A good chunk of my adventures these days seems to have taken the form of following my daughter around on her adventures. Work away in Barcelona. Teaching in Viet Nam. Most recently Taipei at Spring break. By the time I arrive to visit her, our daughter, Larkyn, has scoped out the place and is able to plan a trip that encompasses the “must visit” spots. This of course included Taitung, on the south end of the island and Toroko Gorge.
I was amazed at how different Taiwan was from Mainland China. Excessively polite people stop in the street to see if you need help with directions, line up to get on and off rapid transit and would not consider pushing. Wilderness continues to abound. Wild monkeys chattered as we walked to the beach. The beaches were pristine and inviting, although swimming was often prohibited unless you were surfing. Apparently too many people have died stepping into the shallows to take a selfie. Coming from BC we promptly ignored this rule. We sought out coral to check out the little fish, only to discover that the most venomous snake on the island, the water krait, also hangs out there.
Swimming back to the shore, what felt like a long reed, brushed against my leg. No reeds in the shallows of the ocean. Something that looked like a stick poked out of the water. This particular beach had a lifeguard who insisted it was a stick. This was vigorously agreed upon by my daughter’s boyfriend who had tired of all of the snake warning photos I had been sending every time they mentioned hiking. At one point, my husband and I watched “the stick” bend it’s head to have a good 180 degree look.
By the time we reached the Toroko Gorge, I was not just worried about snakes but paralysed with fear at the thought of them. My husband was determined that they would not prevent our hike into the gorge. By this time, I was happy to enjoy the amenities of the luxurious Silks Place Hotel with the three different hot spring pools of varying temperatures and drinks on the rooftop pool deck. The gorge surrounded us and I had no desire to leave. But I was worried about letting my insistent husband go hiking alone, so off we went on our happy hike with me already ticked off.
The hike begins with a trek through a long, dark, damp tunnel. A perfect place for a snake to be lying in wait. On the other side of the tunnel, the sign. Apparently wasps, and falling rock were added to the list of hazards. And more dark, damp tunnels. For the first time in my life, the fear overtook the wonder and the joy. I spent the entire hike not awed by the beauty of nature, but consumed with the fear. And angry to be in that situation.
I have been a risk taker for as long as I can remember. You do something hard and then revel in the success. Or you learn that flipping forward from the swing set is a bad idea and end up with a broken foot. Or you dislocate an arm from rolling too fast down too big a hill. Or need ten stitches because there just wasn’t enough land between the fence and broken bottle in the ditch. These were absorbed as learning not a reasons to stop taking risks. There was no anger than soured the experience.
For my older sister, it was different. When she was 7 or 8 years old, she was doing the circuit with the other kids in the neighbourhood. At one point, she fell off her bike, squished her finger and concussed herself. She was done with the neighbourhood circuit. She was mad at her stupid bike. It wasn’t learning but a lesson. She would not grow up to embrace risk but to be leery of it. This was very much reinforced by our mother, father and step-mother who had adopted the stance that only calculated risks with a guarantee of success were acceptable. Risk that might end in failure were for stupid people.
Risk taking has become a big part of the conversation about learning in education. There is now general acceptance that if students do not take risks in their learning, then maximum learning does not occur. There is now an expectation for students to risk failure in the pursuit of the learning process. However in this equation, I’m not certain that we factor in student orientation to risk. If the risk presented is too big, it threatens to overwhelm our more cautious and risk-adverse students. These are the students who can’t get started. The concept of risking failure is far from their understanding or comfort zone. For other students, it is the grand leap that provides the challenge for them to sink their teeth into and explore the full extent of their imaginations. These students need little front end loading to define and engage in project based learning. Our quest as educators is to provide the scaffolding for cautious students to feel secure in their learning journey and for our adventurous students to feel the freedom to explore multiple pathways to finding their answers. That is not an easy task. It require is a trusting relationship with our students and an understanding of their family context.