I once had an idea to create a badge-based program to supplement the kids curriculum. We called ourselves the Adventure Scouts and I had a logo designed and pin badge machine ordered before I had anything else figured out. We had a few friends in similar life flows who were also interested so we gave it a go.
It didn’t go far.
Our Adventure Scouts attempt was fun but the time commitment of deciding on a badge to do, deciding on the requirements for that badge, designing the badge, printing and creating it, finding a day and place to accomplish it, instructing the kids on how to complete the requirements….oy. It was a good idea but not necessarily executable in the season. So the logo-ed backpacks were hung in the closet. (Oh yes, I had a crafty vinyl-cutting friend put the Adventure Scouts logo on small backpacks I purchased at the Dollar Tree.) The pin badge machine was packed into a plastic tote and stored in the school room. And real life resumed.
But the kids kept talking about it. About the badges they’d earned. My idea wasn’t wrong. It had fit a spot that was wanting to be filled. But my whole-ass, both-feet approach caused me to trip up. I wasn’t sure what to do about it so I just sat with it.
This past weekend I had the joy of having my three nieces stay a few nights with us. We made it an adventure with a stop at a National Park, hiking with cheerio necklaces, and strawberry picking. At the National Park the kids had the opportunity to earn Junior Ranger badges. Their eyes lit up as they completed tasks that they might not otherwise be interested in (finding certain quotes from displays in the museum area, answering questions about Revolutionary War era uniforms, etc), all with the eager intent to earn. that. badge.
A lightbulb, somewhat dim, went on in my head.
When we were headed off to go for a hike the next day I told the kids that this was no ordinary hike. It was a special hike challenge. If they were able to complete the hike without whining or complaining then they would earn their No-Whine Hike Badge. I also spontaneously gave them a short list of things to look for: a gray squirrel, a yellow flower, a red berry. Y'all, they didn’t question any of it. The power of the badge worked its magic and six pairs of eyes lit up with determination not to utter one word of complaint in order to accomplish the task set before them.
And they did amazing! Not only did they find a gray squirrel, a yellow flower, and a red berry but because their eyes were on the lookout for small things they saw so many other things as well! We found trees with exposed roots, freshwater clams in the creek, the furry remains of an owl’s late night lunch. We found broken pieces of tile which we examined to see if they were bits of pottery from hundreds of years ago. (It wasn’t, but observation and deduction took place so score!) They were present and focused.
They had made the choice not to whine, and none of them did.
On the drive home from the hike we saw a sign for pick-your-own strawberries. I pulled the van into the parking lot, paired up the kids, and sent them out into the fields.
My nieces had not been strawberry picking before so it was a delight to watch their brains connect this particular food to its source. We casually talked about the growth cycle of strawberries, how the flower becomes the green hard bud which becomes the juicy red fruit. We talked about the seeds being on the outside of the fruit rather than the inside. We talked about the sunshine and the nutrients it gives to the fruit. We imagined what it would be like to be field workers and have to pick strawberries all day, every day for weeks. We relished the sweet, juicy taste of a berry eaten immediately after it had been picked.
As we clambered back into the car I heard one of them say, “I can’t believe we earned our no-whine hike badge and our first strawberry picking badge in the same day!” I couldn’t have agreed more.
When we got home I showed them how I design a badge on the computer. We measured the pins and decided on the size of badge we would need to print. I let them help me cut out the papers and put together the badges using the machine.
When my sister picked them up the next day they proudly displayed the badges they’d earned. In displaying the badges they recounted what they had done for each one.
Half-assing this thing turned out better than when I tried to control the entirety of it.
I made myself a gold-star mama badge. I'd earned it.
What I Learned: half-assing big ideas is often times the best idea.
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