Fishing for connections
Gabe came into my office before the holiday break, an unusual occurrence as our paths rarely cross on a given day or week except at the fly-tying class on Tuesday afternoons. He asked if the St. George River was “open water”, and I said that I thought so and that it was stocked in November.
“Ok, so you want to fish over break?”
Fishing in the winter in Maine is not something that I’d normally consider; in fact, I’d never taken the rod and reel out on a piece of water past the traditional trout season which ends in October. But Gabe seemed pretty invested in the idea, so I said sure, and asked him to sort out what days might work for him and that I’d arrange it with his mom.
Connecting with students about fly fishing has been one of the many things to be thankful for in this 3 year pandemic roller coaster ride. In the fall of 2021, we implemented a new component to our schedule called Focused Learning Block (FLB). This is a time during the academic day when faculty and students can explore interests, share some down time, and make connections. Our class was the brainchild of Prema Long, an LA biology teacher who was looking for a good reason to tie flies with students. In the class we have tied lots of different patterns starting with nymphs largely because they are easy to tie, use few materials, and serve as a staple in anyone’s fly box. My connection to Gabe came through this class.
Our adventures began last spring on a cool, overcast Sunday morning in May. Gabe and Sam, both members of the Fly-Tying FLB, met me at Borland Hall before 7am and we loaded into my car for a ride up to Union, Maine to fish a stretch of the St. George River. There had been some rain during the week and conditions were favorable, but I knew that catching fish was in no way guaranteed even on my favorite spot on the river. Once we’d rigged up, the three of us set out to find some water to fish. I moved into a familiar section of the river, across from a downed log at the head of a deep run that fanned out into a nice riffle. I tied on the tiny zebra midge in a two-nymph combination and in a few casts landed the first fish of the morning. A second fish brought my companions running to ask me what fly was working. From that point on we had an incredible morning of fishing; best of all, most of our catches resulted from the tiny nymph we’d tied in class!
Gabe’s and my second trip in the middle of winter posed different problems: slow takes, ice in the ferrules, and staying warm in cold running water. But none of these seemed to be as big an obstacle as the problem that materialized for Gabe when he discovered that he hadn’t packed his reel! With a failed call attempt home to his mom, he muttered under his breath and then sat down. I could see him thinking and I offered to take turns with him with my rod, which he politely refused. Somehow the idea of Tenkara, a Japanese fixed line and rod set up, came up, and before I knew it, he was off rigging up his version of a Tenkara rod. He passed the rod through a spool of 1x filament, threading the line back up through the ferrules and then tied on a leader to complete the set-up. Though I was skeptical about his chances, I found his effort and resulting product pretty inventive.
After Gabe landed a few and the cold set in, we headed back home. As I put away my gear, I couldn’t help but think about the depth of learning that had taken place over both trips: the tying of the knots to the flies, the cast, the mend, the drift, the strike, and the landing and releasing of the fish. Physics, entomology, aquatic ecosystems, art, skill, and patience all bundled together. There wasn’t a quiz or an essay, no need for an exit ticket to assess the learning that had happened, either. Their smiles were all the feedback I needed.
There is so much that can be built out to further this learning. An examination of the tensile strength of 5x leaders, an investigation of the failure mechanism of knots when they lose flies, or an aquatic life study using a seine net to find exactly what species of insect are in the water column just to name a few. A hobby like fly-fishing incorporates academic disciplines and they are easy to see, and this kind of experience is made all the richer when observing the energy and investment of students.
Building choice and engagement of student interests into curriculum is difficult work for certain, but it is essential work to do, and if this time in education during a pandemic has taught us anything, it is that students have become more discerning consumers of their own education. They have an increased awareness about the value of their time and want it to be well spent, organized, and meaningful. In many schools across the country students spent days outside of school where they prioritized between school work, socializing, and jobs. They could decide when to do their online work, especially if it was asynchronous. In our community many students worked jobs to help make ends meet and, in part, to keep them healthfully engaged when so much looked so confusing. As educators this is a wonderful gift, one that is on its face intimidating as some of the traditional methods we have used in our classes for years will be scrutinized, but it is a gift nonetheless. No doubt we will all have to change a bit to meet their expectations, and I’m excited about this change for education.