Pace Paw Print

A crisp wind ruffles my hair as it sifts through the room. I glance toward it's gentle touch feeling the fingers of the breeze caress my face as I gaze though the window opened just enough to allow in a constricted quantity of air to circulate within without allowing in too much of the balmy chill of the outdoors.

The branches of the tree just beyond the glass dance, shaking their leaves rhythmically to the melody of the zephyr momentary and then grow still as the airstream recesses. But the outdoors does not pause its daily activities. A scarlet wisp of color catches my eye and I watch as the cardinal perches on one of the branches freckled with the first hints of yellowing foliage.

I smile as I watch him hop purposefully from one perch to the next as if searching for the best place to view trees beginning to resemble the vibrant, multicolored hues of an artist's palette that stretch across Westchester. A disoriented honk begins to echo within my ear drum distracting me from the transforming vegetation. I glance toward the sky, expectantly searching to the familiar "V" shaped silhouette of Canadian Geese crossing the dazzling turquoise sky. I do not see them. Perhaps they are on the other side of the building. But I ponder over their passing as I had so many times this season and wonder…

"So, it is through that process that..."

The professor's words seem to ambush me suddenly, snatching my attention away from the outdoors. My eyes roll away from the window to the front of the confined room to gaze at the series of encryptions written in royal blue marker on the board and I push away the questions that the geese has brought upon me.

I had heard the migrating flocks more than ever this year, even in Queens, and I wonder why such a high population seemed to be going south this year instead of staying in the North to survive on handouts of bread. But I cannot question the professor about this phenomenon or request that maybe we conduct some kind of outdoor study on the topic.

I cannot be concerned about the happenings of the planet that are occurring just outside the window. Instead I must listen to a lecture, learn theories, look at pictures, and a read a textbook. I must learn from a secondary source.

I sigh deeply as instinctively my right hand begins to move again allowing the pen I clutch to inscribe notes across the open pages of the notebook in front of me. But another question lingers in my mind; one that has dwelled in my thoughts for what seems an eternity and, try as I might, I cannot push it away.

I am an Environmental Studies major and the occasions like the once described above have occurred almost daily since I entered the University in 2005. Occasions that cause me to ponder how I am supposed to learn about the outdoors while I am indoors.

I have never understood the phenomenon. I have learned of the ecosystem from watching cardinals outside my classroom window, leaning over a canoe to snatch a bullfrog, spying on raccoons as they raid the dumpster, and watching crows squawk as they harass red hawks.

I have experienced first hand the degradation of the environment. I have witnessed the tragic scene of trees severed and strewn across the forest floor as a doe followed by her two fawns stepped miserably over the desolate destruction passing the newly erected foundation of a massive house.

It is what I have experienced in nature that has not only inspired my passion for it, but has also provided me with an irreplaceable and vital education. Yes, knowing the technical terms and comprehending the theories associated with the discipline is important, I will admit.

But what good is it if you have nothing to link it to? It is only half of an education. Seeing a snake swallow a toad or looking regretfully at sludge consuming a river supplies the student with more information than a book or lecture ever will on its own.

David Polis once said, "Must we always teach our children with books? Let them look at the mountains and the stars up above. Let them look at the beauty of the waters and the trees and the flowers on Earth. They will then begin to think and to think is the beginning of real education." He could not be more correct in his opinion. Children should be able to explore the world around them so that they can develop a concern for the planet. But, the quotation holds true for the college student as well, especially the environmental studies and science majors.

In my two years at Pace University, I have never taken an environmental class dedicated exclusively to field studies. Yes, I had taken several classes that included a few field trips and some ventures around the campus and for this I am truly grateful. Yet, it is not enough. Having classes that include only a few outdoor expeditions and/or none at all does not prepare the environmental studies and science majors sufficiently for their careers in the future. To save the environment we must know it hands on. Theory is important, I will not deny that, but it must be supplemented by experience that goes the beyond the enhancement of gazing out the window.

Therefore, I believe that the course requirements for environmental studies and science majors are lacking and incomplete. To truly prepare environmental studies and science majors for their careers in the future, a class dedicated exclusively to field studies taught in an "outdoor education" fashion ought to be designed and added to the series of required classes for both the environmental studies and science majors at Pace University.

Furthermore, I would suggest that the class be open to all majors as not to deprive them from an enriching experience that may nurture within them a greater concern for our world. It is only through the combination of theory and experience that will begin students to gain the knowledge they need to comprehend, protect, preserve and respect the Earth we share.

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