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A new generation is learning to appreciate the life of our rivers, thanks to this imaginative and successful program
Wednesday, August 23, 2000
By Patrick McShea
During the early 1950s our rivers provided a young Annie Dillard with a place to admire the practical application of knowledge. In "An American Childhood," the award-winning writer's memoir of her formative years in Pittsburgh, Dillard recalls her preteen impressions of the dams, locks, bridges and barge traffic of the lower Allegheny.
Patrick McShea works for the Division of Education at the Carnegie Museum of Natural History.
"Whenever I was on the river, I seemed to be visiting a fascinating place I had forgotten all about, where physical causes had physical effects, and great things got done, slowly, heavily, because people understood materials and forces."
The author's river visits, which occurred aboard her father's 24-foot cabin cruiser, were then uncommon Pittsburgh experiences. Opportunities for on-the-water recreation have since increased so dramatically that vantage points similar to those Dillard enjoyed are now frequently occupied by a broad spectrum of river users ranging from jet skiers and rowing crews to the camera-wielding customers of commercial sightseeing cruises.
Appreciation of river scenery undoubtedly varies with each viewer, but aboard two of our inland port's most unusual craft, students between the fifth and 12th grades are guided through a series of activities designed to make them keen and critical observers of the region's most prominent geographical features. Pittsburgh Voyager, a nonprofit education organization, uses a pair of 80-foot former U.S. Navy training vessels to operate a river-based learning center that has accommodated more than 21,000 local students in six years of service.
The battleship-gray boats, renamed Voyager and Discovery in place of the letter and number combinations each bore during decades of naval yard patrol duties in San Diego, spend nonworking hours moored to the Ohio's north shore near Carnegie Science Center. From early September until mid-December, and from mid-March to mid-June, the vessels regularly transport class groups of up to 35 students on structured 4 1/2 hour excursions that explore portions of all three rivers.
When underway, the 70-ton craft are controlled by a captain and two deckhands, while a separate teaching crew of three supervises small groups of students who rotate through a handful of learning stations.
Because tight quarters coupled with variable weather and river conditions necessitate the clear explanation of shipboard rules, roles, procedures and expectations, the flow of this critical information begins long before students set foot on deck. Teachers complete a two-day training workshop aboard one of the boats as a prerequisite to scheduling a class voyage, then use the maps, navigation charts, videotapes, work sheets and other lesson materials in a borrowed "Captain's Chest" for hours of in-class student preparation.
Two distinct class excursions are offered. "Boats, Bridges and Water" directs student observations to the engineering and building environment that Dillard so admired, and "Environmental Science on the Three Rivers" offers students the opportunity to examine the waterways as an ecosystem. Participants in the former consistently rate brief stints at the helm as the session's highlight, while memorable events of the latter often depend upon what kinds of creatures are discovered during water and bottom sediment sampling activities.
Both programs are designed to foster student inquiry, particularly when the process leads to post-voyage research projects. A student fascinated with lock and dam operations, for example, might be encouraged later to determine the drop of the Ohio's pool elevation at the Emsworth Dam, then calculate what fraction that figure is of the river's total elevation change along its 981-mile route to the Mississippi.
Continued interest in river studies is also spurred by Voyager's maintenance of an electronic database of students' onboard observations. The program's adolescent alumni are scattered across 174 schools, some located within earshot of the boats' dock-departing horn blasts, and a few from as far away as Indiana County.
Voyager staff hope the same kind of Western Pennsylvania school rivalries that pack bleachers for football games will also lead to the clicking of computer keyboards as curious students check on whether a crosstown class spotted a greater number of great blue herons on the back channel of Brunot Island, or scooped a more diverse sample of aquatic invertebrates from river bottom muck.
When Beth O'Toole, Pittsburgh Voyager's executive director, is asked about the program's success, she quickly cites the unique group of people whose discussions forged an idea for river-based education into a working model. She chooses her words cautiously, for these pioneers care so deeply about the project they've kept any personalities from being associated with its inception.
Her list includes "parents concerned about their children's declining interest in science," "a professional photographer who observed innovative education projects on out-of-town assignments," "a businessman with philanthropic interests," "an administrator with the Pittsburgh Public Schools," "a skilled sailor who works with at-risk students on an ocean-going schooner," and finally, "the former commander of an aircraft carrier, who knew of a class of Navy boats scheduled for decommission."
O'Toole next speaks enthusiastically of a broad base of community support. A directory-like list of local foundations that supplied financial support is followed by an equally long litany of the government agencies and other nonprofit organizations that provided critical "in kind" services. Assistance has been ongoing from both kinds of supporters while the program continues to establish its worth to the educational community. A range of summer camp and weekend public programs has increased revenue, but foundation support remains critical if school fees are to be kept within school budgets.
When the discussion shifts to the program's future, O'Toole expresses mild concern about where the tiny fleet will end up when the dust finally settles from all the planned North Shore construction.
She has made some short-term plans, however: Annie Dillard will get an invitation to come aboard the boats the next time she's back in town.
