Last month, my family and I went on a week-long adventure to tour the National Parks in Utah. It was an amazing trip full of great hikes, road trips, and quality time with family. It’s something I’ve been wanting to do for a long time. We saw Arches, Canyonlands, Capitol Reef, Bryce, and Zion National Parks, along with some state parks and slot canyons along the way.
The slot canyons were beautiful. Because of how they are formed (water and wind flow through cracks in rocks under particular climate conditions over millions of years), each is unique and stunning.
One of the things that struck me as we hiked through the slot canyon pictured above, is how quickly things became narrow and full of obstacles. There were boulders to climb over, rock walls to scale, and problems to solve as we hiked through every section.
Some of us took a more risky path than others. My sons especially, loved to climb through the narrowest sections like Spider-Man, scooting along the rock walls with their hands and feet. Some of us got through the canyon quickly and others took their time. But we all had to keep going.
There were many life lessons hidden in those canyon walls that resemble ones we’ve encountered along our education journey:
Quitting wasn’t an option.
No matter how tired or frustrated we got, we couldn’t simply say, “I’m done.” Slot canyons are narrow. You have to keep moving because other hikers are trying to pass. Even though the deep, narrow parts are cool and protected from the sun, eventually that wouldn’t be enough. You would run out of food and water, not to mention night would fall and you would need shelter. Quitting was not an option.
As we learn and grow, we have to keep moving. There is never a time when learning ends. We must remain open to new possibilities even when things get narrow and difficult. Deciding to go in a different direction is not the same as quitting. “Keep going” is really “keep growing.”
Slow was still forward.
Sometimes we were moving slowly because we needed to survey the area and figure out how to move through it. Other times we were moving slowly because we had stopped to refuel or take in our surroundings’ beauty. But everyone was still able to go at their own speed. If a group of hikers behind us needed to get by, we figured out how to make it happen, shimmying closer to the wall or lending them a hand to climb or cross. Everyone was kind and cordial and respected everyone else’s pace.
In our fast-paced world, any sign of “slow” is often labeled as wrong or problematic. We don’t take into account the learner’s need to stop and figure things out, delve deeply into what they are doing, or be led by their curiosity alone. But slow is still forward. And growth and meaningful development can still happen at a slow speed.
Fast was necessary at times.
Hiking through some parts of the canyon necessitated a quicker pace for the sake of momentum. I vividly remember walking behind my mom. She was so determined to get through despite some issues with her knee. She said she needed to take advantage of the moments when she had the energy to keep going. Some parts of the canyon were easier to navigate and it was more appropriate to speed up as we moved through them.
Fast is not wrong and speed can be fun. “Slowschooling” is about finding the balance that works for you and your family. In truth, it incorporates elements of both fast and slow. It is about what is necessary, valuable, and meaningful at any given time.
Obstructions taught us how to overcome them.
Every boulder we climbed over taught us a new lesson. There were obstacles I needed to climb using my arms and legs and others I could do nothing but sit down and slide on my bottom. Not to mention how comfort and ease didn’t always mean it was the right path. There were times when the “right way” had the most obstacles.
It’s the same with learning. It shouldn’t always be a struggle. In fact, we can do difficult things in a relaxed state of mind. But resiliency is what we need to keep growing. We often learn it through discomfort.
Problems often required planning.
Whenever we encountered a part of the trail that wasn’t obviously marked or seemed to present various options for going in a particular direction, we stopped to discuss what we should do. We didn’t all choose the same methods for crawling through small spaces or dealing with high elevations but we considered the options together and considered each other’s limitations.
A plan of approach for how we will accomplish something is often necessary. It doesn’t mean we won’t have to adjust along the way, but a plan helps us to stay focused. Plan your studies, projects, and semesters! And when you need to detour or gather more information, brainstorm and collaborate with your children!
Nourishment was essential.
I am so glad an entire suitcase for this trip was dedicated to trail snacks. I didn’t want to have to worry about getting them when we arrived in Utah due to the dietary restrictions of some within our group. It was so much easier to have that prepared beforehand. Needless to say, we came back with an empty suitcase. Out on those trails, nourishment was a necessity — food and water. There were so many signs posted at the parks about remembering to hydrate. Rangers constantly reminded visitors to drink some water.
We can’t attempt to take any journey, physical or educational, and not expect to need nourishment. Replenishment. Rest. Sustenance. Our bodies need these things. We have to slow down long enough to recognize that and respect it.
Every pause was an opportunity to appreciate beauty.
Every time we stopped along the hike, someone noticed a nearby critter, a chipmunk, the quality and color of the sandstone, or some other natural phenomenon. We couldn’t help it. Our pauses even became moments to notice someone’s effort, encouraging them to continue or to take a group photo.
We can’t keep pushing to a goal or destination without appreciating where we are and how far we have come. Never forget to stop and celebrate. Celebrate small wins. Notice progress. Find beauty in who your children are today, not who you’re waiting for them to become. How we are changing and growing on our educational journeys are the poignant pieces of the process that are the whole point of it all.
So there you have it. There I was in the canyons of Utah, celebrating The Joy of Slow.
