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.