valley, Idaho in March 2020 attracting 600 attendees. The fact that the National Guard was once called in response to a peaceful gathering of black skiers is indicative of classist origins. According to A.G. Colemen, an author on race and skiing, the stereotype of wealth surrounding skiing has been around since the beginning of this newfound American sport. In the 1930s, skiing was brought over from Europe and marketed as a luxury European experience. Early marketing targeted wealthy people and made resorts more of a getaway, a multi-day ski vacation rather than a resort meant primarily for skiing. Companies saw skiing’s money-making potential and began trying to sell expensive snow gear, advertising their products as a way for someone to show off their riches. Products marketed to this new consumer base were only sometimes ski-related, and ranged from expensive alcohol to clothing lines dedicated to ski fashion. “Ski images emphasizing the ‘Europeanness’ established, in effect, a new ethnicity—full of savior faire and glamour—with which many white Americans wanted to identify,” writes Coleman. The early lack of diversity on ski slopes likely made skiing seem out of range for the lower class. American skiing started in the 1930s when black people were

Reginald Johnson enjoys a day on the slopes at a Black Summit at Steamboat Resort.

often not socially accepted by whites, a fact reflected in the advertising featuring only white people. According to Coleman, common advertisements displayed white stereotypes such as white cowboys on horseback holding skis in place of guns, studly white men in shades encouraged to “stand in the lift line looking cool,” and smiling white women in fancy ski clothes. Yet, as Allen points out, “not everybody who skis is tall, beautiful, and blonde.” While there seems to be no consensus about the exact numbers of black skiers, the percentage will inconsistently hover around two to seven percent. Noted author on black skiing Anthony Harrison explained how he often felt singled out at ski resorts as a minority skier. “Now, I’m a pretty good skier but I’m not so great that I deserved this special attention… as an African American I can intuitively sense when I’m being judged through the lens of race,” says Harrison. Allen also identifies with Harrison’s narrative; as she recounted experiences on the mountain over the years. “It’s mostly the looks, or some rude comments, just some

ignorance about stepping in front of people and not waiting in line, that kind of thing,” she says. “But there have been some incidents where it’s been carried on a little bit further.” Harrison also talks about the idea of “generational skiing” as a possible contributor to the low numbers of Black skiers. “We should also keep in mind that… parents who ski have children who ski,” says Harrison. Without family influence, Harrison believes few black skiers come into the sport. Similarly, a lack of generational skiing may make anyone in a lower to medium socioeconomic class or people of color much less prominent on the mountain. Along those same lines, Allen concludes that in order to grow the sport of skiing you need to be able to introduce skiing to people who never considered it an option. “The National Brotherhood of Skiers has helped many colored youths experience the world of winter sports,” she says. “At my local club here, we’ve been really pushing, as part of our mission, to introduce people of color and particularly young folks to winter sports.” She added, “we want (parents) to play more of an active role in their kids getting out in the mountain, and we found that that has led to ‘well,

if I’m gonna go do all this, I might as well take up skiing myself.’” Allen calls this the “snowball effect,” where if one person adopts skiing they will spread it to their family members, ultimately resulting in more people of color skiing. A major obstacle for people considering skiing is the overall cost of the sport. All categories of skiing can be very expensive, whether it is the price of a lift ticket, the snow gear, the food, the lodging, or simply getting to the mountain. This is where Allen voices the benefits of belonging to a ski club like the NBS that can negotiate discounted tickets and discounted lodging. “Accessibility is an issue, especially for our inner-city kids,” she says. “I think it’s also up to organizations like ours to get the word out that we do have programs, that we can make it affordable and accessible when we [organize trips]. Most of our clubs rent buses… to take our youth out skiing, and a lot of [NBS clubs] are trying to partner with Boys and Girls Clubs, their local churches, the YMCA, Jack and Jill organizations that involve youth and make sure that they know about us. So we can show them that, yes, this is a sport that’s out there.

Come out, give it a try.” The freedom and adrenaline of skiing is something everyone should be able to experience, regardless of a person’s race or class. Up to now, skiing has remained a non-diverse sport due to its history and the continued marketing and advertising toward the upper classes. There are still barriers impeding diversification, but there are groups like NBS trying to overcome them. NBS brings new people into the sport by creating social momentum and opening doors to new recreational opportunities. The ski industry needs to seek out minorities to help solve the problem. As Allen states, “there can’t be a room full of white people sitting around at the table, trying to figure out how to diversify or how to be inclusive.” Without a doubt, skiing is an expensive sport and it will take a bit more sacrifice than other sports from participants and resorts alike. Despite this, groups like NBS are trying to make skiing accessible to everyone. Nonetheless, all skiers need to take responsibility for promoting equity and push for spaces that will embrace a sense of belonging for everyone.

The Tarantula Collective

Critically endangered tarantula Poecilotheria metallica displays its colors.

IRREGULAR COMPANY Raven Biskup examines how spider collectors help conserve threatened and endangered spiders globally. Raven Biskup

hen I was a little kid, I was obsessed with bugs. I spent much of my free time in the summer searching my backyard for tiny creatures like pill bugs and grasshoppers. However, I was particularly interested in spiders. I would stab holes in empty salad boxes to use as makeshift enclosures for jumping spiders I found. I caught orb-weaver spiders with my bare hands and released them in my room so they would construct webs in the corners. Much to my disappointment, I only found common, relatively small spiders in my neighborhood. I dreamed of seeing all the amazing spiders I read about in library books and nature field guides, which led to begging my parents to let me have what I considered the ultimate spider—a tarantula. Understandably, my arachnophobic dad was not fond of the idea of a spider the size of a small rodent living in our house, so I eventually stopped asking. As I grew up, I became less fixated with arachnids, although I still retained my interest. While being stuck at home for quarantine due to the coronavirus pandemic, I craved a new hobby. I remembered my fascination with massive spiders, and unlike when I was in elementary school I now had my own income. I was once again engrossed by tarantulas, spending hours researching how to care for them, and where I could get one. In October of 2020, I finally fulfilled my childhood dream of owning a tarantula, and I affectionately named my new friend “Charlie.” I was soon tempted to get more. While browsing the display of tarantulas at a local pet shop, a small vial, labeled “Poecilotheria metallica,” caught my eye. The price for this tiny spider ($125) seemed egregious, so I typed the

name into Google to see why it was so expensive. I was stunned—the tarantula was a vibrant shade of blue, and it had rings on the joints of its legs colored gold and white. The top of its body was adorned with an intricate geometric pattern, the whole spider covered in silvery hairs. I decided that the stunning tarantula was worth buying. I wanted to learn more about it, so I later did a little research. To my surprise, it was categorized as “critically endangered.” It almost felt wrong to keep such an animal in my room for personal enjoyment. I found that Poecilotheria metallica, commonly known as the Gooty Sapphire Ornamental Tarantula, wasn’t the only endangered tarantula species commonly kept in captivity. And as might be expected, the international trade of captive tarantulas is controversial and could affect the populations of these species. While none have the vivid blue coloration of P. metallica, the rest of the genus Poecilotheria are similarly captivating and desirable—and endangered. The International Union for Conservation of Nature’s Red List denotes one Poecilotheria species as vulnerable, three as endangered, and two as critically endangered, and most species of this genus haven’t even been evaluated yet. Naturally, I worried that these populations may have been decimated by exotic pet enthusiasts and that I had unknowingly contributed to a massive problem. I was somewhat relieved to learn that the exotic pet store down the street was not the bane of these species, but rather the deforestation and destruction of their natural habitats in India and Sri Lanka. While still dismaying, at least it was unrelated to the pet trade. Although, as these spiders take years to become fully grown, it doesn’t seem unlikely that

Linda Rayor a few people looking to make some easy money by selling wild-caught Poecilotheria could exacerbate an already dire situation. To get a better understanding of how owning these spiders could affect their native populations, I spoke with Richard Stewart, who has kept tarantulas for over 20 years. His YouTube channel, the Tarantula Collective, has over 72,000 subscribers. Many people are afraid of spiders in general, or at least have an aversion towards them, something that Stewart once related to. “I was pretty terrified of spiders,” he says, “but I got my first tarantula to, kind of, overcome that fear. And the more I learned about them, the more fascinating they became to me, and also with that knowledge, the fear started to slip away.” This innate fear is so common, albeit there is no clear reason as to why. Nonetheless, this makes even the mildest of arachnophobes reluctant to care about the wellbeing of arachnids. “I don’t think it’d be too far off the mark to say that most people’s initial reaction when they see a tarantula or a spider is to kill it,” says Stewart. The reason why those pesky house spiders aren’t extinct yet (probably to the dismay of many) can be explained with fancy Latin words, called taxonomy. Organisms are grouped into domains, kingdoms, phyla, and so on. Spiders make up the class Araneae, and are divided into two suborders: Araneomorphae and Mygalomorphae. The majority of spiders in the world, such as the plethora of species you’ll find in your house, are araneomorphs, while tarantulas are mygalomorphs. The fast life cycle of

the araneomorphae, as well as the large amounts of eggs they produce, allows them to easily repopulate and spread. “They’re pretty abundant… it’s hard to conceive of a situation where most people would over-collect a population of these spiders,” says Dr. Linda Rayor of Cornell University’s department of entomology, the world’s top specialist on huntsman spider behavior. “These guys have short lives,” she explains. “Largely, these guys are living a year, year, and a half.” “Mygalomorphs are living somewhere between nine and 40 years, 25 years commonly,” says Dr. Rayor. This is a shockingly long lifespan for a bug. An araneomorph could mate, lay eggs, and die before a mygalomorph even reaches sexual maturity. Additionally, unless the tarantulas are males seeking a mate, they have no reason to travel any significant distance. “Many of them have very, very localized populations,” says Dr. Rayor. This makes tarantulas extremely vulnerable to human impact; their low reproductive rates and centralized populations make it very easy to permanently damage their endemic populations. With new species of tarantulas being regularly discovered, collected, and being available for sale only a year or two later, this is especially pertinent. “You can wipe out an entire population, because they’re all in the same small area,” Dr. Rayor laments. Poecilotheria metallica is an extreme example of this, with their population confined to a forest in India that’s too small to even be visible on a map of Asia. Logging and forest fires have decimated this spider’s already sparse

endemic population, so it almost seems heinous to keep a species spiraling towards extinction in a glass box for one’s personal enjoyment. However, the world’s collective fear towards creepy crawlies often leads to a misunderstanding of them. It seems redundant to mention, but spiders differ from vertebrates—people just don’t usually know the extent of how unique these creatures are. This also means that effective conservation efforts for tarantulas look quite different. Unlike many textbook endangered species, amateur hobbyists collecting tarantulas could actually help their conservation. While not reproducing nearly as prolifically as araneomorphs, tarantulas are still fairly easy to breed. The captive population of P. metallica dwarfs the population of wild ones, which protects the native spiders in their natural habitat. Finding someone online who has somehow managed to find one of these elusive spiders in India, and is willing to ship it illegally across the planet, which puts the tarantula at a high risk of dying, is far more difficult and expensive than just buying a legally captive bred specimen. “We are not getting a Tiger King-like situation with tarantulas,” says Dr. Rayor. “Captive breeding should be supported.” There are many species of tarantulas that have legal protections, which can help reduce the amount of poaching. Unfortunately, these same regulations also tend to make a thriving captive population difficult to create. In 2018, the United States Department of Fish and Wildlife listed five Poecilotheria species from Sri Lanka

(not including P. metallica) as endangered under the Endangered Species Act of 1973 (the ESA). The spiders’ inclusion to the ESA does protect them, by requiring permits for imports and outlawing ownership of illegally collected specimens from any country. However, by assigning them this designation, it also makes it illegal to sell any listed species across state lines. Ownership, breeding, and trade from within the same state are still legal. When hobbyists questioned why there were so many restrictions for the captive-bred specimens, when the act is supposed to protect the wild population, the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service stated, “the Act does not allow for captivebred specimens of these listed species to be assigned separate legal status from their wild counterparts.” Even though invertebrates behave and reproduce differently than vertebrates, they are both regulated in the same way under the ESA. “The idea is good,” says Dr. Rayor. “We don’t want wild animals coming in. You don’t want habitat destruction... but because they’re successfully being bred [in captivity], regulations that we can’t sell across state lines of Poecilotheria that are captive bred are crazy, it’s misguided.” For the most part, tarantula hobbyists only keep spiders because they truly appreciate them, so they tend to be very conscious of their conservation. Stewart described his personal experience with the self-accountability in the hobby: “When I first got into tarantulas, I didn’t care how I got it—or it’s not that I didn’t care, I just didn’t know about their threatened and endangered status. But while keeping

Penelope Revett

The Tarantula Collective

them and learning about them… you also learn a whole lot about the different factors that are threatening them in the wild. And that really kind of inspires a desire to get involved in conservation… You can appreciate them a whole lot because you have them right in front of you in an enclosure, but you also learn how integral they are to the ecosystem, and how important it is that they don’t go extinct.”

The conservation effort of tarantulas is probably impeded by a lack of awareness more than anything else. With large conservation movements predominantly focused towards more popular animals, spiders are overlooked. “That’s something that we focus a lot on, on my podcast [the Exotic Pet Collective],” says Stewart. “It’s really easy to raise money and generate concern to save polar bears, whales, or anything that’s large and cute. When it comes to arthropods, especially tarantulas… it’s really hard to get people motivated, or interested, or concerned about the decimation of their populations and their environments.” The irony of this is that arthropods, such as spiders, play a vital role in their ecosystem. Without spiders, insect populations would get widely out of control, which in turn could damage the local environment, and have many adverse effects for all species. “It has this domino effect,” says Stewart, “kind of like a tower of Jenga. You pull out something on the bottom, everything else comes crashing down on top of it.” The effort for conservation of tarantulas is almost entirely driven by tarantula hobbyists, and desperately needs more recognition. The IUCN Red List denotes “formal education” and “awareness & communications” as two needed conservation actions for P. metallica—while also using data from 2008 (their most recent assessment). Fortunately, the tarantula community has grown

quite rapidly, with people such as Stewart and Dr. Rayor acknowledging the importance of awareness and appreciation of creatures that so many people would be thrilled to never see again. “I think it’s incredibly worthwhile to share that spiders are not dangerous, spiders are appealing, spiders are interesting,” says Dr. Rayor. “And that having captive animals in a situation where you can show just the sheer diversity and the beauty and the charm of spiders, or other invertebrates, is hugely worthwhile… I am increasingly thinking about it being my personal responsibility to breed them, so that there are large captive populations so people can own them and see how appealing they are.” Stewart owned a P. Metallica before they were classified as critically endangered, and like me, he also initially felt guilty. “It was like this realization when that information came out, that I have critically endangered specimens in my basement,” he recalls, “it kind of creeped me out… I actually felt bad about it.” While it was detrimental for endangered species of spiders to be initially collected from the wild, the resulting captive populations have created more awareness than any outreach program could have. “If it wasn’t for the tarantula hobby, and for falling in love with tarantulas in general, I would not be aware that that was ever even an issue,” says Stewart. In my personal experience, the guilt I felt quickly dissipated when I immersed myself in the tarantula community, and realized the people keeping them, even the critically endangered species, are learning about and gaining a deep appreciation for an aspect of nature that is generally considered repulsive. With any traces of guilt dissolved, I now think of my endangered spiders not as a regret, but as an opportunity— that maybe my specimens can help people understand tarantulas a little more. Even if people still remain perturbed by them, they can still gain some appreciation for these extraordinary octopedal beasts.

Tiana Littlejohn spends an afternoon exploring the natural world.

Road To Recovery Tiana Littlejohn learns how to cope with loss and shares stories with world traveler Chris Kellow. Tiana Littlejohn

n March 7, 2020, I walked into my house with the knowledge that my dad was taken off life support only a few hours earlier. The man who played a part in my creation was no longer here to help me grow. I collapsed to the floor surrounded by giant flower bouquets from sympathetic neighbors. I screamed: “Why is this happening?” I felt every emotion all at once. Anger and shouting was followed by sorrow and weeping. Then one week after I lost him I was ordered to quarantine at home without my valuable family member. I was trapped looking at his chair, passing his empty room and office. I felt hurt and lonely. I wanted to run upstairs and give him a hug, or hear his voice, but instead I was alone in the house he watched me grow up in. I was angry that he left me before he could see me graduate, get married, or become a mature adult. For a while, almost every day was a constant battle of either getting up and lugging my emotional weight around or

Piper Sugg

staying in bed in a dark corner all day. But there came a time when I remembered that my dad taught me to live life to the fullest. I have always believed character is something an individual builds from their surrounding environment and life experience, good or bad. Character is defined as the mental and moral qualities distinctive to an individual, and although I am insecure and get down on myself sometimes, as most teenagers do, I have cultivated many strong characteristics and have learned to recognize them in others. My neighbor Chris Kellow has all the characteristics I am inspired to have. Most of all she is strong and this was proven after she lost her husband in 2019. Since then, Kellow has sought love and peace with grief instead of hate and anger. She remains grounded to the earth, always striving to do more with this short life we are given. She lives by a Mark Twain quote: “Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness, and many of our people

need it sorely on these accounts. Broad, wholesome, charitable views of men and things cannot be acquired by vegetating in one little corner of the earth all one’s lifetime.” Kellow has traveled to 208 (out of 241) countries and territories in the world. In the last 20 years, she has spent a total of eight years out of the country, usually leaving for three months twice a year. Kellow usually only brings one bag and chooses to fly into the biggest city and then finds her way to small towns and villages. She started traveling with a trip to Europe, initially visiting sought-out places like the Eiffel Tower in Paris, France. But this first trip quickly sparked her thirst for backpacking in new land and made her want to experience more. Inspired by the people, the culture, she wanted to see land untouched by judgement. Kellow went to The University of Hawaii to study interior design and got a job shortly after graduating. Every paycheck, she put a little away for traveling expenses. One day, Kellow asked her boss for a six month leave to visit South Africa. After getting turned down, she quit her job. Upon returning, she started small businesses—candlemaking and jewelry design. She soon went back to college

to get a different degree. Then she met her husband, Les, and started a daycare business, while continuing to travel. She retired at 40 and has been seeking adventures ever since. One of her most memorable experiences came when she went to Iraq, Lebanon, and Jordan after the Gulf War started. Kellow wanted to see what the local people were saying about her country, and how they felt. People would say, “we hate your country, we hate your president, but you, you are my friend, come to my house, come have tea.” She was surprised by how the people who had grown up in war, some scarred by buildings falling on them from bombs or grenades, all opened their hearts to a mere stranger. Her first couple of trips to the Middle East were spent backpacking and seeking knowledge of the people, but after seeing the ruins and people missing arms and legs, babies begging for food, she spent her nights locked away in a room crying. “It changed my perspective on life so much that the culture shock was almost unbearable at times,” says Kellow. Kellow recommends people go out and observe other

Tiana Littlejohn spends an afternoon exploring the natural world.

people, and experience how others live with an open mind. Kellow understands that traveling can be expensive, but as author Paolo Coelho says, “travel is never a matter of money but of courage.” After the death of her husband, Kellow decided she couldn’t live in sorrow and sadness. Although her original plan was to go to all the countries with her partner, she came to the realization she must finish by herself, that life must go on. Kellow has started taking music classes at LCC to learn the piano, cooks healthy and balanced meals, and continues to go on daily walks. “I used to wait for someone to join me on my walks, never wanting to be alone at first, but now if someone doesn’t want to go with me, I walk with myself,” she says. And this might be the key to recovery. “Humans have long stigmatized solitude,” explains California State Polytechnic University sociologist Jack Fong. “It has been considered an inconvenience, something to avoid, a punishment, a realm of loners,” he says. Fong adds, “when people are experiencing a crisis it’s not always just about you. It’s about how you are in society. When people take these moments to explore their solitude, not only will they be forced to confront who they are, they just might learn a little bit about how to out-maneuver some of the toxicity that surrounds them.” Solitude does not work as an instant healing process. “It’s a deeper internal process,” notes Matthew Bowker, a psychoanalytic political theorist at Medaille College who has researched solitude. The reason humans cannot just be alone in absolute solitude is because it is an uncomfortable journey. But it proves critical. “It might take a little bit of work before it turns into a pleasant experience,” says Booker. “But once it does it

becomes maybe the most important relationship anybody ever has, the relationship you have with yourself.”

I have been so scared to let go of my dad since his passing. I question if I will stop wishing for him to return. Will I forever lose the memories and special connection I had with him? In talking with Kellow and feeling the peace she cultivated, I see that it is not about letting go, but rather embracing the life that was once there and making it a part of what will come. My dad taught me to live life to the fullest, with an open heart, and appreciate the people around me, making sure to always say I love you before leaving. My dad, while no longer here, has taught me to love myself. Waking up everyday, while sometimes tough, is a blessing in itself. I’ve heard that “the stronger our attachment to someone or something, the stronger our grief.” I can verify that. It’s up to people like Kellow and I to make sure that what was so special about someone’s heart lives on by sharing memories with others. Traveling is much more than getting on a plane and seeing new things. Traveling is exploring new cultures and behaviors, growing mentally and physically. Going out and seeing things with a new set of eyes helps us appreciate things we often take for granted. The more you travel, internal and external landscapes, the more you make the world your home, leaving a little part of your heart in places where people have no hope. Listening to Kellow’s stories always leaves me seeking more adventure, some inner peace, and to be content with being alone.

Sarah Karr reflects on her experiences in the education system.

Innovative Education Sarah Karr reflects on MINE and talks with former Harvard education expert Tony Wagner. Sarah Karr

never thought I would get credit for spending five days camping and backpacking in October 2019. Before joining the Miller Integrated Nature Experience (MINE), I was unaware that I was going to learn the lost skill of map reading or learn how to cook minimalist meals with whatever food we had packed. I had no idea that I could go without my phone for days and not worry about the lures of social media. I learned that there was more to myself and my interests than I ever knew. There are certain things you can learn only through experience. Prior to joining MINE, schools had never provided me with a view from the top of the Painted Hills that rippled over themselves like a sheet of red and yellow layers. You cannot look out at the Cascades atop Smith Rock State Park, well, unless you’re there. You cannot learn the hard work of rock climbers until you witness them free climbing the side of a mountain, the wall littered with chalk prints of those who came before. I couldn’t begin to appreciate the support I have in my life until I witnessed two parents coaching and cheering on their child as they climbed further up the mountain. I learned about the different struggles of 11 fellow adventurers and why they loved MINE so much. As I reflected on the five days of the trip, I realized that I was just like them, new to such an impactful learning experience. As we fanned the flames of the campfire with paper plates, I realized that the experience would stay with me forever. I will always remember the cry of coyotes in the night, how to keep those hungry flames alive, and how to reflect on myself and search for the perfect words to compose a journalistic story.

Penelope Revett

What I will not remember of high school are the countless hours spent in a classroom watching slideshows and taking detailed notes. I look back on my notes from ninth grade and realize that I was trying to look like an exceptional student. The truth is that I never studied for a test. I never saw the point. Instead, I spent my time studying tricks to temporary learning that would get me through the class. This blocked me from creating a method of learning that worked for me. Retired Harvard education expert and best selling author Tony Wagner says, “I had to really figure out how best to create my own conscious learning opportunities and learning experiences,” referring to the fact that he hated school, dropped out of high school once, dropped out of college twice, and came back to become an expert in the field of education. Wagner now has a doctorate from Harvard, has published seven books on education, and has lectured at many conferences around the world on the ineffective schooling of young minds. Despite having a spotty personal record in his public school education, Wagner later worked at the Harvard Innovation Lab, aiming to promote team-based learning experiences as well as entrepreneurial activities for students, faculty, and more. Wagner describes innovators as creative problem solvers and views these people as the people who will really change the world. “We need young people to transform our world before it’s too late,” says Wagner. He believes in the principles of creativity, innovation, and passion, which aren’t always practiced in the common house of education. With his own past experiences in the American education system and

Sarah Karr takes a moment to pause during a hike at Smith Rock State Park with the dirtbags of MINE.

Grace Hawthorne

working to become the teacher he never had, Wagner has spread his message of miseducation, focusing rather on innovation. In my own experience, there were days when journalism advisor Ivan Miller took kids out on field trips, sat them in the dirt, and simply told them to write. I cannot explain why exactly he did this, but it allowed students to connect with themselves and think about different possibilities. This led my classmates and me to connect with our writing and when we shared our pieces with each other we formed a stronger team that would eventually produce meaningful magazines.

Smart kids are never directly told that they’re smarter than everyone else, but they certainly get a little more than everyone else. In school, there is a hierarchy that ranks students based on academic achievement, and the higher you are the more privileges and chances you get. Amongst these model students are those that were smart enough to know how to climb the ranks of this pyramid scheme through tricks and shortcuts. Cheater, slacker, inadequate, and careless are some words used to describe the kids who do not have a spot at the top. Diversity in students is welcomed in the common house of education, however, the diversity of learning is not. One meaning of diversity is variety, which means that not every student will excel in math or English. So what is said about those students? Nothing is said but the letters D for disappointing, F for

failing. The average graduation rate of Oregon high schools was 80.81% in the years 2018-2019, meaning about one in five students did not graduate, and the conditions are partially to blame. Throughout his high school and college years, my grandpa earned C’s and D’s in every class. Many people would say this reflects a person who struggled in school or had no desire to learn. This, however, is not the case as he simply didn’t function well in a traditional classroom setting. He now spends hours in his studio studying art, history, and politics. He also uses his art background to care for his neighborhood-renowned garden. My grandpa discovered most of his passions after his formal education, and for 50 years he’s been happily learning the things he wants to learn and at his own pace. Learning isn’t just a measure of life in a classroom, but a way to describe what happens when passion, creativity, and innovation mix. Wagner says, “what I’ve come to understand is that the culture of schooling as we have continued to practice and perpetuate it is fundamentally and radically at odds with a culture of learning that develops the capabilities to innovate.” One definition of innovation is to change something already built or established by using new techniques, concepts, and products. The second definition is to introduce something entirely new. In summary, innovation is the creation or further development of a product or idea. Leaving room for innovation provides room for creative thinkers to build their passions and skills while improving

the overall craft. Instead of taking the time to plan and improve the learning experiences of thousands of students sitting at home due to COVID-19, the school systems simply fell into familiar, yet ineffective, patterns of learning. “What if we educated them [the students] to be creative problem solvers and working to solve the major problems and challenges we all face around the world?” asked Wagner. In MINE, what we learned and experienced in nature wasn’t graded or tested, and it gave us the opportunity to learn without pressure. I wasn’t actively trying to “survive” on field trips. I was actively learning and absorbing what obstacles and learning opportunities were handed to me and my classmates. The students are what made the MINE program so successful, and with our variety of skills, talents, and mindsets, we showcased our collective passions as a class, and as individuals. “Innovation is above all a team sport, there is no innovation without deep collaboration,” says Wagner. MINE is a program that allows students to go on field trips weekly, to experience nature and the real world. Whether it’s planting trees, mulching them for winter, learning local history, or preparing for week-long backpacking trips, this hands-on learning experience is truly unique. While it is a journalism program, it offers a learning experience with the outside world and the problems created by modern society. By creating a creative and collaborative atmosphere, students learned through experience. In his childhood, Wagner attended summer camps that taught him about nature, various outdoor skills, and the importance of trial and error without a grade. “I know I learned a reverence for nature, I learned to be at home and comfortable with myself in nature, and I think that helped give me a certain kind of perseverance or tenacity,” said Wagner. Despite being stuck at home for 402 days during the COVID-19 pandemic, the MINE program stayed strong. The students that were given the opportunities to hike mountains, walk trails, plant trees, and camp in the middle of eastern Oregon continued to prosper. Although we’ve all been at home, we’ve successfully reached out to

professionals to help tell stories and show our hard work. Through reflection and large doses of determination, MINE students didn’t let the pandemic stop them from writing, editing, designing, and producing a magazine. It’s because we were given the opportunities to go out, learn, and reflect on ourselves that we’ve come this far.

Now that I have graduated high school (a semester early) and have moved to Utah for college, I’ve been given time to think and look at the education system from the outside. Time to think is honestly one of the things I was never given outside of MINE and seasonal school breaks. In high school, preparing for what you’ll be in the future is the focus, and while some students figure it out, others like me are left with questions. Recently, I received a letter from the Dean of Humanities at the University of Utah. The dean explained that I will be taking innovative courses that will encourage my peers and me to think critically, creatively, ethically, and logically— and teach us to appreciate and understand cultural and historical contexts as well as how to communicate effectively to different audiences. I should not receive a letter outlining all of the things I should have already learned. Luckily, I had MINE. Every child has the right to an impactful and prosperous education no matter their background, interests, and social standing. The methods in which we learn and apply our knowledge should change every year and vary from person to person. The sooner schools and educators realize this and make accommodations for their students to effectively learn for themselves, the sooner our society can flourish. I found this learning opportunity through MINE, as did many other kids I worked with to produce magazines and newspapers. I hiked mountains, climbed trees, and wrote for hours about the things I was learning about the world and myself. More kids deserve an education where they’re free to experience and learn, for there are certain things you can learn only through experience and reflection.

Grace Hawthorne

This is a MINE publication, produced at Springfield High School in Springfield, Oregon. Chris Burkard

Backcountry Review Issue No. 7

Articles inside

Innovative Education

Road To Recovery

Irregular Company

Breaking Barriers

Discovering Gyotaku

True Adventure

The Seventh Fire

Going Green

Solivagant

Blending Worlds

Unplugged

The Need For Play