Outdoor Education
Is it time to cancel Outdoor Education?
When I look at the headlines over the past few weeks, I honestly find myself wondering about the need for my role. I ask myself: Is Outdoor Education even relevant anymore?
After all, how does tying a knot help a student navigate a world of geopolitical chaos? How does climbing a rock face prepare them for an era of "alternative facts"?
In the face of such complex, high-stakes ambiguity, a walk in the woods can feel like a nostalgic indulgence—a retreat from the real world.
But then I realized: it’s exactly the opposite.
We do not take students into the wilderness to escape the "Real World." We take them there because the wilderness is the only place left where the rules of the Real World still apply.
Seventy years ago, Kurt Hahn diagnosed the "Six Declines of Modern Youth." Today, looking at the news cycle, it seems we are facing a new set of Declines.
After all, how does tying a knot help a student navigate a world of geopolitical chaos? How does climbing a rock face prepare them for an era of "alternative facts"?
In the face of such complex, high-stakes ambiguity, a walk in the woods can feel like a nostalgic indulgence—a retreat from the real world.
But then I realized: it’s exactly the opposite.
We do not take students into the wilderness to escape the "Real World." We take them there because the wilderness is the only place left where the rules of the Real World still apply.
Seventy years ago, Kurt Hahn diagnosed the "Six Declines of Modern Youth." Today, looking at the news cycle, it seems we are facing a new set of Declines.
The Decline of Assuming Responsibility
We are witnessing the Erosion of Fact. The recent denials regarding the ICE officers are a stark example of leaders denying visible evidence.
But this isn't just politics; it's the defining feature of the algorithmic age. It is becoming effortlessly easy to create content that looks real, or to manufacture "proof" to hide an uncomfortable narrative. One could argue that the solution is a deepfake detector.
But that does not address the core issue. The problem isn't the software; it's the human. The real question is: How do we build a society where we can trust others to do the right thing, even when no one is watching?
Outdoor Education offers a specific answer: The Accountability of Failure.
This comes up naturally in our field because the environment provides the space for honest failure.
If a student forgets their rain gear, they get cold. No amount of rhetoric or spin will change the temperature of their skin. They learn to acknowledge the consequences of their action and take responsibility for them.
The stakes rise when they lead others. A navigator might debate the route or insist they are correct, but if the valley ends in a cliff that isn't on the map, the debate is over.
The entire team arrives late and cooks in the dark—a shared, visible consequence that cannot be denied.
In that darkness, they learn the lesson: Their mistakes affect others. Slowly, they understand: to move the team forward, they need to take accountability.
This is where the shift happens. Accountability stops being something they fear and becomes their new normal—a habit of integrity that they carry back to civilization.
This doesn't happen by accident. It is our duty to design these opportunities. We must intentionally and regularly place youth in situations where outcomes are uncertain. As Kurt Hahn famously wrote:
But this isn't just politics; it's the defining feature of the algorithmic age. It is becoming effortlessly easy to create content that looks real, or to manufacture "proof" to hide an uncomfortable narrative. One could argue that the solution is a deepfake detector.
But that does not address the core issue. The problem isn't the software; it's the human. The real question is: How do we build a society where we can trust others to do the right thing, even when no one is watching?
Outdoor Education offers a specific answer: The Accountability of Failure.
This comes up naturally in our field because the environment provides the space for honest failure.
If a student forgets their rain gear, they get cold. No amount of rhetoric or spin will change the temperature of their skin. They learn to acknowledge the consequences of their action and take responsibility for them.
The stakes rise when they lead others. A navigator might debate the route or insist they are correct, but if the valley ends in a cliff that isn't on the map, the debate is over.
The entire team arrives late and cooks in the dark—a shared, visible consequence that cannot be denied.
In that darkness, they learn the lesson: Their mistakes affect others. Slowly, they understand: to move the team forward, they need to take accountability.
This is where the shift happens. Accountability stops being something they fear and becomes their new normal—a habit of integrity that they carry back to civilization.
This doesn't happen by accident. It is our duty to design these opportunities. We must intentionally and regularly place youth in situations where outcomes are uncertain. As Kurt Hahn famously wrote:
"Make children meet with triumph and defeat... It is our business to plunge the children into enterprises in which they are likely to fail, and we may not hush up that failure; but we should teach them to overcome defeat."
The Decline of stewardship
The recent attempt to "acquire" Greenland treats a sovereign land as a real estate listing. This is not new; we see it mirrored in the invasions of Ukraine and the forceful taking of resources globally. It is the dangerous idea that Might Makes Right—that if you have enough power, you can ignore the rules and treat the world simply as a collection of assets to be owned.
Again, this is not solved by putting countermeasures/policies to prevent misuse of power. It is about recalibrating the inner compass.
Outdoor Education offers a simple answer: Immersion.
When students travel through a landscape, they move from being "owners" to being "inhabitants." When they start appreciating the outdoors, they want to protect it. They learn that the mountain does not belong to them; they belong to the mountain.
They learn that while it is easy (and faster) to cut a switchback to get to the top, doing so damages the place for everyone else.
By building this deep emotional bond, we ensure that when our students eventually sit in boardrooms, they will not vote to sell (or destroy) the things they have learned to love.
Again, this is not solved by putting countermeasures/policies to prevent misuse of power. It is about recalibrating the inner compass.
Outdoor Education offers a simple answer: Immersion.
When students travel through a landscape, they move from being "owners" to being "inhabitants." When they start appreciating the outdoors, they want to protect it. They learn that the mountain does not belong to them; they belong to the mountain.
They learn that while it is easy (and faster) to cut a switchback to get to the top, doing so damages the place for everyone else.
By building this deep emotional bond, we ensure that when our students eventually sit in boardrooms, they will not vote to sell (or destroy) the things they have learned to love.
The Journey ahead
We do not go out to escape the complexities of the modern world; we go out to calibrate our compasses so we can return to it.
We are not just training hikers, sailors, kayakers, or rock climbers. We are training Citizens of Consequence to survive—and perhaps repair—the valley below.
I believe our job is more important now than ever before. It is our duty to provide students with the opportunity to find truth in a world that is increasingly losing sight of it—by immersing them in nature, and giving them the freedom to fail and the courage to own it.
In 2026, the outdoors is not a luxury. It is the specific antidote for the modern struggles.
We are not just training hikers, sailors, kayakers, or rock climbers. We are training Citizens of Consequence to survive—and perhaps repair—the valley below.
I believe our job is more important now than ever before. It is our duty to provide students with the opportunity to find truth in a world that is increasingly losing sight of it—by immersing them in nature, and giving them the freedom to fail and the courage to own it.
In 2026, the outdoors is not a luxury. It is the specific antidote for the modern struggles.
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