Cape Eleuthera Institute One Teacher's Experience

by Gregg Hensley, Creekwood Middle School, Kingwood, Texas

What is CEI? CEI, the Cape Eleuthera Institute, is a research and development center born out of the need to address environmental concerns in The Bahamas and The Caribbean. It grew out of the Island School, a semester and summer program for students worldwide centered on marine and island ecology and resource management, alongside Deep Creek Middle School, an independent school for local teens with a similar focus. All are funded by the Cape Eleuthera Foundation, established by New Jersey teacher Chris Maxey while working on his Masters in Marine Resource Management through the University of Miami. His vision for a focus on development and design practices for "sustainable living," as well as various research initiatives pertinent to the Bahamian ecology and economy, led to its founding and growth in the late 1990s.

How did I get there and why? JASON Learning, a non-profit organization which links students to real science and real exploration, hosts expeditions each year which immerse select groups of students and teachers in a full-blown outdoor experience, enabling them to bring this experience home and add value to their schools' curricula. Founded in 1989 by Titanic discoverer Bob Ballard, its focus has grown from marine ecology to other areas such as geology and climate. In 2014 my school district, Humble ISD, received its first year of a grant from Chevron Corporation, allowing it to send one student and one teacher representative on a JASON expedition via Cape Eleuthera Institute that summer. Each applicant had to submit a personal video and a set of essays

detailing why he or she should be awarded the trip. A student I sponsored from my campus qualified for the trip that first year, along with another teacher from a different campus. The second year, 2015, I received the teacher award for the same expedition, along with a student from the high school into which my campus feeds. Needless to say, I felt very fortunate to have had my campus and our high school represent our rather large district in both of the first two years of this award.

Humble ISD representatives Marshall Hartung (L) and myself (R)

The Journey to Eleuthera With a contingent of seven teachers, seven students and two JASON hosts, we rendezvoused in Atlanta for a day or two of game-planning and team-building, including a trip to the world-class Georgia Aquarium, a tour of CNN world headquarters, and a friendly game of whiffle ball in downtown Atlanta's scenic Centennial Olympic Park. From there, we flew to the Bahamian capital of Nassau, boarding a prop plane east to the nation's island of Eleuthera. In flight, the meaning of the name "Bahamas," or "shallow seas," became crystal clear as we approached our destination. The water was so shallow and clear, that it appeared as though we were flying over bright blue sand dunes, a view not seen anywhere else of which I am aware. This sight alone may have been worth the trip.

Upon landing, we hopped aboard a pair of CEI vans and were chauffeured by our two very kind, young CEI hosts, Stan and Kristen, about 45 minutes south to the top tip of the "whale tail" which whips upward from the bottom of this narrow island. We arrived at a picturesque compound of organically-

styled facilities surrounded by a lush spread of tropical foliage one would expect to see only in a travel brochure.

CEI Operations Philosophy The entire complex at CEI operates as a somewhat of a laboratory for what has come to be known as "sustainable living." This concept attempts to minimize resource use and impact on the local environment. As with any manner of living, its top concerns are of course water, food, energy and shelter, not to mention waste disposal and medical care. Optimizing them all and delivering the same comforts to which modern humans are accustomed is a work in progress, and CEI is a case study toward that end.

Water Water is a scarce commodity in the Bahamas. At the Institute, it is collected in cisterns whenever it rains. The building roofs channel rainwater through downspouts into them, after which it is filtered to remove particulates and most microorganisms, then put through UV exposure to kill anything that remains. We all got a chuckle as a frog was revealed when Kristen opened a cistern to show us its contents, whereupon we were immediately assured that any contaminants it produced would be dispatched by the system. Conservation practices to which we had to adhere included the use of waterless urinals, which worked wonderfully, and taking "military" style showers. We were even instructed: "If it's yellow, let it mellow; if it's brown, wash it down," an admonition that is posted with some degree of humor in every bathroom stall on campus. Some of the wastewater is even circulated to an area where it is mixed with compost to create fertilizer for banana trees and certain other plants, not a comforting thought at first, but prudent nevertheless. I'm not sure exactly what is done with gray-water, the water that drains from showers and sinks and such, but I'd be surprised if it weren't put to good use watering something.

Food Food is a mix of locally-grown and imported. The campus has a small farm, only a couple of acres, which is home to fruits, vegetables, goats, pigs and chickens. Some of the animals' food comes from dinner plates from the campus kitchen, as all diners are required to categorize and scrape all uneaten food fragments into buckets labeled "compost," "chickens," and "pigs." All organisms are raised in as natural an environment as possible; i.e., free-range, with minimal use of chemicals, if any. Each has its role in this mini-ecosystem, such as decomposition, consumption, turning the soil, and fertilization. It was a treat seeing the animals living and interacting here, especially when the roosters sounded off. It reminded me that what used to be commonplace in a bygone day, is no longer so.

Aquaponics, a synthesis of hydroponics and aquaculture, provides another food source at CEI. Tilapia are raised here in tanks, and can be seen at all phases of development. They are fed a natural diet, and their waste is channeled into hydroponics tanks, in which vegetables such as lettuce are grown. The plants help filter the water, which is recirculated into the fish tanks. Both are harvested, prepared and consumed on campus.

Medicinal herbs are grown in a separate garden near the kitchen. From these, teas are occasionally brewed, in concoctions valued for prevention of various minor human ailments.

Energy CEI has three primary sources of energy: the sun, wind and biodiesel. The majority of the power for electricity is harnessed through solar panels, which are ubiquitous on campus. One windmill pierces the sky, generating a much smaller portion of the kilowatts needed. The net result is enough power to run lighting, fans, kitchen refrigeration, some land lines, cell phone chargers and computers, with limited internet. There is limited storage capacity for electricity that can be used when the sun is not out, as at this point in the life of CEI a high-volume battery storage system does not seem to be practical. There is little if any power provided by generators, due to limited biofuel which is currently used only for vehicles. Water is heated in solar thermal tanks. On a sunny day, in the morning the water is hot, in the afternoon hotter, and by evening scalding. This was a surprise and quite impressive. Air conditioning is not available with current solar technology, or at least not affordable, so we Argonauts had to learn to live with the sweat and stay continually hydrated. We had to use the internet sparingly, and no room in any building was lit until after dusk. Any time a building was exited, day or night, all unneeded power was to be turned off. All fans in meeting areas ran on timers, just in case someone forgot to turn one off. These were fairly easy habits to master, and not too much to ask of anyone in any environment.

Biodiesel is manufactured at a small processing plant in a hidden corner of the complex, fed by a generous supply of used cooking oil delivered by a cruise line. It powers a fleet of older model diesel SUVs which were purchased at a discount. I don't believe it is used to power any of the boats docked here, though I might be mistaken. I wish I'd asked about that. When we approached the processing plant, we could immediately smell the aroma of cooking oil, an interesting sensory experience that seems out of place at first, until one realizes what is being done here. It was encouraging to hear Stan extol its virtues, even though it isn't yet the ideal fuel. Biodiesel is very clean-burning, but is still presenting some maintenance problems. Fuel filters have to be changed out routinely, and gas tanks have to be unmounted and cleaned out regularly, neither of which are tasks even the average fleet manager could cope with, much less the average driver. But the frequency of this maintenance has been on the decline, so there is certainly hope for this technology as it seems to be continually improving.

Shelter Every consideration was taken in the design of all structures, to assure that minimal resources were used and impact on the environment was reduced. Even the insulation in some of the walls was made from, of all things, old blue jeans. Some of the building foundations were constructed in part from compressed automobile tires. Even paint was a factor. Nearly every surface is painted white to minimize heat absorption. Rooftops support solar photovoltaic panels and thermal water tanks. Some buildings sport "green" roofs, on which plants are grown to help cool the interior. Special metal slats adorn the sides of some buildings, serving to radiate heat out of their walls There are meeting rooms, classrooms and dormitories which currently accommodate somewhere between 50 and 100 people, with more under construction, as well as a kitchen/dining hall, a boat house and other special purpose facilities.

Waste Disposal There is, theoretically, no trash at CEI. The word "resource" is used instead. Any material that might be thrown away in other societies is instead separated into large recycling containers and dealt with accordingly. We were given the impression that the Bahamian recycling system is not yet on par with that of the U.S., as some of these materials, such as cans, still have to be burned, but it appears to be improving. Human waste, as mentioned before, is combined with compost for fertilization of certain vegetation. I am not exactly sure how much waste that particular process accounts for. I had been fully prepared to try out a "composting toilet" that is current talk among the ecology set, but none were present on campus. Perhaps their use is something easier said than done on such a large scale. I'd like to know more about it. Health and Safety There is no hospital on the island, and no resident doctor on campus. A flight to Nassau would be the only solution in the event of a dire emergency. Certain residents and hosts who come and go, though, are certified to different levels of paramedical skills and on-call in the event of emergency. And as expected, many are qualified for ocean rescue. Special care is taken with guests to ensure that such

personnel are present or readily available as circumstances dictate. Our hosts Stan and Kristen, who were both certified to various skills, urged us to report even the most minor injury or irritation, coaching us to err on the side of caution, and to do whatever we could to mitigate any sort of irritant such as a rash or chafe, so that discomfort or pain would not hamper our ability to run full-tilt on any adventure. That effort paid off handsomely for us all.

Daily Living at CEI Chores All who dwell on campus at CEI are expected to pitch in to support operations and keep everything clean. We each had to sign up for several turns at kitchen duty (except for cooking, which was hired out), whether for breakfast, lunch or dinner. The workload and frequency varied depending upon how many people were on-site at any given time. With a daily flow in-and-out of interns, researchers and the like, the mix fluctuated from what seemed like about 80 people to about 20 during the five days and nights we were there. Daily chores included a few minutes of floor sweeping and light restroom duty in the dorms, with a "deep clean" on the final night of our stay. The whole apparatus, kitchen duty included, runs on an honor system, and everyone seems to get their part done. Dining Meal time runs on a strict schedule: 8:15 for breakfast, 12:15 for lunch, and 6:15 for dinner, with kitchen volunteers eating first. When meal time is over, you are done. There is no other food source, so you need to eat while you can. No one seems to go hungry; there are often seconds available. No snacks of any kind may be brought onto campus, though, to eliminate trash and to combat pests. Occasionally a tub of GORP (good ol' raisins & peanuts) might show up between meals, but it is put together only by certain personnel and kept, presumably, in a secure location and brought out only for high-energy activities, such as an all-day deep-sea operation. The food was of course different, but good. For dinner there was usually one hot, meat-centered entree, with a vegetarian entree alongside it. One night we had lamb, another pork, another burgers, and I don't recall the rest, but they were all tasty. Believe it or not, we didn't have one ounce of seafood. I suppose the harvest just wasn't in at the time. Sides usually included various salads and one preparation or another of quinoa, usually cold. I'd never had it before and found it quite enjoyable. It's a bit bland, but hearty, with a good texture, and can be mixed with all sorts of stuff to make it more interesting. Lunch was usually comparable, and breakfast was fairly traditional fare which varied daily. At breakfast we each managed to get about 6 ounces of orange juice, which was the only opportunity all day to have a drink other than water. It was a welcome sight every morning.

Every day, priority number one was hydration, and it could be found in only two places: at one sink in the office, and at a spigot outside the kitchen. We carried personal squirt bottles, as no disposables were allowed, and we refilled at every opportunity, repeatedly reminded to do so by Stan and Kristen. We each drank somewhere around 8-to-10 bottles a day in order to stay hydrated in the tropical heat. Whenever a group would leave the island, a 5-gallon jug of water was at the top of the cargo checklist. Critters Day and night we were in the company of bat moths whenever we were on campus. Bat moths are black and have a 5"-to-6" wingspan. They were harmless and only a mild annoyance, and after startling us upon first encounter, quickly became a source of amusement. Much more troublesome, though, were the biting bugs. Though we slathered ourselves in repellant at the appropriate times, we nevertheless all succumbed to the itchy welts inflicted by sand fleas and "no-see-ums." Some of us had symptoms immediately. Others, including me, didn't realize we'd been bitten until we'd gotten back to the U.S. and the itching began, along with about a two-week healing process. It was not a pleasant experience, but if I had to do it all l over again, I'd go back! It was worth it.

Sleep Even under the wind of a few fans, the heat inside the dorms in the summer is something that requires adjustment, or in the absence of that, ingenuity at the very least. I personally coped by soaking my sleepwear in water and going to bed wet. This provided a significant degree of cooling, and by morning I was dry and so was the bed. No one in my dorm, though, seemed interested in copying my idea. They missed out!

Adventures With CEI

Merely living on campus was an adventure in itself, but our stay on Eleuthera offered much more. Our typical schedule began with a 6:30 a.m. meeting in the "Octagon," an eight-sided multi-purpose room festooned with timer-driven fans, dry-erase boards, a video screen and the like. Here, we'd meet to launch the day's schedule. Our first activity was always some form exercise, be it volleyball, a hike, yoga or snorkeling, followed by breakfast at the appointed time. Then our Argonaut team would launch on its daily missions. After the day's and night's activities wound down, we'd reconvene at the Octagon for planning, debriefing, reflection, sharing, journaling and blog postings, shutting down around 9:00 p.m. Day 1 - Campus Tour Upon arrival from Nassau about midday, we received the complete educational tour of the campus. Stan and Kristen gave us a behind-the-scenes view of all of the operations detailed above, complete with narration detailing how it all worked and how our daily living routine would commence. Then we got a look at one undertaking that is a continuous effort at the Institute, the management of a small mangrove ecosystem that juts in from the ocean and across part of campus. Mangroves are an interesting variety of shrub which grow in and around shallow seawater inlets, and have a root system that extends above the ocean floor to provide a habitat for small marine life. This particular ecosystem apparently was near destruction until CEI moved in and began its conservation efforts. From the boardwalk bridge across it, we were shown how lemon sharks, jellyfish and other creatures were studied and managed in concert with the tides, which visibly altered the scenery every day as they flowed in and out.

Day 2 - Tilapia Harvest, Snorkeling Shortly after breakfast the Argonaut crew took a quick swim test in a small cove which accommodated the boat house, and practiced using our snorkel gear. Someone had asked about bathroom practices the day before and been told "we go in the ocean," so this morning's lesson integrated an amusing sequence of hand signals to be used when warning our comrades of our status: "need to go, going, just went." I anticipated that, at my age, I'd need to be fairly adept at this new language, so I paid close attention! In our practice area, we got to see and touch conchs in their natural environment. Though considered endangered, here they are prolific, so much so that after their demise their empty shells are literally piled upon the shore like so much refuse. Naturally, I asked about taking one home, only to be informed of dire consequences at the hands of Bahamian authorities should I get caught trying to smuggle one off the island. My disappointment was fleeting, though, as the morning ended for me with the close-up spotting (and filming!) of a stingray, camouflaged under the sand, emerging almost unseen and then scurrying across the ocean floor in avoidance of the humans. Quite a stirring sight!

We then broke for a viewing of the tilapia tanks, followed by an eel dissection featuring audience participation, and then a tilapia "harvest." Here our students, with assistance from seasoned filet artists such as myself, were shown how to carve their carcasses for future consumption. Watching some of the more squeamish students' grimaces turn to grins as they mastered their surgical techniques was undoubtedly the highlight of this experience. Unfortunately, at no point in our stay had enough filets accumulated to feed our crew, so we were ironically, after salivating over our kill, denied a seafood meal from the CEI kitchen for the entire stay. That alone might be enticement for a return trip!

After a hearty, healthy though fish-less lunch at the kitchen, we were able to put our newly-honed snorkeling skills to good use, as we set out to explore a live coral reef. My student and I were the first (and only ones that day, I believe) to start diving down rather than merely floating at the surface. At the beginning, I couldn't make it work. I'd try to go down, and my air-filled body would offer so much resistance I'd bounce right back to the surface after descending only 3 or 4 feet. Stan zeroed in on my frustration and gave me a personal lesson on how to quickly form my body into sort of a jackknife position by lurching my hindquarters upward, pointing my arms downward, and shooting toward the ocean floor with a quick, forceful leg kick. From then on, it was off to the races. We were soon able to view all kinds of coral close-up in shapes too numerous to mention, the most fascinating of which, for me, was the brain coral, a giant one probably a foot in diameter, in the shape of its namesake. The day saw its end, as usual, with another healthy meal at the kitchen, followed by planning and debriefing at the Octagon. We repeated what had become our nightly ritual, the sharing of each Argonaut's "rose, thorn and bud" for the day. The "rose" was the highlight, the most meaningful experience or moment of the day. The "thorn" was the situation that could have used some improvement. The "bud" was whatever was viewed with the most anticipation for the next day. This was always a special bonding experience, a time of reflection, encouragement and affirmation for the entire crew. Nobody ever had any serious "thorns." Everyone was having too good a time. Day 3 - Lionfish, Banyan Tree, and a Special Dinner A major focus of learning, research and activism at CEI is the subject of invasive species, in particular the lionfish. Thought to have been introduced to the Caribbean by aquarium-dumpers in the late 1990's, these non-native fish have begun to decimate local ecosystems and seriously threaten the fishing industry. CEI has been at the forefront of educational initiatives not only on the island, but throughout the Caribbean, carrying a "You slay, we pay" banner to encourage fishermen to not just catch these voracious consumers, but also sell them for food. It turns out that these creatures, though not as easy to catch as others (many must be speared), make quite tasty meals, and their colorful fins and venomous spines make rather snappy jewelry. All of this fascinating information was presented on-screen in the Octagon that morning by capable scholars who happened to be at the Institute. Of course, no mere presentation would be immersive enough to meet CEI standards of student involvement, so our gracious presenters facilitated a hands-on lionfish dissection. As interesting as the scientific part of this activity was, seeing students who could scarcely stomach fileting a tilapia the day prior dive headlong

into this operation was even more satisfying, one of the many times in which they came out of their shells and tried new things without trepidation.

A quick trip to the CEI store rounded out our morning. In an upstairs room in one of the buildings, one of the locals opened this "store," basically a large cabinet, to reveal a neatly arranged assortment of shirts, booklets and other items to commemorate our trip. My radar alerted me immediately to the word "Institute" featured prominently in the CEI logo on one of the attractive, muted-hue T-shirts. What educator wouldn't feel worthy of respect and admiration showing up at school wearing a shirt touting his or her presence at "The Institute?" I cheerfully bought two. The afternoon presented what was, to me, the highlight of the trip, despite its occurrence on land rather than sea. A ride north in a CEI van, and a short hike off the road, led us to a very unusual sight: a banyan tree. Only a photo could begin to convey the spectacle that is one of these life forms, or even better, a video. Approaching it, one sees what appears to be not just one tree, but hundreds, in a seemingly random matrix of trunks and branches which, upon a closer look, are revealed to be joined together in a single entity, spreading its structure over thousands of square feet and creating a canopy that envelops and captivates all who wander underneath. The tree propagates when birds carry its seeds and drop them into other trees. The seeds form roots which branch toward the ground while strangling their host trees, then form trunks and join together. It is not native to The Bahamas, so there is some speculation as to how it got there. Although it doesn't appear to be taking over the island any time soon, I suppose it could be argued that it might be invasive. But since it has taken over 80 years to expand to its current area, I would assume there isn't much to fear.

With the banyan tree hike having been only a brief expedition, we had time to explore something else on the island, a "blue hole" formation named Ocean Hole, in Rock Sound, the place where we flew in when we landed on the island. Some of these are deep sink-holes in shallow seas, plunging several hundred feet in depth. This one is inland, cut out of rock and filled with brackish water, maybe 100 feet deep, but fed by a mysterious passageway from the ocean that may be several hundred feet deep and is thought to traverse perhaps hundreds of miles. It offered us a safe jump off a short cliff, maybe 15 feet high, and some interesting snorkeling near its edge, where we saw schools of small fish congregating.

After a day of rare sights, we were treated to our only off-campus meal at a family-owned restaurant in a small village closer to the Institute. Sharil's Inn is the archetypical island dining establishment, very different from what we are accustomed to in the U.S. as far as how it operates, but not so in terms of its cuisine. Situated in a small house, it serves what would be considered traditional American fare with a few island dishes, with the majority served as take-out. In order to dine in, an appointment must be made, with the menu items ordered in advance, and the owner or staff member serves your party and maybe one or two others that night. We ordered a meal featuring several courses of truly expertly prepared fare including chicken wings, baked mac-and-cheese, vegetables and, commensurate with our mission, fried strips of lionfish. With some degree of fear I worked up the nerve to try a piece, and was very pleasantly surprised. Lionfish have a mild flavor, and a texture and firmness somewhere between fish and chicken. Battered and fried, they were delicious. I wouldn't hesitate to have them again, and would recommend them to a friend. CEI is onto something!

After dinner, we set out for a night of stargazing at an abandoned airfield. Though the clouds would not cooperate, we nevertheless made an evening of it as we shared accounts of our experiences, traded teaching and learning philosophies, and traded gifts we'd brought on the trip. Our bond as a team had by this time strengthened significantly. Day 4 - Deep Sea The morning saw half of our Argonauts launch out to deep sea (600 meters being the definition of "deep"), accompanied by graduate student and researcher Mackey Violich. She had given us a run-down the day before of her research subjects, including a variety of isopods found at the depths over which we'd soon be floating. Isopods are crustaceans found all over the earth in different sizes and environments, the largest being those of the genus Bathynomus, which resemble giant white bugs with segmented exoskeltons. Mackey had recently discovered two new species of these creatures, gaining an impressive level of recognition for a grad student. She and her team had been managing an array of cages placed at the depths at which these particular isopods dwell, and today we were going to pull one up and see what it might contain.

In route to our deep sea destination in a small center-console craft, we were finally presented with a tub of the renowned GORP for our energy needs. Someone had planted unauthorized materials amidst these good ol' raisins and peanuts: chocolate chips. For that, we were thankful. While Mackey and student volunteers attempted to reel the cage in, normally an hour-and-a-half process, a few of us jumped ship and went for a swim. Peering down through our masks, we could see only dark, cobalt blue, a color unlike anything we'd ever seen. As we enjoyed our time in the ocean, we nearly got separated from the boat by the current, but managed after a long swim to re-board, only to discover that the pull-up wasn't going as planned. Due to electrical issues with the winch system, we had to abort the mission, but the other half of our team, who went out the next day, were successful after equipment repairs had been made the night before. Their catch featured an assortment of isopods, which were examined and appreciated by our eager students.

Humble ISD student Marshall Hartung displaying a deep-sea isopod.

Upon arrival, some of us managed to squeeze in about an hour-and-a-half of just soaking in the surf near the dorms, our only stretch of down-time the entire trip, not that we were ever particularly desirous of one, given the fun we were all having on our adventure. But this was the first time we'd had a chance to really take in the scenery right out our back door. It was nice! The water is as clear, blue and temperate as one would imagine it to be in such a place. Only a good meal would coax us back to dry land.

Day 5 - Sharks, Mangroves and the Long Goodbye For our final mission, we set out to explore a mangrove ecosystem a short boat ride away, one much larger and perhaps more diverse than the one on campus, and to re-capture a tagged young lemon

shark that had been released by a CEI team several days before. We arrived at a very unique seascape, a shallow bay or "creek" as it is known here. Sandbars rose gently out of the 2-to-3-foot deep water, which would recede and expose even more material as the tide let out later in the day. Mangroves of three different varieties decorated both land and sea, and Kristen eloquently described their distinguishing characteristics as we slogged between patches of these unique shrubs. We spent the morning snorkeling from plant to plant, watching as small fish and other organisms darted in and out of the root systems that rose out of the seabed, taking care to avoid colonies of jellyfish that lay in our path, their tentacles streaming up from the bottom toward our exposed flesh.

Putting our snorkeling expedition on hold midday, we set about the task of containing our shark. Led by CEI shark team member Ian, our student Argonauts helped spread a long net two-hundred feet or so across the inlet. He explained that the young ones returned to this same spot daily, and by this time should have arrived. Ian's confidence in his unbroken record of re-capture fueled our anticipation that we might soon hold a live shark in our hands, and to our delight, it happened. As we took a breather for lunch and rested on the shore, surely enough we saw our youngster darting about in the water only a few feet away, on the correct side of the net, its bright blue dorsal fin tag confirming its identity. Now it was only a matter of watching the tide go out as it coaxed this sleek fish in the direction of the net. Ian soon deftly trapped his catch, and the fun began. Ian and his assistant placed the shark in a cooler full of seawater and gently cut off its tag, an accelerometer which had been recording data to be downloaded and studied in order to analyze its behavior. Then he let each of us hold the 2-or-3-foot long specimen, and caress the directional nap of its very specialized skin, which felt characteristically rough when stroking toward the head, and velvety-smooth when stroking toward the tail, the way in which water would flow as the shark raced toward its prey. Satisfied that he would have the data he needed, Ian then released our shark back to freedom. But our catch wasn't complete yet. As luck would have it, we captured more than a shark that day: a pufferfish, a moon jellyfish and, after we formed a continuously closing circle with our net, a beautiful green sea turtle. Placing the amphibian in his lap like a puppy, Ian gave us a lesson on its shell and let us take its measurements. Painted with a mesmerizing swirl of greens, reds and browns, it is no wonder that the exoskeleton of this animal was so coveted for use in fashion accessories before endangered species laws. It is truly a natural work of art. But our admiration of its beauty was short-lived, for as soon as we'd gotten to know our friend, we had to let him go. As he swam away, we quickly realized that although turtles are slow on land, they are fast at sea. And as swiftly as he left the scene, our final adventure at Eleuthera came to an end.

Our long farewell to each other and to this very special place had actually begun the night before with a t-shirt signing. Tonight we would end our story in proper island fashion with a bonfire, each of us sharing our highlights, struggling to decide which "rose" belonged at the top of our list. And to make our goodbye even more memorable, at the beginning of our journey, we'd created two "tribes," one for the males and one for the females, to set the stage for some fun and camaraderie in the camp. What the ladies had done with the idea was never made public, but the guys had kept it all out in the open, constantly reaffirming before all "what it means to be a Hammerhead." Tonight the male teachers led a mock fireside ceremony in which each young Hammerhead received a humorous verbal commendation extolling his virtues in service to the tribe, along with a matching tribal name reflecting the same. Everyone had a good laugh before we said goodnight one last time and made final preparations for our morning departure. As dawn broke and we were on our way back to the mainland, to our homes, to our schools, we reflected. What did we learn about life, about new ways of caring for it, that we could bring back with us? Every community has an ecosystem to care for. Would our students now not only be ready to learn about how to care for it, but actually be able to do it? That is the challenge to which these Argonauts will rise.

The Take-Away Personal Growth For me, watching seven students come out of their shells was without a doubt the most rewarding part of our journey. Ranging in age from around 14 to 15 years, few had been very far out of their comfort zones before now. Some were so shy as to barely utter a word at first. Others were facing new physical tests. Most were entering a completely new environment in terms of not only geography and living conditions, but also human interaction. As events unfolded and new challenges arose, it was an educator's dream to look on as communication barriers fell, new bonds of trust and friendship formed, and young men and women matured beyond their years. And the new professional relationships that were cemented between the adults were of immeasurable value and potential. Home, School and Beyond I embarked on this journey in hopes that I could bring back a greater understanding of how to bring students out of the classroom and into the outdoors, where science is not just theory, but a reality that they can experience. Not every student is inclined toward the technicalities of science; in fact, most will not enter careers in which they apply science at a high level. Almost all, though, enjoy science in some form with one or more of their five senses, whether or not they even realize it, through exercise, music, playing with their gadgets, etc. If all of my students can increase their awareness of the science around them, and can experience it in a real and personal way, then in their futures at least they might all support it, perhaps advocate for it, even help fund it. It is my desire to reach such scientific "laymen" who might be of more benefit to the scientific community than we may give them credit for. Through outdoor education, I believe I have found one way to do it. From Eleuthera I brought home an experience that I hope to replicate on some scale, by engaging our students in the same kind of direct contact with our local ecology that we had with that of the island. I witnessed and participated directly in the ongoing preservation, conservation and management of a living system. These efforts are an attempt to balance the interests of all participants, be they fishermen or fish, banyan tree or bat moth. Here in Kingwood, right on the edge of Lake Houston, is a virtual wildlife preserve, though not known as such, called East End Park. With miles of nature trails through meadows, wetlands and forests, and representatives of numerous animal species, it is one of the few remaining pieces of well-preserved

wilderness we can still experience in town. To see it disrupted or perhaps even destroyed as our city continues to grow would be a shame. By bringing our students into contact with this ecosystem, and giving them a chance to get involved in its preservation, I hope for them them be of benefit to Kingwood and themselves as they apply science to their immediate surroundings and see its effect on their own quality of life. I can think of no better way to make science real to my students and to Kingwood, or for them to make a contribution to the field in which I've immersed them.

THANK YOU CHEVRON, THANK YOU JASON LEARNING, THANK YOU CEI, AND THANK YOU HUMBLE ISD!!! (for more information go to ceibahamas.org and jason.org)