On May 7th and 8th, a crew of The New Century School 5th and 6th graders packed their bags and made the annual pilgrimage to Echo Hill Outdoor School (EHOS), a 70-acre campus tucked into the upper Eastern Shore of the Chesapeake Bay, near the heart of a 350-acre working farm in Worton, Maryland. Open fields, hardwood forests, freshwater marshes, and a mile of sandy Chesapeake beachfront: it is, by any reasonable measure, a spectacular place for kids to spend a night away from their screens.

The students, however, were not entirely convinced of this. When asked point-blank whether they enjoyed the trip, the initial consensus was best described as hesitant. “No,” said one student, before revising to “a little bit.” Another clarified: “I wanted to go back to my mom.” A third summed it up philosophically: “We did absolutely nothing.” High praise.

Their chaperone and teacher, Ms. Sharma, saw it very differently. “I was very appreciative of all the students,” she said afterward. “They were respectful and participated in all planned activities and seemed to enjoy themselves. I had a great time as well.” Two accounts of the same trip—both, it turns out, entirely accurate. (We can also chalk some of the dissonance up to this blogger’s bad choice of interview timing: interrupt lunch time and find out.)

Challenge By Choice…?

Echo Hill’s adventure programming is built around a philosophy it calls “Challenge by Choice,” the idea that students push themselves at their own pace, supported by peers, in a safe outdoor environment. For this group, the highlight of the structured programming was Echo Hill’s famous Giant Swing: a high-element adventure course feature where students are hoisted by a team-belay system until they release, experience a brief free-fall, and pendulum out over the field. “That was the most fun stuff,” A. confirmed. “The Giant Swing was a challenge that all accepted and performed to their best potential—including yours truly!,” agreed Ms. Sharma

They also took to the water. Echo Hill’s campus borders the Chesapeake Bay, and the group got out on the bay in boats, paddling along a shoreline that, depending on the weather and the light, can look practically unchanged from colonial times.

Beyond the swing and the boats, free time was the group’s unanimous favorite part. Echo Hill builds supervised unstructured time into its residential program precisely because students learn something different when no one is telling them what to do: how to entertain themselves, how to wander, how to talk to someone they don’t usually talk to. This group took full advantage. They explored the beach, played basketball, and goofed around.

Then there was the wildlife. Echo Hill’s 70 acres plus the adjacent 172-acre Big Marsh, a freshwater shrub swamp protected by the Nature Conservancy means the campus is genuinely abundant with creatures that most Baltimore kids don’t encounter on a regular Tuesday. The group came across a rat snake: sleek, black, and entirely harmless, although the initial identification as a “rattlesnake” required some negotiation. (“It’s a rat snake.” “Same thing.” “No.”) J. contributed the most unexpected natural history discovery: if you press on a carpenter bee’s abdomen, its legs will reflexively move, making the bee appear briefly to still be alive. “We figured that out ourselves,” she said. (Ahem. We left it at that.)

M. offered, “Since there was no light near the sky, you could see the planets.” Away from the city’s ambient glow, the night sky at Echo Hill is the real thing. Two other students found white quartz rocks on the beach, struck them together, and made a spark. As details like these emerged, it became abundantly clear that they not only actually enjoyed themselves (despite their flimsy protests to the contrary), but they appreciated the experience and even learned from it.

Take the food for instance. They almost couldn’t stop talking about how good it was. Echo Hill serves meals family-style in its dining hall at long communal tables where students eat alongside their counselors. Dinner on arrival was a cookout: hot dogs, burgers. The next day brought what the group called “Thanksgiving food,” pasta, stuffing, and turkey. But the most talked-about element of mealtime wasn’t what went in; it was what didn’t. Uneaten food goes in a “slop bucket.” Tables are measured on how little they waste, providing a very visual lesson in mindfulness and sustainability.

Every morning at Echo Hill begins with a circle (EHOS has Quaker roots). All the visiting schools gather for an all-camp assembly that includes a moment of silence, some songs. On this particular morning, there was a song about a turkey, followed, in what the group agreed was either remarkable coincidence or intentional programming, by actual turkey for the meal that followed to their consternation. The circle was described as “kind of good, kind of weird.”

Their ride home took an unexpected turn when the Uber lined up in advance canceled. They were able to leave with the Bryn Mawr kids on their bus, which some appreciated immensely due to the movie playing—possibly Annie, possibly The Pacifier, possibly both, accounts differed—while at least one student nearly succumbed to seasickness (which is impressive on a bus). The Bryn Mawr students were described, with some caveats, as “really nice.”

Five students. One overnight. A rat snake, a slop bucket, a giant swing, and a song about a turkey. They’ll cherish this motley assortment of memories forever! “It’s kind of mid, but it’s okay.” We see you, kids.

Read about another TNCS trip to Echo Hill here.

The day before Mother’s Day, a group of birders gathered at Thames St. Park—just around the corner from The New Century School—looking for the colony of black-crowned night herons (Nycticorax nycticorax) known to roost there annually. They were not disappointed: dozens of feathered mothers and fathers (both parents incubate in this species) flew about or made adjustments to their nests.

You may be wondering, why is Immersed covering this? Because they’re awesome, that’s why! Also, they need the TNCS community’s help this year.

Meet the Black-Crowned Night Heron

This bird is one of the most widespread heron species in the world and one of the most striking. Stocky and compact compared to the great blue heron, adults sport a glossy black cap and back, soft gray wings, and vivid red eyes. Juveniles are streaky brown and look like an entirely different bird. Both are beautiful.

Photo courtesy of Elizabeth Sotoudeh

They’re also, as their name suggests, largely nocturnal, most active at dusk and into the night, when they wade the shallows hunting fish, frogs, and invertebrates. During the day, they roost in trees. As of May 9th, the colony at Thames St. Park included:

• 30 active nests across 9 trees (a couple have 6 or more nests in a single tree!)
• 24 nests currently holding eggs

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The birding event was hosted by Jim Rapp of Delmarva Birding Weekends and Baltimore Birding Weekends. Bud Poole, a wildlife rescuer who works with Phoenix Wildlife Center, has been watching this colony closely and spoke about the herons’ plight.

Don’t Blame Thames!

Here’s where the story gets complicated . . . and where the TNCS community comes in. The trees lining Thames St. Park are Japanese Zelkovas, a non-native species. Nobody is entirely sure why the herons chose them. The park location has advantages: the bulkhead along the water is good overwintering habitat, and the pier offers easy fishing. But Japanese Zelkovas are structurally problematic for a heron colony. They have few low branches and little understory vegetation. In Thames St. Park, the ground beneath them is (or was!) hard, consisting of rock and pavement, largely devoid of anything soft to land on until recently.

In past years, when a heron chick fell (and they will fall), there was nothing to break the impact, and no way for the nestling to climb back up. The parents would lose track of it. Without intervention, a fallen chick would not be fed, would not be retrieved, and would not survive.

Now, thanks to Wild Ones, a native plant organization, native plantings have recently been installed beneath the trees, providing a cushion designed to break falls and give downed birds somewhere to shelter while they wait for rescue. Those plants will hopefully be established before nestling activity peaks.

This initiative will be a tremendous help, but it may not completely solve the problem. Here’s where we can help.

Be a Heron Hero!

Service is a TNCS core value. We understand that we have a responsibility to the world beyond our own walls and that meaningful action starts close to home. The herons are part of our neighborhood ecosystem, and they are raising their young in a place that makes survival difficult, not because of anything they did wrong, but because the urban landscape offers imperfect options. A little human attention, at the right moment, can make all the difference.

You may have seen the well-meaning guidance that circulates on social media every spring: If you find a baby bird, leave it alone. Mom is nearby. For many species, in many situations, that’s sound advice. Fledglings (birds in the process of learning independence), for example, are often on the ground intentionally, still under parental supervision.

This guidance does not apply to the black-crowned night herons at Thames St. Park, however. If you find a downed heron chick, here’s what to do:

1. Gently place the chick in a box or bag. You don’t need gloves, but do handle the chick calmly and minimally.
2. Move it somewhere dark and quiet. Darkness dramatically reduces a bird’s stress; this step is important.
3. Call Phoenix Wildlife Center immediately. They will guide you from there.
   • 📞 410-628-WREN (410-628-9736)
   • ✉️ contact@phoenixwildlife.org
   • 🌐 phoenixwildlife.org
4. Consider becoming a transporter. Phoenix Wildlife Center relies on community volunteers to transport birds to their facility. You don’t need a special permit; you’re covered under theirs. It takes an hour and it saves a life.
5. Follow them on social media. @TS_Nightherons on Instagram and Thames Street Night Herons on Facebook faithfully document the colony. (Looks like some eggs have hatched since the 9th!)

Eggs take 23 to 26 days to hatch after laying, and because hatching within a nest is staggered (not all eggs hatch at once), the window of vulnerability will be extended rather than concentrated. That means sustained community awareness matters more than a single week of vigilance.

This Mother’s Day weekend, as we celebrated the mothers in our lives, 30 or so heron mothers were sitting on eggs, waiting, tending. Their chicks will hatch soon. Some will fall. We can be there when they do.

Special thanks to the 10th annual Baltimore Birding Weekend for hosting the event that opened our eyes to this remarkable colony right in our own backyard.

Imagine you’re standing on a giant rock overlooking a body of water unknown to you and being dared to jump by your Middle School classmates. Not your typical school day! But that’s exactly where A found herself one afternoon during the TNCS Middle School capstone trip to Puerto Rico. La Piedra Escrita (“written rock”) sits in the Rio Saliente in Jayuya and is covered in Taíno petroglyphs from the pre-Columbian era. La Escrita partially blocks the path of the river, forming a tidal pool safe for swimming.

Did she jump? She sure did—and just like her four companions, in many more ways than just that one. The Middle School capstone trip isn’t just the close to a student’s career at The New Century School or a celebratory send-off. While it most certainly checks those boxes very nicely, it’s also an inflection point. It’s the edge of the rock before the massive leap forward into the future with all its big life changes including high school, the next phase of growing up, and discovering who they are.

Immersed sat down with the five TNCS middle schoolers on their return to ask them three questions: What did you like most about the trip? What did you learn? What surprised you? The ensuing conversation was by turns funny, moving, and—not going to lie—sometimes confusing! Ultimately, what emerged was a tale of personal and collective growth.

What Did You Like Most?

The jungle tour was a highlight for both E and P—two swimming spots, water slides carved into the rock, natural pools fed by the forest. For S, Old San Juan drew genuine awe, particularly its architecture and layered history. A, of course, enjoyed conquering the rock, and Z got a kick out of watching that drama unfold. Collectively, the five gave Profé J. props for her cooking, especially her pasta dishes.

Speaking of food, S and E also mentioned how much they actually enjoyed the mofongo they had anticipated trying. This Puerto Rican staple made of mashed plantains and chicharrón is typically paired with meat or seafood; S had his with mahi mahi, and E chose octopus. Delicioso!

And how about their chaperones, Profé J. and Mr. Callahan? It’s hard to pick just one thing!” exclaimed Mr. Callahan. “From a scheduled activity perspective, I really enjoyed the tour of Hacienda Buena Vista and working with Para la Naturaleza to plant patchouli. I had never been to the island before, so I really loved seeing all of the wildlife and absorbing the culture of the place.”

For Profé J., a longtime lover of the island, many things tied for top billing including just being back. “The bomba percussion class was really cool,” she said. “Beto, the teacher, was really dynamic and exciting, and I had never done that. I also really enjoyed the planting; it was nice to be a part of that experience. We also got to hike up to the top of the mountain and see a beautiful view with horses below.” The beach was also a high point.

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What Did You Learn?

“We got to learn how to play rhythms,” said S. “And also learn about the origins of how bomba was created.” It’s no surprise that this experience comes up again and again from different perspectives because in some ways, it represented the walls between the curriculum and the world dissolving. The music they play in Profé J.’s music class; the Spanish they have practiced since their time at TNCS began; and the Hispanic history, culture, and geography they learn in the classroom all suddenly had real-world context, and it made an impression.

E spoke about the kayaking excursion on bioluminescent Laguna Grande. On finding out that the glow comes from microscopic organisms called dinoflagellates living in the water, he did some independent research to find out more.

Z talked about speaking Spanish. Not studying it. Speaking it—to real people, in real situations, in a place where it mattered. “It felt amazing,” she said. Was she nervous at first? “Yeah. But the more I did it, the easier it got.” She added, laughing, “But don’t test me.”

P talked about iguanas—well, the service learning to be more precise. On the driest stretch of the island called Cabo Rojo, the group spent one blazing morning planting vegetation as part of an effort to stabilize the soil and reduce iguana tunneling through roads. This is a problem for fire trucks trying to navigate the area (the climate makes it especially fire prone). “We did real community service,” said P, a little awestruck, as she realized their efforts were going to have real and important impacts.

The history of Old San Juan was A’s learning experience, and, indeed, many claim that it’s like traveling back in time with its 16th-century Spanish vibes (blue cobblestone streets!). It also just happens to be the oldest city in America.

Their collective aha moment was that P “is a really good singer,” a fact that she had kept somewhat hidden, not being a lover of the spotlight. Apparently, some duets with Mr. Callahan even happened (alas, no recordings were made).

Mr. Callahan says he “learned a lot about the reverence that Puerto Rican people have for the island and the culture that came before them. Even chatting with our Uber drivers, they would be so excited to share stories and ask what we already knew about PR.”

Profé J. took a more reflective approach to this question, reaching for insight about the trip as a whole: “I was refamiliarized with the amount of emotional range possible for a middle school group within the context of a day.
And that contradictions happen often. And that the learning process is an arduous one.” At this point in the conversation, as if on cue, A piped up to announce, “I got so many bug bites on my legs” to which non sequitur Profé J. remarked, “I’m trying to think, and they’re making me laugh.” She regained composure to conclude:
”I think gratitude is very important. I didn’t necessarily learn that, but I was reminded of it. It’s something I always practice when I go to the island, just remembering how grateful I am to be able to be there as a visitor.”

What Surprised You?

E came right out with, “The guy with the snake that showed up,” prompting laughter and related chatter. Evidently, a man pretended to be about to throw his pet python at the kids at Las Escrita. S was surprised by the number of Puerto Ricans who speak English. With TNCS students learning Spanish, communication was usually a breeze. They did not forfeit their opportunity to use their Spanish-speaking skills—they just didn’t realize how much English is also spoken on the island.

A says the “bugs” were a bit of a surprise, by which she was referring to the mosquitos. P mentioned the cats—“there were a lot of cats.” A chimed in to say they named one of them Bob, and she plans to “go back for him.” For Z, the surprise was that Spirit Airlines shut down days after they returned home on a Spirit flight!

Mr, Callahan says, “I was surprised with how we were treated when we left San Juan and were more immersed in local Puerto Rican’s day-to-day activities. Everywhere we went, our middle schoolers found people to chat and joke with, even if there was a language barrier. People wanted to get to know them and share their spaces with us, which I found beautiful.”

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Profé J., for her part, grew a bit nostalgic, recalling driving the group to some of her favorite places. She says she and Mr. Callahan complemented each other’s strengths well and had already grown very comfortable working together over the school year. “It was a great trip, and we had so much fun. We knocked it out of the park in terms of planning activities—we did so much!”

Now That They’re Back Home…

Even when prompted, the group was reticent about any larger lessons they learned (to be fair, they were eating lunch and maybe not in the most reflective mood), but it was crystal clear that the trip made a huge impact on them. They were already beginning to connect what they did to what it meant, for example. Another thing that stood out was their strengthened bond—they finished each others’ sentences or added color and additional detail to an experience one was describing. They invented a game called “Granny” that they played each night in their respective AirBnBs. More will surface as the days go on, giving them additional time to reminisce. This experience will not only stay with them as a cherished memory, it has changed them … for good.

This post is the second in a two-part series on the TNCS middle school’s fifth capstone trip, taken April 23–30, 2026. Read Part 1, ¡Puerto Rico, Aquí Vamos! TNCS Middle Schoolers Head to La Isla del Encanto!, for their anticipation and preparation ahead of their departure.