by Chris Foote

So what?  It is hard to say when I’m still learning so much about this world and my self.  When first considering what to write on for this assignment, I was at a loss for words.  Then, as I looked out onto the pristine, blue ocean, the last line left Ashley’s mouth and lingered in the air: “When he left the beach the sea was going on” (Walcott, 325).  This triggered something deep in my mind, and I thought of all I have learned here.  First, I thought of the complexity of the life underneath the monotonous waves on the surface and its surfaces; then, of how that life is threatened by fisheries today.  I thought of Tito’s dilemma, the Mexican Fisherman who we learned about from Brady, and understood how he was conflicted between his family and the sea; of Hector’s burial, the swift, the sea-almonds; of the empty Spanish bottle landing on Cotton Bay after a long journey at sea. And at that moment, I realized: I am invested in my education.

For my entire life, school was to write an essay, turn it in, get your grade, forget it.  This was successful, until I touched down in RockSoundInternationalAirport.  It hit me a couple weeks in that I was thinking about the homework I worked on, not just mindlessly skimming Sparknotes on Macbeth so I could finish the new episode of “White Collar” before lights out.  For example, as I navigated through the confusing waters of SCommon and stumbled upon our first Omeros reading, I thought I knew the game like the back of my hand.  Open the book, circle some words, underline the first and last line of each section, scribble some remarks on the side, and your done in 15 minutes.  Soon, to my surprise, my mindset was altered by the many fascinations of Omeros. I found myself taking more time on each reading and really understanding what I wrote in the margins of the tattered novel.  This mindset brought me to a new place both academically and personally.  In both Histories and Literature Harkness discussions, I began to develop my skills as a facilitator.  I was able to step back from discussions and look at the bigger picture, and I felt more connected to each discussion, being both contributor and leader.  As a result, my investment in the classroom grew.

Just as I have evolved in the classroom with discussions and annotations, my investment in this environment has grown immensely as I’ve been here.  Since the first walk through the Inner Loop with Joseph, when I learned about mahogany and how to open a coconut, I have learned of this place and the services that it provides.  My project group and I created a Human Ecology project that I am passionate about.  60 feet under, a black grouper drifting aimlessly through the water in front of us while fixing tiles to dead coral with the sole purpose of awareness, I could not ask for a more inspiring project.  To be able to understand just the tip of the iceberg that is the awe inspiring environment that surrounds The Island School is not enough, I want others to feel the passion that I do.  That is not only the purpose of my Human Ecology project, but of much of the work we do here, as well.  It is so that I can return to my sending school and help others understand what I learned here: that we, as humans, are stakeholders in this earth, and that, in my opinion, we need to appreciate the power and complexity of nature if we want to live sustainably.  My vision is to carry my investment from The Island School to the world outside of this miniature paradise.  I will return to school as a meaningful stakeholder of the earth.  A stakeholder that not only respects and understands his environment, but one that gives back to it, as well.

My education here has taught me the importance of being a part of the environment.  On another long night of Marine Ecology homework, I was in the middle of a complaint concerning the length of an article when I turned the page and read: “It changes the role of Homosapiens as conqueror to plain member and citizen of the community” (Bohnsack, 7).  This quote reminds me of the importance to reach out.  I thought of the Settlement Day and DownIsland, and how experiencing the new culture of a community outside of The Island School made me feel more connected to Eleuthera and The Bahamas.  At first, I was out of my comfort zone, but my comfort only increased as I learned more about the areas I visited.  I now realize the importance of that type of domestic tourism.  By travelling to different places nearby, I was able to recognize and be a part of such vibrant diversity on a small island.  One of the forms of responsible tourism spoke to me in this regard: “[Responsible tourism] Makes positive contributions to the conservation of natural and culture heritage and to the maintenance of the world’s diversity” (Goodwin, 22).  Though this is concerning all sorts of tourism, it reflects how I have learnt to treat domestic tourism.  After seeing so much diversity on DownIsland trip, I see the incredible range of culture in such a small area, and I want to continue to explore places I thought I knew with the mindset of the “conservation of natural and cultural heritage.”  This connection to various cultures taught me how to become more invested in a place by showing that broadening my horizons on just a 3-hour car ride is just as meaningful as a 12-hour plane ride.

There are points in my life that I now realize I took for granted.  For example, two summers ago, I worked at a summer camp for those less fortunate than I, a culture foreign to me at that time.  The kids I met there were so different than I, I was intimidated.  I volunteered there for 6 weeks, and I did not get to know the students well until the end of my time there.  Once I put our differences behind me, I grew closer to my students faster than I have anyone else.  Now that I have learned the importance of cultural relativism, and to look at similarities instead of differences, I wish I had acted with a more open mind.  In the future, I will explore new cultures that I had looked over before.

So what?  My IslandSchool experience has given me a reason to be invested in what I do.  I feel that what I have done here has taught me to continue to be a part of my work, both in school and out of school.  This investment will drive me through the rest of my schooling and the remainder of my life by supplying passion and interest to my life.  As I look out onto the ocean, Walcott’s final verse spinning through my head, I will forever be reminded of all I have accomplished here and all that it has taught me.

My time here has been a life-changing experience, and I am sure this is the case for everybody else. There have been so many good memories of this wonderful community and it’s difficult to wrap up these memories in words. From arriving on campus, the first run-swim, 3-day kayak, eleutheros, down island, 8-day kayak, hurricane Sandy, the half-marathon, the super-swim, human ecology projects, research symposium, and finally, the Demonstration of Learning. There have been so many challenges that we’ve overcome together as a community and its hard to think that on Thursday each one of us will be leaving this community to go our separate paths. I hope that one day this community will come together again to share these memories, challenges, experiences.

This is the last student update for the semester. Today, we’ll begin the transitioning from the Island School environment to back home. And tomorrow, we will end the semester with the jump off of High Rock, community day, and lastly graduation. Soon after that, we’ll be heading back home, forever changed by this experience.

Enjoy this example written by James Boyce, describing the epic experience of free-diving with Maxey as his epic guide:

Free diving through Cathedral

The conch horn blows as a calling to free diving.

The sun is just emerging from the blue ocean.

I don’t want to wake up and have trouble finding

the motivation to move. I feel a notion.

The thought that my time here is limited comes to

me and I decide to put my day to motion

I get dressed, get all my gear, and put on my shoes

When I reach the boathouse I see Maxey sitting

there waiting for me. He says we are going to

Cathedral and gives me tips on deeper breathing.

We load into the boat and head to Cathedral.

I hop in the water, excitement starts creeping

into me. Cathedral is named after a hole

that runs through the entire length of the coral.

I want to push myself, so to achieve my goal

I ask Maxey to guide me through this new portal

I take my last breath and dive into a surreal

world of silence in the absence of all oral

communication. I travel deeper. I feel

as if I need to breathe, but I know I can go

further. I reach the entrance to the cave, the keel

of the big boat far above the tips of my toes

I enter the cave and as I am about half

way through I come to realize and I come to know

that if I need to breath I don’t have any shaft

to the surface, but then the amazing wildlife

and structure of the cave brings me back from the daft

thoughts that I was having about losing my life.

I finally exit the cave and start floating

up to the surface again. It feels like a knife

is piercing my lungs and I’m almost breaking

the surface. I rise from the blue ocean like the

sun, with a new appreciation for pushing

myself to do what I want. Maxey says that he

needs to get us back to campus before breakfast.

This journey left me with a new love for the sea.

It was especially exciting for me because as part of the Conch Research Project, one of the leading conch experts, Catherine Booker from Community Conch, attended the symposium. It was incredible to see the author of many of the research papers I had read right in front of me, but that strange feeling gave me pride in the research I had done this semester.

After the Research Symposium, we had a little bit of down time, but afterwards, we went to a nearby settlement called Tarpum Bay for the presentation of the visiting National Geographic Photo program. But the highlight of the night was when we took part in the Junkanoo. In a Junkanoo rush-out people dress up in their traditional Junkanoo costumes, full of bright and vibrant colors, and they played loud beats from the drums and the cowbells. All of the Island School students, in addition to the visiting programs that came with us, were dancing to the beat, jumping, and having a great time. It was amazing to see the people of Tarpum Bay, the Island School, and visiting programs come together during this celebration.

We circled up at noon; I was moved to tell your children in the more intimate moment of our small circle how proud I am of the good work that has been accomplished. Yesterday after the research presentations we gathered in Hallig House to listen to key note speakers share impressions. Eric Carey, Executive Director of the Bahamas National Trust, is big in stature and huge in spirit and brutally honest; he was “blown away” by the work. Eric mentioned specifically the turtle project at Half Sound and the conch research as monumental and pioneering efforts that will encourage (he used the word force) the government to enact laws to protect and conserve these vital habitats and endangered species. As a boy growing up in Tarpum Bay he confirmed the story retold by the research team, ” when I was young we would go to Sandy Cay and load our boat with 100s of conch that sat dry at low tied and if you go back now you can not find a single conch.”

Next to speak, Mr. Sandy Mactaggart, Chancellor Emeritus University of Alberta. Sandy has dedicated his full and extremely successful life to save beautiful places; he realized that the work here by young scientists proved beyond a doubt that education as it continues to exist is tragically flawed. He then shared a story; I encourage you to read the link, http://philosophy.lander.edu/intro/introbook2.1/x874.html . Your children are producers of knowledge, they have stretched to ask and answer new questions and they are well tested and confident — watch out world!

Last to speak was the Honorable Kenred Dorsett, Minister of the Environment, Commonwealth of The Bahamas. Minister Dorsett put aside his prepared remarks; he too felt inspired to react to all that he had witnessed from the student led tour looking at how we harness renewable energy to the breadth and depth of student research presentations. He said in no uncertain terms that he would make it his priority to personally share the research with his Prime Minister and fellow members of cabinet at their scheduled meeting Tuesday. More than this he publicly announced on national TV that the student accomplishments needs to be a model to help change schools throughout the archipelago — that this Island School, a place committed to living more sustainably, needs to also be a model for how the nation wants to live, from water catchment to energy and waste management to food production. It is great to see an elected official, so often a guardian of the status quo, cheering for revolutionary change.

As we cheered the Minister, I thanked him and took the chance, which had protocol officers cringing, to compare the Honorable Minister to the Lorax. He was after all speaking out on behalf of the mangroves and the grouper, reefs and turtles and sharks and his children, the next generation He promised your children that their work would not go unnoticed and he thanked them for what they have done for The Bahamas.

I could go on with so many more stories that packed just one day and must share that those who have come many times before, grey bearded scientists and national conservation leaders, made it clear that I need to tell them, tell the young research teams and this includes the faculty, that they have truly raised the bar higher than it has ever been.

Leave it to say — I am proud,

Chris

by Ryan Schendel:

My parents always told me it started when I was four years old. According to them, we were sitting on a plane on the way to North Carolina, and I turned to my dad and asked him a question. Apparently, it was a basic question like, “Where are we going?” and “How big is this plane?” In the number of times I have heard this story from my parents, they always exaggerate more and more, but as I have been told, by the time we had landed, I had asked them hundreds of questions over the course of two hours. My dad always told me how exasperating it became, but he and my mom were glad that I turned out to be a curious boy.

I have been asking questions throughout my entire life. I always look at the world as a great wealth of information that I can learn about through asking. My teachers at school tell my parents every year that they’re amazed at how inquiring I can be and how often I ask questions, even if it eventually bothers them. My grandmother, who used to be a high school English teacher herself, has always told me, “Don’t stop your questions. You can always learn something new, you just have to ask.”

Reflecting on my life before The Island School, I came to believe that I arrived on Eleuthera because I was curious. My sister embarked on a semester in 2010, and she returned home as someone who I did not recognize anymore. She had changed in positive but drastic ways, and seemed to be extremely happy in regards to her time here. I wanted to know why. I did not want to only hear her stories about The Island School. I needed to come here and experience it myself.

Arriving on campus, something that I picked up on rather quickly was that questions drove this program. I felt comforted by the fact that we were encouraged to be curious. I knew this on our first academic day, where we were told to make a list of what we had learned and questions we still had. Even more, I saw this on our first day of research, when my advisor Ian Hamilton told our group that it was up to us to ask a question about lemon sharks, and then formulate a study behind that question. I truly felt that my curiosity would help me here more than anywhere else. Even if someone were to only look at the campus; at all of the innovative designs of sustainability that have developed here over the past thirteen years, they would understand that each of those systems were creating by someone asking, “How can we live better in a place?”

The Island School allowed me to ask questions about the world around me, not only in the community, but also in each of our classes. In our first Histories class, Emma told us we would be exploring many aspects of anthropology, ethnography, and tourism. However, she did not start the course with teaching us. Instead, she asked us a question. “What is culture?” She wanted to know what we thought culture was, or how we would define it. After having a long discussion, our class realized that culture was a term used to encompass so many different aspects of a society, and it did not have any real concrete meaning. I began to comprehend that we were just taught a lesson in Histories class completely through the use of asking a question and then continuing to ask questions. This was a pattern I began to notice in all my classes that continued throughout the entire semester. In Human Ecology, Rob asked us in our first class if we knew any common paradigms. We began to list a few, including how the world is flat, and that the universe revolves around the Earth. He shifted it into a natural resource perspective, including fresh water, fish stocks, and energy supply, and I again realized that we were in the process of being taught through asking questions. I wanted to know how studying old paradigms related to learning about solutions to global issues. I realized that by analyzing how old paradigms shift over time, I could apply the same idea of shifting ideas to current global perspectives. I knew my own worldview about the significance of overfishing, the misuse of fresh water resources, and conservation of energy definitely shifted even after that first day of class. One aspect of Human Ecology that always kept me interested throughout the semester was the fact that I, as a student, had the task of asking questions and learning about each of these issues so that I could come up with my very own solution. By asking more and more about the specifics in each unit, whether it be how much fish stocks have actually declined, or what percentage of water is privately owned in the world, I was gathering real information to apply to a solution. My questions had a new purpose. They were no longer just out of curiosity, but their answers were leading to more questions and shaping my worldview.

This idea continued to the end of the semester with our final Human Ecology projects. We were told to ask, “How can we live better in this place?” or “Where is there an issue of sustainability on campus?” Through asking myself what I felt needed to be addressed on campus, doing my own investigating, and talking to Sam about resources, Crystal about Aquaponics, and Marie about Aquaculture, I finally settled on addressing clothing on campus. After talking with Bernadette and Jake, I asked myself “How can our clothing become more sustainable?”

Looking back, I see my curiosity and comfort with asking questions as an individual strength to bring to group projects. I especially felt this during our Oral History Project. Talking with Henry and Victoria, I learned a lot about conducting ethnography. What I feel like I personally gained from that experience is that in a semi-formal interview, it is always helpful to be truly curious in whatever I’m researching. Whenever Henry or Victoria responded to one of our questions, I quickly found myself with a new question about their response. This kind of conversation builds off of itself and, at least I believe, develops into a very successful ethnography. Asking questions helps reveal more and more information, and reveal biases and the effects of Positionality. I feel as though my group experienced some of these aspects during our interviews. However, even with these limiting factors present, by asking more questions to other Deep Creek residents, it helped us determine the entire story, instead of focusing on a “single story,” of politics, religion, and history of South Eleuthera. Histories class has personally taught me to always ask questions, to never accept a story as the sole truth, to recognize that there are always biases present, and to keep everything in perspective. Applying these tools back home, I’m sure I will have a very unique experience in my History class next semester.

I have always felt strongly that in Omeros, the journeys that Achille, Plunkett, and Walcott embark on, to discover knowledge about life and their own beginnings, are all connected as parallels to each other. What I mean by this is that each character seeks to find significance in their questions through talking to sources of wisdom; whether that is Walcott talking to his father or Omeros himself, Achille traveling to Africa to discover his ancestry, or Plunkett scouring pages of documents to find meaning in his family lineage. I find these journeys to all be symbolic and related to my own journey here at The Island School. I’m sure I wasn’t considering it at the time, but I came here with questions not only without answers, but also without significance. Back home, I had been told that sustainability was important to consider and care about, and I wanted to, but I didn’t know why. I came here wondering to what limits I could push myself, and learned that my own limits are never truly my upmost potential. I learned from our Super Swim, Research Projects, Omeros, eight-day kayak, Solo, and so many other experiences, that I can always swim a little harder, learn a little more, push myself a little farther, and most importantly; ask more questions. Just like Walcott, Achille, and Plunkett learn on their own journeys for knowledge, one question can always lead to another. I learned at The Island School that this process of questions building questions is the only way to learn as much as you can. A quote from Omeros, that I believe reinforces this idea comes from Walcott as he reflects on his journey for purpose, “It was an epic where every line was erased yet freshly written in sheets of exploding surf in that blind violence with which one crest replaced another with a trench and that heart-heaving sough… however one read it, not as our defeat or our victory; it drenched every survivor with blessing”(296). I see this passage as a representation of my journey at The Island School. I am aware I will come away from this semester with good and bad experiences, and still unanswered questions. However, I personally see all of those encounters and all of those questions as learning experiences that I will hold with me forever.

When I was in Second grade at Greens Farms Academy, my teacher told my parents that she was concerned with the amount of questions that I asked in class. She expressed how she was confused with my lack of understanding of each subject and my necessity to know more. I have carried that comment with me my entire life, even to my semester here at The Island School. What I have learned from my experiences here is that questions are not an aspect of education; they are the main component of education. Whether or not that idea applies to my sending school back home, I now know it applies to everything later in life, and I have personally gained more confidence in my curiosity. I have learned that my grandmother was right; the only way I’ll ever receive the answer I’m looking for is by asking. The Island School has shown me the significance in questioning; how it is vital to so many different processes, whether they be designing a scientific study or assessing a global issue and finding solutions. My hope for what I take away from this program, is that my curiosity can be a gift, and I should begin using it.

In the afternoon, I was with my awesome advisory and we worked on our Demonstrations of Learning that we will present together on Monday. The DOLs are our final assessments, showing what we have learned here for the past three months. People can do Power Points, speeches, or any other creative way to express what they have learned.

Afterwards, I went with my kayak group, K2 (wahoooooo) to eat dinner early, and leave for our night dive. We spent a lot of time on the boat reminiscing about the wonderful 8-day kayak and down island trip we had. I was geared up with my wet suit and a change of clothing in hand for after the dive. When we finally jumped in,  it was weird to be surrounded by pitch black water. It was much different from the clear blue water I was used to. One of the highlights from our dive was when we went to bottom, turned off our flashlights, and splashed around. Suddenly, the water around us lit up with phosphorescence.  These tiny organisms glow and made the dark water sparkle all around us. It was like being surrounded by a sky of stars, but in the dark water. In addition, it was amazing to see so much marine life active in the night.

Last night during study hours, we also wrote letters to our sending schools to tell them about the experiences we’ve had here. It’s been amazing here, and I can’t believe we only have 9 days left in the semester.

The next day, Sunday, was the Super Swim. Fortunately, we were able to sleep in until 8:00 and have something to eat before the four-mile swim. Everybody was excited and ready to go by the time we got to Sunset Beach for the start. We were all ready with our neon swim caps on, lubed up with Vaseline, and in the water when the horn went off, signaling the start. The swim was much harder than I expected. There was a lot of navigating through jellyfish (not the stingy kind), and towards the two-mile mark at the Cobia, I was starving. And so that first bite of grapefruit I had after the two miles was a glorious moment in the swim. After refueling, I jumped back in the water, navigated through the jellyfish, avoided an encounter with a friendly shark, and somehow made it back to SunsetBeach. It all sounds so easy, but the swim was one of the hardest things I’ve done. When I got out of the water I was (a little dizzy) so proud of myself and relieved that I had finished. Thanks to all the supporters that came out to cheer us on, especially to Taylor, who gave me a banana towards the end and saved my life.

After giving thanks, we all sat down in the dining hall. The walls of the dining hall were decorated with the hand turkey drawings we made, as well as the final touches of the Caciques and faculty. All the tables were covered in a nice table cloth and we had special lighting went around the entire patio. The meal we had was delicious with everybody’s favorites: turkey, ham, mashed potatoes, gravy. My personal favorite was the desserts with pumpkin pie, cookies, ice cream, and much more. It was great to see the whole Island School community come together, including CEI, all the faculty, and the lovely kitchen ladies. We hope everybody back home had a great Thanksgiving.

The next update will be on Monday because we have some big, big events planned for this weekend.
Starting tomorrow is the half-marathon and the super-swim–– something that everyone has been training for since the beginning of the semester. I’m not feeling that nervous right now, but I’m sure when the time comes for me to jump in the ocean and swim four miles, I will be. But as of right now, I feel ready. The runners also seem ready for their thirteen miles. I’ve heard that they’ve been packing some serious mileage over the past couple weeks and I can’t wait to cheer them on tomorrow morning.